AESVM Chapter 76
Yours
The already cool arena became even chillier.
Daphne’s expression froze completely. The once-silent spectators began murmuring, disbelief lacing their voices.
“He’s a traitor.”
“He’s not dead yet?”
Celestian looked furious, his brows deeply furrowed as he scanned the arena, as if searching for someone.
Realizing that she was the one he was looking for, Daphne panicked and tapped the back of her father’s hand.
“Father, why is he here?”
Her voice rose slightly in agitation.
He was dressed in a tight-fitting black outfit for ease of movement. Daphne had never seen Celestian in such dark clothing before—it made her frown.
She needed a better look.
“He’s probably standing in for Kisha,” Marius replied, grinning ear to ear.
“But why would he…?”
Celestian had looked exhausted just a few days ago, as if he hadn’t slept in ages, tormented by something. He hadn’t just seemed tired—he had been in terrible shape.
Throwing someone like that into the first match of a winner-stays-on tournament was practically cruelty.
‘Well, even if he loses, he won’t die. But he’s bound to get hurt…’
Meanwhile, the first contestant had already gone off in the opposite direction, chosen by another lady.
Celestian, after scanning the arena for a long moment, finally spotted Daphne. Then, slowly, he approached.
‘Why does he look so pissed?’
His expression was so furious that Daphne felt a chill crawl up her spine.
She instinctively tried to shift behind her father for cover, but the crowd was too packed on both sides.
Worse, she was trapped securely within her father’s arm—there was no escape!
‘…It’s not like I called him here. No reason to hide.’
The moment Celestian stopped in front of her, his towering frame cast a shadow over her.
Marius spread his palm in greeting.
“Grand Duke Theriosa, what a pleasant surprise to see you here.”
Celestian flicked his emerald-green eyes toward Marius, glaring as if he were something repulsive. Then, without a word, he turned his gaze to Daphne.
“Leaving without a word seems to be a habit of yours.”
His voice carried a weight that made Daphne’s ears tingle. She almost muttered an apology on reflex but managed to press her lips shut.
Seeing this, Celestian simply shook his head, as if to say never mind, and extended his hand toward her.
Daphne stared at it blankly. His hands were large, porcelain-pale, and bore a deep, straight scar.
“The first match is about to begin! Once you choose a contestant, you won’t be able to change your selection later. If you wish to choose, please hand over a personal belonging now!”
Judging by the commotion on the other side, another lady had already made her choice.
“If Daphne doesn’t want to pick you, why not try one of the many other ladies?”
Marius added mockingly, smirking.
Daphne elbowed her father lightly in the chest, though it made no difference—Celestian simply ignored him.
“Give it to me.”
There wasn’t a trace of a smile on his beautiful face.
Feeling a strange flutter in her chest, Daphne pursed her lips and handed over the earrings she had taken off earlier.
Celestian’s eyes narrowed slightly.
Apparently, he was willing to follow tradition. Without hesitation, he placed the scabbard of his sword onto the railing.
‘This… This is Kisha’s…’
It was one of the renowned swords Daphne had gifted Kisha Serenade, back when her friend had been obsessed with blades.
A legendary blacksmith, known across three continents, had crafted only five of these swords. Purchasing one required verified noble status.
The blade was forged from the strongest steel in the Empire, while the hilt was elegantly finished with obsidian and ivory.
Kisha had begged for this sword for ten days and nights, rolling on the floor in desperation until Daphne finally gave in.
And yet, after all that, Kisha had later complained that the sword was too long for her height and had only ever maintained it meticulously.
‘And now she lent it to him? What on earth…?’
Celestian placed Daphne’s earring onto the sword’s hilt—then struck it hard with his fist.
BANG!
The deafening impact made Daphne squeeze her eyes shut.
‘Is he… throwing a tantrum?’
The amber gemstone embedded itself perfectly, as if it had always been part of the sword. The tassel from the earring, however, snapped and fluttered to the ground.
Celestian, his displeasure evident, narrowed his eyes and looked down at her once more.
Daphne decided to be direct.
“Why?”
“……”
“Why are you sulking? Say something.”
But the prince chose silence.
Frustration tightened in her throat.
Celestian’s face returned to its usual impassive state as he lowered his gaze to the second earring still in his palm.
“This belongs to you, doesn’t it?”
“Would I be carrying someone else’s jewelry?”
“Then why did you take it off in advance?”
“…Huh?”
Daphne blinked, utterly confused by his question.
Without breaking eye contact, Celestian lifted the earring to his ear—then pressed it against his earlobe.
With barely any effort, his skin yielded.
His ear was pierced in an instant.
Daphne’s mouth fell open.
Her brain stalled so completely that she forgot to even ask what the hell he was doing.
Behind her, Marius let out a sharp whistle.
The spectators, equally stunned, gasped and murmured in excitement.
Unfazed, Celestian turned away.
Daphne’s earring now dangled from his ear, shimmering as he walked.
Right now…
When she had been younger, basking in the glory of being a princess, Daphne had been utterly obsessed with knights and the chivalric code.
The tradition of embedding a lady’s accessory into a knight’s sword signified loyalty—the blade would belong to her until it broke completely.
Which meant…
Celestian Theriosa, in his current state, was entirely, unmistakably—
Hers.
Daphne suddenly jumped in place, accidentally headbutting Marius in the chin.
He let out a groan of pain.
“What a liar, isn’t he?”
She muttered the words, but her face was rapidly turning crimson.
****
Daphne watched the match with her face partially covered, peeking through the gap between her index and middle fingers.
The once-cool arena had become stiflingly hot with the rising tension.
Her eyes darted, following Celestian’s swift movements.
He had already won three matches. And effortlessly at that!
With graceful footwork, he dodged incoming strikes, clashed blades a few times, and then—without even using his sword—struck the back of his opponent’s neck, knocking them unconscious.
But…
Daphne narrowed her eyes.
It’s too smooth. Too easy. It’s boring.
A bloodless sword fight. It was like reading a romance novel with no romance.
The very people who had booed him earlier, calling him a “Phantom Grand Duke” and a “traitor,” were now stacking their bets under his name, predicting his victory.
Daphne seemed to be the only one unimpressed.
Everyone else was captivated, eyes glued to him, their excitement amplified by strong liquor. Some were already drunk, cheering wildly.
Of course, Celestian winning was good—it meant she wouldn’t have to waste her money on that ridiculous “date day” prize.
But still…
It was only natural. His skill with a sword was well-known, not just in the kingdom but internationally.
When he had been reinstated as a prince, gossipmongers had briefly dubbed him Secradion’s Blade.
Luckily, that title had faded long ago, and since Romio’s return, Celestian had stayed out of the public eye for years. Most people here probably didn’t even remember his past.
Yet, even on flat, open terrain with no footholds, he moved as if he were flying.
With a sharp whistle signaling the end of the fourth match, his opponent—a large man—was sent tumbling out of the ring.
Too easy. No fun at all.
Daphne had already accepted that, barring some miracle, Celestian would win the tournament.
After all, back then, he had single-handedly defeated nearly ten swordsmen in an instant.
She blew into the inside of her slightly sweaty glove when Adam, the event host, approached Celestian and handed him a drink.
“The winner must take a victory shot!”
From the third consecutive win onward, each champion was given a shot of strong liquor—an underhanded tactic to break their winning streak.
Of course, the final victor would also receive a handicap in the last match.
Celestian, who had already been subjected to this once, scowled. Then he turned—directly looking at her.
Daphne, meeting his gaze, casually tossed back a shot of the same green liquor in one gulp.
The heat from the alcohol burned its way down, spreading all the way to her face.
My mouth is on fire.
Only then did Celestian, clearly reluctant, drink his shot as well. He closed his eyes tightly for a moment before handing the glass back.
Just as the fifth contestant stepped onto the stage.
A towering, broad-shouldered man.
“Oh?”
Daphne recognized him.
He was the handsome, middle-aged knight who had won five consecutive matches since the start of the tournament.
The moment he stepped forward, he dramatically tore off his shirt, revealing his bulging muscles.
The crowd roared with excitement.
“Wow…”
Even Daphne let out a breath of admiration.
Celestian, who was relatively close by, turned his head upon hearing her reaction. One of his eyebrows arched in silent question.
“What? Just watch your own fight,” she said offhandedly.
He gave no reply, simply turning back around with an almost sulky tilt of his head.
Her earring, still dangling from his ear, shimmered a beat behind his movement.
“…Annoying.”
Daphne narrowed her eyes.
Winning three times in a row had clearly inflated his ego, and for some reason, that irritated her.
The way he kept glancing back at her after each victory, as if waiting for her approval—Did I do well?—was infuriating.
And that stupid earring, swinging around as if it reflected her own emotions, was even more annoying.
“Ugh, just trip and fall already.”
Hearing her muttered complaint, Marius glanced at her, puzzled. Then, as if something clicked in his mind, he suddenly burst into laughter.
