Chapter 25
“Who is it?”
Hah. Unbelievable.
But she couldn’t say a word easily.
At some point, he had fully equipped his gauntlets and was now gripping his sword.
‘Is he really planning to smash the knights into mush again like last time?’
The image of Sir Netir heading off on a monster subjugation right after exchanging words with her flashed menacingly through her mind.
Her brain spun rapidly.
“In truth, I like him.”
Before she realized it, her finger was pointing at the weirdo sitting under the tree.
The Grand Duke stared at her for a moment, then burst into laughter.
But the laughter ended quickly, and a deadly aura shadowed his face.
“You should at least try to lie better.”
‘Okay, yes, he is a weirdo, but how can he be that sure?’
Then again… maybe he was right.
With the way that weirdo acted, no sane woman could possibly like him.
She felt herself shrink at the sight of the Grand Duke gripping his sword so menacingly.
‘No, this is it. Sink or swim.’
“I, actually…”
She lifted her eyes with the most pathetic look she could muster.
“I like Your Grace.”
Before she knew it, the Grand Duke had leaned in, staring her down.
She overflowed in his piercing blue eyes. They softened just for a moment— In that breathless instant under his unreadable gaze— He tapped her cheek.
“That’s a pretty half-hearted confession.”
“Am I not included in the ‘Pride of the North’? My name has never been left off that list.”
‘Wait… is this all because I didn’t give him a pastry?’
His eyes immediately snapped to the basket in her hand.
When she tried to hide it behind her, his gaze slowly crept back up to her face.
She couldn’t breathe under the weight of it.
Among the onlookers, it was the knight captain who finally stepped up with shaky courage, seemingly determined to earn his financier, and invoked the spirit of chivalry to rescue her from the Grand Duke.
After that, the Grand Duke tore into the knights like a beast hunting prey.
Another round of duels—just like before.
Swords flew, and the defeated began jogging laps around the training ground one by one.
‘Why am I even standing here watching this? Should I leave?’
But her feet refused to move.
She had openly admitted to avoiding him—if she really left now, it’d be no different from handing in her resignation.
Her thoughts turned to her brother.
And to the face of Viscount Langston that she had seen back in the Southern province.
‘I can’t give up now.’
All of this was for her goal. Still, she felt bad for the knights.
There was no way a few financiers could be traded for dozens of laps. It just didn’t add up.
And yet, they all smiled brightly.
As if trying to lighten her burden, they met her gaze and gave her cheerful smiles without fail.
‘And to think I’m the cause of all this…’ Her head began to throb.
As she rubbed her temple, the Grand Duke’s figure slowly came into focus.
Once again, one hand was clasped behind his back, like he was toying with his opponent.
She could vividly recall the way his eyes had fixated on the basket.
‘Seriously… all this over one financier.’
If the world heard that Grand Duke Kallain—lord of Detroit—launched a personal vendetta over a single financier, who would believe it?
She shook her head in disbelief, just as his gaze shifted again—this time, toward the silver-haired weirdo.
All the other knights had already been dealt with.
As if realizing it was his turn, the weirdo rose and stepped forward, long hair swaying.
Still holding the heart-shaped financier, untouched. He looked every bit the rebellious brat.
‘He doesn’t even care about it, and yet he’s carrying it around like it’s some precious treasure.’
It was obviously intentional.
Whether he was trying to provoke the Grand Duke—or provoke her—
When the weirdo stood across from the Grand Duke, it naturally placed him in a direct line of sight with her.
Their eyes met. A faint smirk flickered across his face and then vanished.
‘After I baked all those financiers and basically threw bribes around, now I’m being treated like this by the Grand Duke—and this guy looks thrilled about it.’
‘Seriously. They’re both ridiculous. The Grand Duke and the weirdo.’
With no one left to root for, she lost all interest in the duel.
And it dragged on longer than before.
‘I don’t know much about swordsmanship, but… I think the weirdo’s gotten better.’
Meanwhile, in her head, she kept running through simulations over and over again.
Clang.
Her thoughts finally snapped the moment the match was decided.
Sylvia’s eyes pierced through Kallain as she stared at the back of his head.
Kallain was aware of it—but left it alone.
Those eyes, burning with determination, clearly wanted to say something but kept hesitating.
Yet despite that, whether out of pride or stubbornness, she refused to speak.
He told himself he didn’t care to hear it anyway—but still, part of him was curious about what she might say.
‘What kind of nerve does she have, baking whatever she wants in my estate’s kitchen, trying to act generous like it’s her doing? And why the hell wasn’t there even one for me?’
It was ridiculous, but he couldn’t help but wonder.
And most of all, his eyes kept getting drawn to that damn ‘heart’ Jayden had talked about.
She’d said something absurd about liking Vikel, and yet now he was the one holding it.
‘Does she think every man around her belongs to her?’
She smiled at Netir, gave the heart to Vikel, and those pastries were made in his kitchen.
And now she says she likes him?
‘She should be thrown out immediately. How shameless can one woman be?’
And if he was wondering who she was even rooting for at this point, then… maybe he really was crazy.
‘Well, I was crazy to begin with. What’s one step further?’
Of course, he knew.
He knew she hadn’t given Vikel that heart-shaped financier out of actual feelings.
Which made the whole thing even more absurd.
Clang! The sharp ring of metal sounded again, and before he even knew how he’d moved, he reflexively blocked his opponent’s sword.
As always, it was no struggle.
His thoughts deepened, and at some point, that heart shape flickered before his eyes.
His footwork grew heavier, the grip on his sword tighter.
His opponent took a step back, and the moment he instinctively pushed into that space— The sword in the other hand spun around and pointed straight at his throat.
Vikel had won.
“You’ve improved quickly.”
“It’s thanks to Your Grace’s teaching.”
Every time he saw him, he felt it—Vikel learned fast.
He’d just copied the exact trick Kallain had once used himself.
He was the type to master ten things after learning just one.
‘That damn heart-shaped pastry must be giving him a ridiculous amount of motivation.’
He was so cautious with every step, like he was scared it might fall.
When the duel ended, Vikel’s gaze locked onto Kallain and didn’t waver. That unwavering stare said he had something to say.
As usual, the guy didn’t hesitate.
“Do you like her?”
“What?”
“The healer.”
One corner of Vikel’s mouth curled up in a smug grin. Like he knew something.
It was blatant mockery.
And he was directing it at his lord, of all people.
‘Winning one duel and now he’s got nothing to fear, huh?’
And that stiff, unyielding posture—he looked just like the girl.
‘So the two of them were sitting around handing things to each other all friendly-like, were they? How touching.’
“Why do you care?”
“Because I received this.”
The heart-shaped financier gleamed against Kallain’s sword.
Kallain’s hand slowly swept along the blade. His movement was oddly calm.
Vikel, watching the Grand Duke’s dry demeanor, prodded him.
“I think I might start liking her. That healer.”
Kallain smiled faintly as he slid his sword back into its sheath.
“If you like her, you’ll win. If you don’t like her… you’ll still win.”
“And what does that even mean—winning without liking her?”
“I hate it when someone’s lover roams freely around my estate.”
