IARMDH Chapter 31

 

 

 

‘Winning a fight isn’t the problem.’

 

Erne thought the same, but he couldn’t bring himself to immediately agree.

 

Though he was an illegitimate child, from the age of eight, he had lived as a noble of a Count’s family and later as a knight. This wasn’t a fencing duel—it was just a street fight.

 

But he could definitely make money from it.

 

Erne, unlike Judith, who had a flexible conscience, felt a slight pang of guilt about their financial situation.

 

Judith was the one earning all the living expenses, begging for food, and even providing feed for their horse.

 

‘I’m nothing but a freeloader at this point.’

 

He had tried to claim his knight pension, but in order to do that, he first had to file a proof-of-life report. However, the process to prove he was actually Erne was so complicated that it would take at least six months, so he gave up.

 

Besides, he wasn’t too keen on announcing his survival and dealing with any resulting trouble.

 

‘If I plan to stay in the mansion and continue my investigation, I should at least contribute to our meals.’

 

Since he was confident in his fighting skills, maybe he should just go for it and deal with it once.

 

“Please, honey.”

 

Judith, thinking his silence meant rejection, looked up at him with pleading eyes and clung to his sleeve like a rain-soaked puppy.

 

“What kind of nonsense are you saying out here? People can hear you.”

 

Startled, Erne quickly pulled away from Judith, as if she had said something scandalous.

 

Of course, the word ‘honey’ itself wasn’t particularly inappropriate or suggestive, so no one around them paid much attention.

 

“Honey.”

 

“You only call me that when you want something.”

 

“Then should I call you that all the time?”

 

“Are you challenging me to a duel?”

 

“Please, just do it once. We just need to make enough to cover next month’s interest, and then you can stop, right? We don’t even have enough money to survive right now!”

 

Judith, sensing Erne wavering, clung to his arm and begged. Seeing how thin her wrists had become from days of worrying over their debts pricked at his conscience.

 

Honestly, she looked so pitiful that he couldn’t refuse in the end.

 

“…Only until we earn the interest. That’s it. No second time. Promise me.”

 

***

 

“Ugh!”

 

“Hup!”

 

A few days later, Judith was shocked twice—first by the sheer scale of the underground fighting arena and second by the sight of gladiators boldly showing off their muscular physiques.

 

Each of them had different types of well-built bodies, displaying strength in their own way.

 

She had always thought excessive muscles looked unattractive, but seeing them in person… well, it wasn’t bad. Not bad at all.

 

“Did you come here to check out men?”

 

“No, I came to assess the condition of your opponents, Sir Erne… I mean, just Erne.”

 

Since Erne had to hide his identity as a knight in the underground fight club, Judith decided to call him by his name instead of his title.

 

Something about the atmosphere made her feel like if they found out Erne was a knight, he’d be kicked out immediately.

 

“Wipe your drool before you say that.”

 

Judith’s eyes sparkled as brightly as when she saw gold coins. Erne scanned the surroundings.

 

Well, it seemed like these men had put in some effort to build their bodies, but there wasn’t anyone particularly impressive.

 

“Hah, should I show these rookies what real combat-built muscles look like?”

 

As Erne reached for his shirt buttons, Judith quickly stopped him.

 

“No, you can’t.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Tonight, you need to look like a flashy, overconfident fighter with no real skill.”

 

Wait… why did he have to do that? He had never been all show and no substance in his life.

 

“If you look weak, fewer people will bet on you.”

 

That way, when Erne wins, Judith—who bet on him—can take home a bigger prize.

 

“So don’t win too easily. Make it look as difficult as possible, got it?”

 

“You’re not even considering the possibility that I might lose.”

 

“Of course not. Obviously.”

 

“At least you have a good eye, Miss Harrington.”

 

For some reason, Erne looked quite pleased as he said that.

 

“Ugh, so annoying.”

 

She acknowledged his skills, but talent aside, he was still insufferable.

 

Still, Judith smiled brightly and squeezed his arm.

 

“Don’t get hurt, okay?”

 

After all, he needed to be fit for the next match… and the one after that.

 

As she cheered for him one last time, Judith walked over to place her bet.

 

Meanwhile, Erne, now officially registered as a contestant, headed to the waiting area where all the gladiators gathered.

 

Most of the fighters were warming up, engaging in silent battles of intimidation. Regardless of their physique, all of them had one thing in common—unpleasant expressions.

 

“Looks like tonight’s star has arrived.”

 

As Erne sat down on a wooden bench, a guy lifting weights smirked and winked at him.

 

Erne felt a wave of nausea at the blatant unpleasantness of it.

 

“Hey, I don’t think our ‘star’ here even knows what that nickname means.”

 

A tattooed man with his entire back covered in crude designs chimed in.

 

Erne was baffled. Did they really think he didn’t know what ‘star’ meant?

 

Even with half of his face covered, Erne was still the most handsome one here. Of course, he’d be the ‘popular guy.’

 

“Newbie, being the ‘popular guy’ here means you’re the easiest target.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“We pick the first match’s opponent among ourselves.”

 

In other words, Erne looked so weak that everyone wanted to fight him.

 

“So I get to choose my opponent?”

 

“Haha, exactly. Since everyone will want to fight you, in the end, you’ll be the one picking.”

 

“Then who here has the best endurance?”

 

Erne had taken the bait.

 

***

 

“Alright, folks! The match is about to begin. Place your bets quickly!”

 

A host clapped loudly, encouraging the audience to make their wagers before the fight started.

 

“There’s nothing to think about. I’m betting on Iron Fist Ken.”

 

The man in front of Judith confidently placed his silver coins on Ken.

 

Iron Fist? Seriously? Of all the possible nicknames, he picked Iron Fist?

 

Judith scoffed, rolling her eyes as she turned toward the arena.

 

Inside, Erne and Iron Fist Ken were warming up.

 

Erne casually rotated his wrists, while Ken, in contrast, was shouting and pounding his chest like a gorilla, trying to hype up the crowd.

 

“Iron Fist Ken, you’re so handsome!”

 

“Hahaha! Who said that?! Come out here, and I’ll hug you hard enough to break your ribs!”

 

Ken laughed heartily, raising both hands in the air, and the crowd roared in response.

 

His hands shimmered in the air.

 

Not metaphorically—they actually glowed.

 

It was because he was wearing steel gauntlets that covered his wrists.

 

“What the hell…?”

 

Wasn’t that cheating? How was it fair to show up with actual iron fists?!

 

Meanwhile, Erne had come unarmed.

 

Why did that idiot leave his sword behind? Even if real swords aren’t allowed, wooden ones are. The rules clearly say so!

 

“Miss, who are you betting on?”

 

“Me? Hmm…”

 

“Once the match starts, you won’t be able to place a bet. So, is it Iron Fist Ken? Or that scrawny guy?”

 

Judith hesitated.

 

If Erne had at least brought a sword, she wouldn’t even have to think about it.

 

But… he must be confident if he left it behind, right?

 

Alright, time to stick to the plan.

 

“I’ll bet on the scrawny guy.”

 

Judith placed ten silver coins on Erne.

 

After all, in the original story, he was called an unparalleled knight based on skill alone.

 

Even without a sword, that talent wouldn’t just disappear.

 

Taking a deep breath to calm her pounding heart, Judith moved to the spectator stands.

 

The referee entered the arena, signaling the start of the match.

 

“Come at me first, newbie.”

 

Ken crooked his finger at Erne, motioning him forward. Erne let out a small laugh.

 

This guy had taunted him in the waiting room for a fair fistfight, yet now he was stepping into the arena with steel gauntlets?

 

Well, this was an illegal fight club, after all.

 

“How generous of you.”

 

“Hah! If I rushed in first against a weakling like you, where would my reputation as Iron Fist Ken go?”

 

Some of the spectators laughed along with Ken’s taunt.

 

“Is that so? Then I suppose I’ll go first.”

 

Just don’t regret it later.

 

Erne casually clenched and unclenched his fists before suddenly closing the distance between them in a flash.

 

Ken flinched at his speed, but after taking a hit to his side, his face lit up with amusement.

 

“That tickled, kid! Hahaha!”

 

He burst into laughter, mocking whether it was an iron fist or just a tin can.

 

“Ready to get your face smashed in, newbie?”

 

Ken swung a punch at Erne, but he dodged with a slight turn of his shoulder.

 

“Slippery little bastard, aren’t you?”

 

Erne had been called many things in his life, but this was a first.

 

Still, he was struggling with one thing—figuring out just how hard he should hit.

 

The rules were clear: you won if your opponent stayed down for ten seconds, but without killing them.

 

The problem? How was he supposed to knock this guy out without breaking his neck?

 

On top of that, Erne himself couldn’t afford to get injured.

 

The issue was… in real battles, he was always prepared to lose at least an arm if it meant winning.

 

Holding back against a weakling like this?

 

He had never fought that way before.

 

“Stop dodging, damn it! Did you come here to play tag?!”

 

Frustrated, Ken snapped at Erne, who had been effortlessly weaving around his attacks.

 

“You said you could take a hit, right?”

 

“Now he’s stalling with useless questions.”

 

Ken grumbled before scoffing.

 

“Yeah, I can take a hit. You can punch me all you want—I won’t even flinch!”

 

“Don’t regret saying that, Tin Can Fist.”

 

“It’s Iron Fist, damn it!”