“It’s called an iron fist, you know?”
That or this, it’s all just metal anyway. Erne scoffed. Ken, already boiling with rage, threw a punch. Despite his large build, his movement was surprisingly agile.
Erne tilted his head slightly to dodge, then slipped inside Ken’s guard. Lifting his knee, he struck Ken in the stomach. The moment Ken staggered—Erne swept his leg under Ken’s and brought him crashing down.
Ken collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud.
As he tried to get up, Erne kicked him in the side, planted a foot on his chest, and pressed him down firmly as Ken struggled beneath him.
“Ref, start the count.”
“10, 9, 8…”
Ken squirmed and struggled during the countdown, but he couldn’t get up.
“1.”
The referee finished counting. Ken, panting in frustration, furiously pounded the innocent ground beneath him.
Ken may not have known it, but for Erne, this victory was expected. So he thought he wouldn’t feel particularly happy about it—but surprisingly, he did feel a bit thrilled. Maybe even euphoric.
He had assumed such an easy win wouldn’t bring any joy, but the feeling caught him off guard.
“Kyaaa!”
As most of the audience, who had bet on the famed Iron Fist Ken, erupted into groans and curses, Judith’s cheer rang loud and clear through the stands.
Turning toward the noise, Erne spotted her jumping up and down among a crowd of worn-out-looking men, waving at him.
She actually knows how to smile like that.
Watching Judith practically overjoyed was… intriguing.
Then, the referee’s voice confirming the win rang in Erne’s ears.
“Victory goes to the skinny guy!”
“…Wait, what? Skinny guy?”
***
The rise of the ‘skinny guy’ continued.
“Hehe.”
Judith’s grin had stretched so high it looked like it could reach her temples.
Erne had won all three previous matches. The ten silver coins Judith had bet had turned into a hundred—then into three gold coins.
“Victory goes to the skinny guy!”
The referee once again raised the flag toward Erne’s side.
But Erne’s expression didn’t look pleased.
“Hey, ref. My number is 36.”
He showed the number he had received during fighter registration and complained.
“I know. Skinny guy.”
No you don’t. You clearly don’t know.
“What about me looks skinny to you?”
Even as a child growing up in the slums, where starvation was frequent, Erne had developed better than most other kids. Even in the knight order, he was on the bigger side. Skinny? Far from it.
“Don’t take it personally. Guys who look like you always get called that around here.”
“Guys who look like me?”
Erne muttered in a voice full of irritation.
“Then call me the handsome guy, at least.”
He swept back his sweat-drenched hair. Even under the dim lights, his sharp eyes, masculine brow, and the unmistakably tall, straight nose peeked out from behind his bangs.
“…Ugh, what an ass.”
The opponent sprawled on the floor, still trying to catch his breath, managed to mutter spitefully. That kind of comment would’ve been annoying coming from an ugly guy—but from a good-looking one, it was infuriating.
“Get off, you scrawny punk.”
Apparently, the referee agreed, firmly refusing to call Erne a ‘handsome guy.’
“Jealous, are we? How pathetic.”
Erne sneered at them and strode out of the arena. He could hear the referee and his opponent cursing behind him, but it didn’t bother him one bit.
What was he supposed to do about being born handsome?
Back in the waiting room, Erne immediately took off his sticky shirt soaked in sweat and the opponent’s blood.
He had brushed off the match as trivial, but still—it was a fight. Heat clung to his tense, swollen muscles.
As he reached for a towel to at least wipe down with the water provided in the waiting area, the entrance curtain suddenly flew open.
“Erne!”
Judith burst in and threw herself at him, hugging him tightly. She then started rubbing her face all over his bare, shirtless chest.
“Uh—hey, wait a second.”
Startled by the soft sensation on his skin, Erne grabbed her shoulders to push her away. But the more he tried, the more Judith clung to him like glue.
Why is she so strong? With strength like this, she could’ve entered the ring in my place.
“I knew you’d pull it off, Erne. Hehe.”
Every time her breath brushed against his skin, the muscles in his chest twitched involuntarily.
“Yeah, yeah, I get it, but stop smiling on my chest like that.”
And stop grinning so creepily, he wanted to say.
“Calm down already.”
Erne forcibly peeled Judith off of him.
“Gross. I’m drenched in sweat.”
“So what? You earned it fighting. I can wash you off, you know.”
“No.”
Like hell you will. As Judith reached for the towel, Erne quickly snatched it out of her hand.
“Must be nice.”
Other fighters in the waiting room chuckled as they looked at Erne and Judith.
“Girlfriend? Or wife?”
“Neither.”
“Aww, embarrassed, skinny guy?”
“I said, she’s not!”
And I’m not skinny either!
As Erne shouted in protest, he caught sight of Judith grinning goofily, intoxicated by the money she’d won.
Hmph. Honestly… she’s kind of embarrassing to be seen with in public.
***
Ten gold coins. She had earned in just a few bets what would normally take her the effort of making and selling over a hundred candles. If she had turned ten silver coins into ten gold coins, what could she achieve by betting those ten gold coins next?
“100 gold coins.”
Maybe even more, if she played it right. And if she boldly bet the full 100 gold?
Paying off 200 million gold in one go might not be just a pipe dream.
Back at the mansion, Judith leaned casually against Erne’s door and softly called out.
“Sir Erne.”
“Do you want something to eat?”
You have to eat well to fight well.
Judith beamed at him with a sincere smile. Erne was so incredibly useful—his beauty seemed to shine even brighter today.
“What’s gotten into you? Just act like you usually do.”
So he brought in a bit of money, and suddenly the treatment changes? Erne clicked his tongue in disapproval, but it didn’t put a single dent in Judith’s cheerful grin.
“Don’t want anything to eat? Then how about a massage?”
“Trying to get something out of me?”
“What do you mean? Sir, my only desire is for money.”
Erne was momentarily speechless at how genuine her response sounded—despite no truth potion involved, it was 100% pure sincerity.
“Please be just as amazing tomorrow as you were today.”
“Ha, you just want me to get called ‘that skinny guy’ again.”
“They’re just jealous of your looks, so don’t let it bother you. Handsome people have to endure these things, you know.”
You’ve really mastered the art of flattery, haven’t you?
Erne found Judith’s grinning face oddly unfamiliar. Normally, if he even slightly acted cocky, Judith would shoot him a look that screamed how obnoxious.
Not that this overly sweet Judith was unpleasant, but still—was it really okay for someone to change so drastically over a few coins?
Erne found himself grappling with a philosophical dilemma once again, just like the time he questioned the meaning of life.
“Just go already.”
He waved Judith away as she kneaded his shoulders under the pretense of a massage.
“Going to bed?”
“No, I need to think about what money really means to a person.”
Erne lay down on the bed with a dramatic gesture, but Judith didn’t leave so easily.
“Is that really what you should be thinking about right now? You should be focused on how to fight more intensely to raise the betting pool.”
“I’m not entering tomorrow’s match.”
“Then I shall take my leave.”
Judith gave a polite bow, hands over her belly button, then shuffled backward out of the room.
That girl’s not right. I don’t know what exactly is wrong—but something definitely is.
Erne collapsed onto the bed with a tired sigh, shaking his head.
Ever since the assassination attempt, he always left the door slightly open. From beyond it, he could hear Judith bustling around.
Something around his chest felt oddly itchy, as if Judith’s hair had grazed that spot earlier, so he scratched absentmindedly.
Fighting was something he’d always done. Winning was second nature.
But had his victories ever made anyone else happy?
He’d fought countless times and won each one, but there had never been anyone to share in that joy—until now.
He’d never thought that strange before. It had always been like that, too natural to question. If anything, the feeling he had now was what felt unfamiliar.
Would Judith be just as happy tomorrow if he won again?
That smiling face of hers popped into his mind, and Erne flinched.
Last time she said I was praiseworthy, and now I’m hoping to see her smile?
He let out a dry, incredulous laugh.
“…Have I been influenced just by living in the same house and sharing meals with her?”
This is why adaptability is scary.
Even if it’s only on paper, the woman who threw him into an illegal arena was the one whose smile he now looked forward to.
“Am I the weird one now?”
Erne was starting to doubt his own sanity.
***
“It’s done! We’re set, Erne—I mean, Erne dear! We’ve made it!”
Judith hugged the pouch of gold coins close to her chest, her eyes sparkling with emotion as she looked at him.
It had already been five days since they started frequenting the arena.
Erne hadn’t lost a single match.
Judith hadn’t missed a single bet.
A passing fighter called out to Erne with a cheeky grin.
“Win again, you skinny guy.”
Erne’s face twisted in frustration.
“Why is my nickname still ‘skinny guy’ even after all these wins? If you won’t call me ‘handsome guy,’ at least go with ‘strong guy’ or ‘winner’ or something. There are so many better options.”
“That’s so childish.”
“And ‘skinny guy’ isn’t?”
“Better than ‘puny bastard.’”
Erne frowned.
Easy for her to say—it’s not her nickname.
She ignored his disgruntled expression, eyes gleaming as she thought about the next round.
“Then win this one too, Erne.”
Judith raised her fist in encouragement and cheerfully skipped off to place her next bet.
She’s going to end up like her brother at this rate…
Clicking his tongue, Erne headed into the waiting room—just as a voice whispered in his ear.
“I heard it’s a corpse that doesn’t decay.”
