Chapter 59
The stadium was electrified, the tension palpable with every shot fired. The crowd erupted with excitement, cheering for Edith with fervor.
“Your Grace—”
“Go, Your Grace!”
“You’re amazing, Lady Edith!”
She had become an unexpected shooting sensation. Yet, beyond the admiration and applause, the scores between her and Nixon remained incredibly tight. Unlike the previous lackluster matches, this final showdown was filled with intense competition and suspense.
At the start, Edith held a slight lead. However, as the match progressed, Nixon began to showcase his skills, inching closer and closer. By the final shot, Nixon had a narrow 1-point lead. Whoever managed to make that final shot would secure the victory.
Cliffhanger moments aside, Edith was determined not to let the pressure get to her. With steely resolve, she squeezed the trigger for her final shot.
“8 points!”
A disappointed sigh echoed through the arena. Perhaps the pressure had gotten to her, or her concentration wavered during the crucial moment.
Nixon took his last shot quickly, before Edith could steady herself.
“10 points!”
Victory belonged to Nixon. The officials showered him with flowers, while the audience, despite cheering for Edith, applauded his triumph wholeheartedly.
As the final shot was made, Edith’s view broadened. She had been so immersed in her own performance that she hadn’t fully taken in the surrounding atmosphere. Nixon stood awkwardly, his clothes now adorned with petals, while the entire stadium roared with applause.
Defeat in the final didn’t sting as much as expected. She had given it her all, and the result felt clean and honest.
“I guess I’m the runner-up.”
And more importantly, in a larger sense, she had won—her journey through the tournament was a success. The shooting competition had been a triumph in and of itself.
From afar, she noticed Clyde standing up, his usual composed demeanor giving way to something more anxious. His gaze locked onto Edith, and he gestured urgently toward the side of the arena, indicating she should retreat to a safer area.
Though the game had ended, Clyde’s control over the situation wasn’t over. Seeing his gesture, Edith gave a subtle nod in response.
The nobles in the spectator section quickly dispersed as soon as the match ended. They left without a second glance, a clear display of rudeness.
Edith’s eyes swept back to Nixon, who stood a little lost, brushing off petals from his clothing. She approached him with a bright smile and extended her hand for a congratulatory shake.
“Congratulations on your victory.”
Despite the monumental achievement of winning such a prestigious event, Nixon hunched over awkwardly, clearly unsure of how to react.
“Y-Yes…”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m not sure if this is… okay,” he mumbled, still visibly uncomfortable.
Seeing Nixon’s dejected expression, Edith knew she couldn’t just leave things as they were. While she intended to reward him eventually, immediate action was necessary.
In truth, Nixon had shifted sides—going from Peyton to her. Though he likely hadn’t fully grasped the underlying politics of court intrigue, it was now her responsibility to ensure his safety.
“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”
“Protect me?”
Nixon looked bewildered, unsure of what she meant. He likely hadn’t heard the chilling reports of four missing or dead competitors either.
“Do you have family to look after?”
“No, I’m alone.”
“Then just focus on yourself. From now on, you’ll travel with the guards I assign you. We’ll keep you safe.”
“Why would this be necessary…?”
“Just do as I say. Until you join the Imperial Guard, you need to stay low. The rewards will be fair and delivered soon.”
The conversation needed to end here, as the award ceremony was imminent. Edith stepped back toward her seat, signaling her guards to keep an eye on Nixon.
Despite his hesitations, Nixon reluctantly agreed to follow her instructions. She hoped he would go safely on his own path from here on. Given the tensions between the nobility and Clyde, Nixon might play a crucial role as a witness should any disputes arise over match-fixing in the tournament.
—
Back in the royal palace, Edith made her way into the masterless bedroom of the Crown Prince.
Clyde was expected to return late after overseeing the grand closing ceremony of the tournament. Only Edith had returned early, though her carriage pulled to the palace gates naturally, as if this was her rightful place.
The palace servants quickly attended to her needs, as though the mistress of the room had returned. A personal maid dried her damp hair and dimmed the room’s lighting, leaving only a few candles flickering softly. The room was enveloped in a quiet, soothing darkness.
Exhaustion weighed heavily on Edith. She felt as drained as if she had poured every ounce of her energy into the tournament. Her body was numb, struggling even to move a finger.
She felt as if her spirit had been thoroughly worn down, much like an overused battery. Crawling into the bed, she let herself fall onto the feathered pillow, burying her cheek into its softness.
‘Ah, I feel like a year of my life has been shaved away.’
Thoughts swirled through her mind—moments where she could have done better, mistakes she could have avoided. If only she hadn’t made that last slip, the match could have been more closely contested. She thought of how much effort she put into not only competing but also creating a spectacle to elevate the tournament’s atmosphere.
Eventually, her eyelids grew heavier, and her thoughts blurred into sleep.
Tomorrow would bring more tasks—checking on Nixon’s safety, investigating the fate of the missing competitors, monitoring the movements of the noble faction. Despite not being driven by ambition, losing to the scheming nobility was not an option.
Before long, she slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The room, draped in heavy curtains, was dimly lit with only faint candlelight.
Unbeknownst to her, a tall, slender silhouette moved quietly toward her. The figure slipped behind the curtain and gently pulled it aside, stepping into the dim room.
Golden eyes, sharp and intense, focused on Edith. After a moment, a slight crease appeared between his brows as he noticed her peaceful expression.
“Mm… the scent,” Clyde murmured softly.
Clyde took a deep breath, inflating his lungs as he inhaled deeply. The scent, sharp and distinct, was unmistakably that of an Omega. It carried the freshness of blooming fields, stirring something primal within him.
This intensity was something he had never sensed from Edith before.
“Edith?”
Her delicate eyelids, forming soft, charming curves, didn’t move an inch. She must have been utterly exhausted. Reflecting on the fierce determination she displayed throughout the day, Clyde felt fortunate she didn’t collapse in the middle of it all.
Throughout the tournament, Clyde couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Seeing Edith run from one duty to another, dealing with the chaos he had unleashed, weighed heavily on him.
He had been astonished by the extent of the nobility’s reach—buying or eliminating every competitor in the finals. Such bold actions were supposed to avoid his attention, as he never expected them to risk so openly, but they clearly had no fear of being caught.
Their aggressive tactics made the situation far more dangerous. Clyde had watched helplessly as potential threats loomed over Edith.
“She’s safe, and that’s all that matters.”
The thought of taking a bullet in her place made his skin crawl. Every moment of imagining Edith falling victim to an assassination attempt left him shivering.
“I’ll deal with Count Ditrian for this.”
In the finals, Clyde kept a close watch on Edith, ensuring every possible security measure was in place. He erected walls of protection around her. Yet, in the chaos of the match, should an assassination attempt occur, his control would falter.
Despite his efforts, the tournament proceeded without incident, likely due to Count Ditrian’s intentions changing, or perhaps the strict control had simply worked.
Clyde pulled the blanket up around his shoulders, noticing Edith’s temperature seemed slightly elevated.
“Mm…”
Edith shifted in her sleep. She was so deeply immersed in slumber that the slightest touch shouldn’t have affected her. Yet, her subtle movements stirred something inside him—whether intentional or not.
“I’m sorry.”
Clyde whispered softly, his voice barely a breath. He didn’t want to wake her, his gaze lingering on her round cheek and the delicate curve of her ear. Watching her asleep had become one of his simple pleasures.
Still, the overpowering Omega pheromones were thick in the air.
The natural reaction of an Omega meeting an Alpha—the irresistible pull of their scent—drew him in, but Clyde fought to resist it. He knew better than to provoke her body.
His hand waved gently through the air, pushing back the temptation. He didn’t wish to stir anything uninvited.
Edith’s forehead glistened faintly with sweat. Her elevated temperature and the subtle hint of pheromonal shifts suggested her body was reacting strongly to her overexertion.
“I’ll have a doctor called early tomorrow. I don’t want to disturb her rest, but this scent is too much.”
The intense, rich Omega scent was becoming too distracting.
