Ariel had been bedridden with a hangover for two days, and she was just now beginning training in the morning.
In the mornings, she usually had reading time with her book friend, but due to being knocked out by her hangover, her book friend didn’t show up at the library, so Ariel had no choice but to start training from the morning.
Sizzle!
Crunch!
Taking a big bite of an apple, she conjured black magic on her palm.
The book claimed that the properties of magic were akin to innate temperaments.
Just as the color of magic resonates with hair color, its characteristics are purportedly inherent too.
Perhaps my affinity leaned toward the ‘electric’ domain.
In the medieval era, wielding ‘electricity’ seemed like an incredible privilege, yet it was a time devoid of any products to harness it; I couldn’t shower a million volts like Pikachu either, so it would only be usable as an offensive method.
‘Are Tesla and Edison not around?’
As this silly thought crossed my mind, I was sitting on the outskirts of the outdoor training grounds, enjoying a moment of rest.
Suddenly, I noticed an unfamiliar noble heading toward the mansion.
Accompanied by a servant, his outfit was markedly unusual, appearing to belong to a high-ranking nobleman.
‘Who is he?’
The nobleman passed by the training grounds with a face that seemed quite angry.
He looked to be around the age of my father, and as I scrutinized his features, someone came to mind.
‘Deron Caelid?’
His golden hair and similar facial features resembled those of Deron.
However, I wondered why his father arrived just two days before the Betrothal Contest ended.
Who could say?
Shrugging it off, I resumed my training, and the afternoon rolled in.
And then.
‘Hmm?’
Under the languid sunlight, while drying off my sweat, I caught sight of yet another noble.
Judging by his attire, he seemed to be one of the high-ranking nobles as well, and he had a familiar appearance that jogged my memory.
‘Blund Rosfell?’
What was going on?
In the morning, Deron’s father headed to the mansion, and now, in the afternoon, Blund’s father was doing the same.
What on earth compelled the fathers of the candidates to converge just before the conclusion of the Betrothal Contest?
‘Then…’
Just as I was about to think about Kyle’s father, now a runaway ninja, not making an appearance, I caught sight of a nobleman with blue hair.
Perhaps due to the preceding imposing figures, this noble seemed rather insignificant, making me even more certain.
It must be Kyle’s father.
Here were the fathers of the candidates gathering two days before the contest’s end.
Moreover, Logan, the Grand Duke who was supposed to be in the capital for work, returned home early.
Lumia, who had been out of sight for days, was suddenly on my mind.
The fathers of the candidates flocking to the Grand Ducal Palace, and Logan returning early even amidst official duties.
There must be something hidden behind this Betrothal Contest that prompted this gathering.
I fumbled around and checked the peace of the agreement tucked in my pocket.
If I had been just a bit late, I would have had to negotiate not with Gelwood but with Logan.
And that negotiation would surely have turned out poorly.
No matter how much authority Gelwood had, a father’s fury at his child’s suffering would surpass all else, after all.
Any normal father would want to pass judgment on the one who brought pain to their daughter, rather than negotiate with them.
‘Ugh.’
I thanked the swift withdrawal for leading to a quick negotiation and took another big bite of my apple.
Crunch!
And I thought to myself.
‘Everyone had a dad, huh?’
A silly notion indeed.
—
“I’m sorry… Your Grace, the Grand Duke.”
“I have entrusted you with full authority, and since you have done your best, there is no need for you to apologize.”
Logan had returned to the castle after just four days on official business in the capital, where he learned all the details from Gelwood. He heard about the past testimony of the withdrawer, Elden Raphelion, as well as the current situation.
Though disheartening, what mattered to Logan was not the past, but the future. A leader guiding the populace should not be shackled by past events.
Therefore, the pardon for that rat, Elden, was not something he was willing to consider. As long as the treaty clearly stated that everything that occurred during the Betrothal Contest would remain confidential, that was sufficient.
Ensuring the culmination of the family’s storied tradition and the celebration of the people was of utmost importance. For a ruler serving the Northerners, nothing would be more disturbing than the disappointment of the masses.
And failing the Betrothal Contest would leave him with no face to show his ancestors.
He could not leave a stain on the grand history of Winterfell. He could not allow the people of the Northern Regions to be disappointed.
The punishment for his youngest daughter, who sullied their sacred tradition through a poor judgment call, would come later.
With that thought in mind, Logan looked down at Deron, who was trembling on his knees before him.
Thanks to Lumia sending letters to each house, he could swiftly negotiate with the heads of the noble families.
His intention to ensure the successful outcome of the Betrothal Contest culminated in a deal with the heads of families who had chosen to seek atonement, resulting in the victory of the Caelid Duchy.
No, technically, the Caelid Duchy had no decision-making power.
It was inevitable.
Marquis Rosfell had declared he would dismiss his son, and Count Beallon had brought forward an empty knight prison.
The only remaining candidate was Deron Caelid, thus he became the final victor.
Though, for now, it was merely a façade, a victory without substance.
“I’m not granting you the win because I want to.”
“I-I’m sorry…! I’ll gladly accept death…!”
“I’ll give you exactly 100 days.”
“Yes, yes?”
“If you can’t earn recognition from Lumia as her husband within that time, the engagement will be as if it never existed. Do you understand?”
This too had been agreed upon with the Caelid Duchy.
The punishment for the instigator of the abuse, Deron, would ultimately hinge on Lumia’s decision.
For a ruler of the Northern Regions, it was his duty and responsibility to ensure that the grand parade the people were eagerly awaiting would proceed safely, rather than be preoccupied with the trifling punishment of a mere puppy.
“So roll around and bark like a dog to heal Lumia’s pain. Got it?”
One hundred days.
Deron had to knock his forehead against the ground in gratitude for having been granted that time.
Thud!
He had to shout that this would be an opportunity, a crisis, or perhaps a punishment.
“I-I will do my utmost!”
What could have been either a misfortune or a blessing was the naïve pledge made by Deron Caelid.
—
A pitch-black night settled in.
Blund fiddled with the bandage wrapping his right hand.
He didn’t know how much it hurt.
And he had no idea how humiliating it felt.
Having never even been hit by his father, being struck by a mere girl was an agony beyond words.
“…If only I had killed that bitch back then.”
Grinding his teeth, Blund thought.
Fortunately, Lumia had not shown her face for days.
Had she, by now, he might have suffered a far worse fate.
He no longer wistfully desired victory.
Even though he would not have the face to meet his father again, disobeying his father’s command to be of help to the family, all for the sake of creeping beside that wretched girl, was far worse.
“That bug-ridden wench, hiding her identity and now causing such a fuss? If she hadn’t concealed it, none of this would have happened. What a worthless piece of trash she is.”
The humiliation of being trampled by someone he had once stepped on was close to despair.
It was something he never wished to experience again.
“Do you think I’ll submit easily? You pathetic wench, I’ll make you feel deeply why you have lived this way.”
“Hehe.”
Blund chuckled wickedly as he rose from his seat, only to face an unexpected reunion.
“Ah… Father?”
Pow!
Thwack!
The moment they met, a powerful punch flew into his face, sending his teeth flying and shattering his nose in excruciating pain. And just like that, he found himself collapsing to the floor under the weight of an unbearable despair.
“Cough! F-Father…?!”
Holding his bleeding nose, Blund looked up at his father. Never before had he experienced such merciless violence from a man who had never even raised a hand to him. The overwhelming dread he felt was worse than despair.
“Listen up. This fool is no longer a member of the Rosfell family. Strip him of everything he owns and throw him out.”
As his father pronounced the sentence of expulsion, Blund felt a terror that sent him plummeting into the abyss. It was a deep and dark pit from which he would never rise again.
With a hand still clutching his nose, Blund clung to his father’s trousers.
“Ah, Father! What do you mean?! You’re disowning your son!”
Yet all he received in return was more violence. A shoe came flying and struck his already battered face again.
Blund was sent tumbling away, hitting the ground hard.
Pow!
“Cough!”
His eyes, now bloodshot from burst vessels, contrasted with the bright red blood gushing from his nose.
His gums, stripped of teeth, were also bleeding profusely.
“We have no use for a worthless human like you in the Rosfell family. Your expulsion is a decision made in consultation with the Grand Duke, so you’ll never hear the name Rosfell mentioned alongside yours again.”
And that was that.
The cruel assault marked the end of his bloodline tied to the Rosfell family, leaving him stripped of everything he once enjoyed.
Before he could fully grasp the despair, Blund scrambled to his feet and hurriedly exited the Grand Ducal Castle.
“Not like this… Not like this…!”
He began heading somewhere, to the same place he had sneakily gone the day before.
It was where he had learned that to ensure anonymity, one must pay a fee, and he had willingly surrendered all his savings to pay for the mercenary group.
In an effort not to repeat the past where he couldn’t kill, he had promised to cast an eternal darkness upon Lumia Winterfell’s name, giving everything he had in the process.
Money? He could earn that back once he returned to his family.
As long as he could take his revenge, he could part with any amount of cash.
But now, he found himself with no family to return to, and the fee he had paid had become more significant than the burning desire for revenge as Blund made his way to the mercenary group.
And then…
“Ah… Aah…”
He realized he couldn’t escape from the abyss he had fallen into.
The place where the mercenary group had been was now empty, as if it had vanished into thin air.
The group that had promised to fulfill his request had disappeared like a mirage.
Thud.
Sitting down heavily on the ground, Blund raised his reddened gaze to the sky.
And with that, he let out a hollow laugh.
He couldn’t believe everything had vanished in an instant, and all the events that unfolded in that single moment felt surreal to him.
“Ha, hahaha! Hahahahaha!”
Kyle Beallon, who had escaped from the knight prison and thrown himself off a cliff.
Blund Rosfell, abandoned by his family overnight and left on the street with nothing.
And…
Deron Caelid, trapped in a hundred days of uncertainty that could be either misfortune or fortune.
Thus began the punishment that the villains were to face, marking both an end and a new beginning.
*
Crunch!
“Hmm, I think making something like protein powder would really take off.”
The solitary figure left behind was just munching on an apple, lost in trivial thoughts.
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