There weren’t many ways for a commoner to seize the word “success.”
Especially as a woman.
They could become an exceptional merchant, or perhaps the head maid of a noble family of Count rank or higher, or marry as the fiancée of a young master while working as a maid, or even become the top courtesan in the kingdom’s biggest pleasure district.
The road to success was long and narrow for someone of humble origins.
And yet, that very road was laid out before Rachel, born in a small village to the west of the Elperion Kingdom.
“Dad, buy me a sword.”
On the year she turned 13, while helping her peasant father with farm work, Rachel made this sudden request.
“What? A sword all of a sudden?”
“Yes!”
“Why?”
“If I make a lot of money, I can make you happy, right?”
“Hahaha. My daughter, your dad is already happy.”
“But people say you have to dream big! I’m going to become a personal bodyguard for a noble. It’s safe and I can earn a lot of money!”
“……Rachel, listen well. Nobles don’t entrust bodyguard duties to women.”
“Why not?”
“Uh… Because, naturally, they are seen as weak.”
Weak.
It wasn’t just that reason that Rachel realized when she turned 17.
She came to understand this during her fourth year of stubbornly pursuing swordsmanship training.
It was due to the inherent weakness attributed to being a woman and the prevalent male chauvinism in noble society.
To them, women were merely possessions.
To them, a common-born woman was just a “sex slave.”
They never would assign women the grave mission of safeguarding lives or maintaining honor.
It felt unjust.
She was confident in her abilities; she even showed exceptional talent in swordsmanship. Yet, opportunities were always withheld.
“I won’t give up! I will become a personal bodyguard no matter what!”
Determination and pride filled her spirit.
Rachel didn’t put down her sword, and at 19, after her father passed away in an accident, she started staining her hands with blood.
Her rage at the unjust world exploded.
She wanted to overcome it.
She wanted to slice through all this injustice.
So she threw herself into the harshest of paths.
This was the time when she headed toward the chaotic Northern Regions of Winterfell.
She slashed through whoever crossed her path and trampled upon everything around her.
And as a result, she earned the moniker of [The Purple Knight].
However,
She faced repeated failures.
At the recruitment events for personal bodyguards.
Bitter from her experiences, Rachel applied to several recruitment events hosted by families of Counts and above, achieving good scores each time but inevitably gulping down bitter cups of rejection.
But she never gave up.
In the end, she finally managed to become a bodyguard for a Count.
[Elden Raphelion]
Her relentless pursuit bore fruit, fulfilling the promise she made to her father.
Of course, the path to being the personal guard of a Count was paved with less-than-pleasant realities.
“Heh. I directly defied my father’s opposition just to get you hired.”
“Thank you. I will guard the Young Master with my life.”
“No need for that.”
“Pardon?”
“If you strip completely, I’ll double your promised salary.”
“………”
Rachel gripped the hilt of her sword in its sheath.
On her first day as a bodyguard,
She nearly beheaded the Young Master.
Fortunately,
“……Well, if you’re okay with just your promised salary, there’s no need for that.”
Faced with Rachel’s overwhelming killing intent, the Young Master quickly retracted his vulgar proposition, averting disaster.
Of course, his attempts to claim her didn’t stop.
Yet, Rachel never thought about quitting. Not just because of the money, but because her job was incredibly cushy.
Elden Raphelion didn’t rely on anyone when feeling threatened.
He would confront threats head-on, a true warrior who wasn’t afraid of getting his hands dirty.
Furthermore, he had solid combat skills.
He could handle most challengers by himself, so Rachel got to lounge around most of the time.
In Rachel’s eyes, his fighting style resembled reckless brawling, but unlike other noble scions, he had enough skills to defend himself. So, there was no need for her to expend energy dealing with small fry.
Though she was appointed as a bodyguard, her daily life involved idling about, meeting a master who required no protection.
She considered it a reward for her harsh and unjust life; a compensation for having defied fate as a woman.
As long as she let her lord’s constant crude comments drift into one ear and out the other, it was the sweetest job imaginable.
And five years slipped by.
“To reach the brothel, we need to head to West 18th Street.”
Even on days when she had nothing to do, Rachel always accompanied Elden on his outings.
Whenever he arrived at a new territory, he would always make a stop at the brothel first.
Then, the mission would follow—a trip to the tavern where he would guzzle booze and get trashed.
This was always the order of things.
But suddenly,
“……Let’s go eat somewhere romantic.”
The sequence of events was turned upside down.
It felt strange, yet adhering to past experiences, she guided him to a tavern.
And then,
‘Something’s odd.’
Setting aside the fact that he’d allowed her to dine at the same table, his request for her to become his ‘mentor’ was downright bizarre.
Moreover, he hadn’t uttered a single lewd comment, which had turned into his trademark by this point.
Also, he didn’t touch a drop of alcohol, a habit he had previously indulged in while acting like a wastrel.
‘……What’s going on?’
Even when leaving the tavern, he left a tip twenty times the meal’s cost.
He had never ‘paid’ for anything, be it at a tavern or brothel.
For him, commoner establishments were mere playgrounds.
Though she never initiated chats with her lord, curiosity overcame her, and she asked,
“My Lord, are you not drinking today?”
“Why would I drink when the sun is still high?”
“……”
Hadn’t this bothered him before?
She swallowed those words and posed a different question.
“What do you mean by wanting me as your mentor?”
“Hm? Exactly that. You’ve been watching over me for five years now, so you must know my weaknesses. You will start teaching me tomorrow, so get ready.”
Upon hearing his response, one thought crossed her mind.
‘……Is the Young Master serious about honing his martial skills?’
Chirp, chirp, chirp.
Waking up to the chirping of birds is truly a delightful thing, especially when the warm light of late morning floods through the window.
For Lee Jun-Woo, who used to wake up at 6 a.m., getting ready for work while hearing garbage trucks clatter, this felt like a luxury beyond compare.
After refreshing myself in the morning, I got up, completed a calm bath routine, and dressed with help from some maids.
“Shall we be off, then?”
“Yes, my Lord.”
With Rendler guiding, we headed toward the Main Castle for the final evaluations of the Betrothal Contest.
Lumia’s first public appearance would be held at the Grand Hall of the Main Castle.
While it resembled the grand hall where I dined with the Regretful Trio, this Grand Hall was a sacred place reserved only for the family of the Grand Duke and distinguished guests; it was not an area for ordinary folk to enter.
That’s why…
“I’ll be waiting outside.”
“Good.”
Rendler couldn’t enter the Hall.
Only those participating could come in, and even we contestants had to be searched by guards before we were permitted entry.
After passing through security, I entered the Hall to find the Regretful Trio seated at a large round table.
If the Great Hall was flamboyantly decorated, the Grand Hall harbored a stiff and solemn atmosphere.
“Wait… you?”
As I stepped along the red carpet towards the round table, the Regretful Trio looked at me as if they had seen a ghost.
Ignoring their glares, I took a seat.
Then, I decided to throw the first punch.
“I’m here merely because I haven’t received a definitive answer regarding my withdrawal. Don’t worry, my intention remains unchanged.”
By doing this, I hoped to avoid any tedious interrogations upfront.
At that, Blund awkwardly chuckled and replied,
“Hahaha-. Worry? I was just surprised to see you, that’s all.”
“I didn’t expect it either.”
Deron then commented with a hint of disdain,
“You say you haven’t received a definite answer about your withdrawal? Perhaps your announcement was part of a ploy for attention.”
“Indeed, it might be so. Lord Deron, your insight is truly impressive.”
“Haha-. Really? Then I’ve apparently been tricked. I didn’t know you were clever enough to devise such a plan.”
…Even when I thought I’d broken up their annoying chatter at the outset, I couldn’t completely shut them up.
The mere idea of enduring this for another fifteen days made me sigh.
I wanted to snap back at them for belittling my sheer desire to flee, but I knew it would just lead to more tiresome back-and-forth, so I opted for silence instead.
It would just be a waste of breath.
Better for me to let these fools ramble and speculate as they pleased.
That was their specialty, after all. My generous, modern persona had enough compassion to understand the nonsense they spewed.
Still, I could only hope that this pointless evaluation would start already.
Fortunately…
“The Third Northern Duchess, Lumia Winterfell, is entering!”
With the announcement, the Grand Hall’s doors opened, signaling the start of the event.
This would mark the beginning of a tragic romance drama.
Of course, for me, it would kick off Plan B.
I sprang to my feet, following the Regretful Trio like a coiled spring.
All eyes were fixed on the open door of the Grand Hall.
Then…
Click-clack, click-clack.
I spotted a woman approaching the round table.
Dressed in a white gown with a white fox mask, her hair was equally white. She looked like an angel.
“Hello, everyone.”
She greeted us as she stood at the head of the table.
“I am Lumia Winterfell.”
Beneath that fox mask, her blue pupils began to scan the room, perhaps plotting the downfall of the Regretful Trio.
‘……’
When her gaze landed on me, I felt an eerie chill.
With a smile, she offered a singular greeting.
“Hoho. Looks like we meet again, Lord Raphelion.”
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