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“…D*mn it, seriously.”
As he left the gymnasium after sparring with Noel von Decaraznan, Cain realized that his hands were still shaking.
It was the aftermath of his sword fight with that woman—Noel.
Her swordsmanship had been so fierce that he had nearly lost his grip on his own weapon multiple times throughout their exchange. In the end, if he hadn’t returned her sword force through Flowing Star at the last moment— in desperation—Cain would have been defeated.
Thinking back, ten years from now, Princess Decaraznan had been regarded as a swordswoman whose skills, though slightly inferior, were still comparable to those of the princess. Under normal circumstances, it would have been impossible for him to even land a strike against her, let alone defeat her.
Perhaps this was all thanks to the grueling training he had endured under the princess before his return to the past. After all, he had been pushed to his limits and forced to hone his swordsmanship through sheer hardship.
Of course, that didn’t mean he felt the slightest gratitude toward her. Even now, he occasionally had nightmares about the relentless beatings he had suffered at her hands.
Cain let out a weary sigh and rubbed his aching right arm. Just then, he caught sight of Aria standing beside him, her lips pursed in a slight pout.
“Aria, what’s with that look?” he asked, puzzled.
Aria turned her head away with an amused huff.
“It’s nothing. There’s no problem, so Young Lord doesn’t need to worry about it.”
“…”
No man in his right mind would simply nod and accept such an answer.
‘…What’s with her now?’
She had been in a perfectly good mood before they entered the gymnasium, so what had changed? Cain replayed his match with Noel von Decaraznan in his mind but couldn’t find anything that might have upset Aria.
‘…Is this just one of those strange moods teenage girls have?’
As Cain silently pondered her reaction, Aria only grew more irritated. Right now, she disliked everything except Cain himself. And the person she despised most at this moment was Noel von Decaraznan, who was gazing at Cain with a pale face.
‘What a shameless wench!’
Aria scowled, recalling the way Noel had stared at Cain earlier, her expression practically dripping with desire. Did that woman even realize how obvious she had been?
No, of course not. Women like her never did. The more promiscuous they were, the more adamantly they insisted otherwise. It was practically a given that they would deny what was plain to see.
Cain was already surrounded by so many women that Aria couldn’t even count them on one hand. And now, on the very day he met her, a woman like that—a wh0re with the eyes of a b!tch in heat—was being added to the mix?
‘No. Absolutely not!’
If this continued, she might end up in the humiliating position of having to draw lots with other women just to determine which day of the week she could sit beside him.
His side was already occupied by people like Bianca del Castana, who was utterly unhinged, and Kyrie el Denaris, an elf with v0yeuristic tendencies. How could she allow a complete stranger to worm her way into Cain’s company as well?
And yet, this lowly civil servant girl dared to set her sights on him? Serving such an oblivious master was truly exhausting.
With that thought, Aria’s mood improved slightly.
Of course, Cain, who had been observing her sudden shift in expression, only looked more bewildered.
“…Ah.”
Cain, who had been heading toward his room without hesitation, suddenly stopped in his tracks.
There, in the middle of the hallway, where there was no way to avoid her, stood Sarah Cernard.
“…”
“…”
The moment their gazes met, an awkward tension filled the air.
Neither of them spoke, only staring at each other with uncertain expressions. It was inevitable.
After all, when a man and a woman who had once been romantically involved broke up, it was only natural for them to become worse than strangers.
In the end, Cain was the first to surrender to the unbearable silence.
“…Lady Cernard. Please, go ahead.”
“…No, Heir Estel. How could I possibly put my own affairs before yours? The Heir should pass first.”
The exchange was so painfully stiff that even an onlooker would find it suffocating.
No matter how one looked at it, the awkwardness between them was palpable. It was as if they found each other’s presence unbearable.
Watching this exchange, the middle-aged man escorting Sarah behind her merely nodded in understanding.
Yes, this was how things were supposed to be. If anything, it had been strange when Heir Estel had seemed almost giddy upon reuniting with Sarah, as if eager to speak with her alone.
‘…No, considering his age, I suppose it’s not that surprising.’
Young men were often driven by their impulses, after all.
Moreover, the middle-aged man had visited the Estel Ducal House several times with his niece, Sarah Cernard. He knew exactly what kind of person Cain von Estel had been.
How could he forget? From the moment Cain had gotten engaged to Sarah, he had been utterly infatuated with her—sending flowers and letters every single day, trailing after her like a lovesick puppy.
Lately, rumors about Heir Estel had been spreading, and his status had changed somewhat. But the Cain von Estel that middle-aged men like him remembered was nothing more than a fortunate nobleman who had been born into a ducal family.
What meaningful conversation could such a man possibly have with Sarah in private?
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