Seth's gaze swept from Krystin back to Black.
"What? Think sweet words can win over Krystin? Mr. Sewer Rat?"
A few nobles snickered—enjoying the humiliation.
Among them—Lily and Marsha, Elaina's legitimate sisters.
Since Black had framed her, Lily hated him.
Now seeing him insulted—she laughed like a pig, ecstatic.
Seth's words were poisonous, dripping with contempt.
With the mocking laughter around him, even someone slightly fragile would've broken down.
The original owner of this body? He'd have already punched Seth in rage.
But that was exactly what Seth wanted.
He waited for you to strike—so he could crush you.
Break your bones—or worse.
Anticipating this, Black remained calm, still as water.
Seeing Black still silent, Seth's tone turned sharper.
"What? Mute? Or… do you finally realize what trash you are?"
Krystin frowned—about to speak.
But Seth stepped past her, slamming his hand on Black's shoulder—looking down at him.
He leaned close—voice low, each word like a venomous thorn piercing Black's ears:
"Scum like you should rot in dark corners—not dare touch those above you."
His words grew crueler, yet Black didn't flinch.
Seth was surprised by Black's endurance—didn't expect him to neither fight nor retort.
"Interesting."
Like admiring prey, he scanned Black—finally locking onto something in his pocket.
Without asking, he yanked it out.
"You!"
Krystin tried to grab it—but Seth sidestepped, evading her.
"A letter, huh? Let's see…"
Seth slowly unfolded the paper—reading aloud in an exaggerated tone:
"My dearest Black…"
He sneered. "Oh? A pirate has a mother? I thought he just grew from sewage."
Nobles burst into laughter.
Seth continued, voice mocking:
"Mom misses you so much…"
"Heh. Look at this—a slum-dwelling old woman, handwriting crooked, ink smudged all over."
He held the paper with two fingers—disgusted.
"This lowborn bloodline… no wonder it birthed a son who dares covet the Saintess."
These words—for the first time—stirred rage in calm Black.
His fists trembled slightly—he struggled to hold back.
Seth, sensing it, intensified the mockery:
"Let me guess… Your mother earned money through special services for fishermen?"
He made a show of sudden realization.
"No wonder you're so good at pleasing women—family tradition, right?"
Krystin's pure face darkened: "Seth! You've gone too far!"
Her hands behind her back formed a seal—ready to cast a spell.
Then—Black locked eyes with Seth—his lips curling into a mocking smirk.
He lazily raised his gaze—matching Seth's tone:
"Dear wild dog… Oh, sorry—Rampant Wolf."
Black deliberately looked Seth up and down.
"I sincerely suggest—you'd be better off as a lapdog when chasing girls—rather than barking at things not yours."
Seth's eyes sharpened—never expecting such insult.
Black casually adjusted his sleeve, continuing:
"You despise my mother—but at least I have one."
"As for you… wasn't your father just a minor border lord?"
He lowered his voice:
"I heard he climbed ranks by offering his beautiful wife—your mother—to the previous Duke as a plaything."
"And she… died by suicide in despair. Ironically—your father was promoted."
"So your family will do anything to get what they want."
Gasps echoed across the deck.
No one expected Black to say this to Seth's face!
The rumor about Duke Norton sending his wife to rise in rank? It circulated among nobles.
Many doubted it—until they remembered: Norton did rise fast. And his wife did die by suicide then.
Too coincidental? The rumor was likely true.
But fearing Norton's status as a Round Table Knight, nobles only gossiped in secret.
Yet this was Seth's deepest wound.
Now—Black spoke it aloud—striking his most forbidden nerve!
A bloodbath was inevitable!
Seth's face turned livid, fists cracking with force.
But Black ignored him—turning to Krystin, speaking loud enough for all to hear:
"Saintess, isn't it funny? Some people, covered in mud, think standing high makes them clean."
He faced Seth—eyes suddenly razor-sharp.
"If you're going to fight—do it now. If not—get lost. You're blocking my view of the sea with the Saintess."
Seth's expression twisted—never before had an enemy provoked him like this!
"Hahahaha! Fine! Since you're this reckless, I'll teach you—what self-awareness means."
As he spoke—his aura exploded, like he'd tear Black apart the next second.
BOOM!
Seth threw a punch—carrying hurricane-force wind, thunderous roar!
A Level 45 Knight's full-power strike!
Even unarmed—it could shatter a Level 10 pirate's skull.
But Black didn't move.
Because he couldn't dodge.
And because some people wouldn't let him die.
WHOOSH!
In the same instant—a red longsword flew from behind!
Lightning-fast—it clashed with Seth's fist!
CLANG!
At the collision point—a violent shockwave erupted!
The deck descended into chaos.
No one expected—before the ball even started—fighting would break out!
And the one countering Seth? Unbelievable!
Still—the red sword was clearly weaker than Seth.
It was pushed back—step by step.
Finally—a ringing sound—it flew away, repelled!
The fist surged toward Black again!
But just as the fist was about to crush Black's skull—a white barrier enveloped him!
Seemingly thin, yet incredibly hard—stopping the punch not an inch forward!
BOOM!
Seth was repelled backward by the barrier!
Black's crisis was finally over.
"Do you truly want to oppose me?"
Seth growled—bitterly.
His words targeted two people: Alice and Krystin.
The red sword? Alice's.
The white barrier? Krystin's spell.
Alice's strength was inferior—but Krystin? Not necessarily.
"Seth, I should be asking you that."
A sharp, icy—yet beautiful—voice came from behind.
Accompanied by footsteps.
All eyes turned to the speaker.
She wore a dark red gown, its hem flowing like flames—making her pale pink hair look dreamlike.
Vivid red eyes glinted coldly in candlelight. A white-gold corset accentuated her slender figure. A necktie like a blood drop stood out boldly.
Like a thorned rose—gorgeous, noble, and dangerous.
It was Princess Alice.
"Even dogs have owners. I chose him as my guard—he is royal property."
"You tried to kill him—do you truly wish to oppose the imperial family?"
Hearing this, the nobles were shocked.
The princess's words meant she truly accepted Black as one of her own.
Then Seth's actions weren't just attacking a pirate—
They were attacking a royal guard!
The difference? Huge.
"Hmph. Princess Alice—are you serious?"
Seth's expression darkened.
He never expected a true princess to treat a filthy pirate as her guard.
"He's just a pirate—what right does he have to be a royal guard?"
Alice didn't answer. Her gaze cold, she walked toward Black.
A sharp rose scent surrounded him. Just as he thought she'd scold him—
She grabbed his arm—pulled him behind her—then spoke:
"You question my choice?"
"…No, Your Highness."
Seeing Alice firmly protecting Black, Seth clenched his teeth—but could only back down.
"You weakling—spend your life hiding behind women."
He glared at Black—then turned to leave.
"Wait."
But Alice wasn't letting him go.
"? What more do you want, Princess?"
Seth snapped—impatient.
"Apologize."
The moment those two words left Alice's lips—the entire deck fell into dead silence!
Nobles. Servants watching. Patrol guards—all frozen.
Did they hear wrong? The princess wanted Rampant Wolf Seth to apologize—to a mere pirate?!
This made no sense—by status or strength!
For Seth—a war hero—if he apologized? Unforgivable shame!
Clearly, he didn't expect this.
The usually arrogant man stood stunned—then burst into maniacal laughter.
"HAHAHA! You want me to apologize—to a pirate?!"
"Alice—you're not qualified to say that. Maybe if First Princess Afra said it!"
In Seth's eyes—he didn't take Alice seriously.
He gave her some respect—only because of her title.
Otherwise, if anyone else demanded an apology? He'd beat them senseless.
And why should he respect her?
Her strength? Inferior to her sister's genius.
Her nature? Isolated—unlike her younger sister, who knew how to win hearts.
In the royal family? Invisible.
Why respect her? At best—surface politeness.
"You insulted him first. Apologizing is only fair."
Alice didn't care about Seth's words—calmly stating her reasoning.
"Sorry—I refuse!"
Seth had no patience for this—turned to leave.
Whoosh!
The red sword flashed—slamming into the ground before Seth—blocking his path.
"What is this, Your Highness?"
"If you really walk away… I can't guarantee I won't vote for Round Table Knight Howard at the next meeting."
Alice said calmly—no threat, just a statement of fact.
Yet her words shook Seth.
Cyril, son of a Round Table Knight, was shocked.
He never expected Alice to say this—just to force an apology.
Howard was the 6th Seat Round Table Knight—long-time rival of Seth's father, 7th Seat Norton.
They were fighting over a territory!
Who got it? Decided at the next Round Table Meeting.
Every royal and knight had a vote. Right now—support was even.
So the remaining votes were crucial.
And Alice held one of them.
Seth's face turned livid, fists trembling—near explosion!
That land held precious mineral veins!
If his father claimed it—he might rise beyond 7th Seat!
For their family—critical!
And Alice used this to blackmail him!
If he didn't apologize—and she voted for Howard? Massive loss for his father!
Seth would pay the price too.
But if he apologized? Humiliation beyond measure!
The deck was silent. Even the music had stopped.
All eyes fixed on Seth—eager for his choice.
Black felt complex—especially seeing Alice's slender figure.
Calling her "clumsy" wasn't baseless.
She forced this apology—not just to defend him—but because she was too righteous.
A noble fool.
To her—if you're wrong, you apologize.
If you insult someone, you apologize.
Ideals from a morality textbook—not even a child believes anymore.
Yet she lived by it.
Putting aside noble pride.
She didn't think—forcing an apology might cost her a Round Table Knight's support.
In future succession battles—she'd lose allies early.
Was one apology worth that? Not worth it.
A noble fool.
Yet—this clumsy kindness, this simple integrity…
Touched something deep inside Black.
"Fine! Fine! Princess Alice—I truly admire you! So much admiration!"
"I surrender!!! I apologize!!!"
After a long struggle, Seth made his choice—to apologize.
It seemed that despite his temper, he understood: small patience for greater plans.
But from his flushed face, the humiliation was driving him mad.
Under everyone's gaze, he slowly walked to Black.
One hand on his chest—he bowed deeply!
"I apologize for my rude words earlier. I'm sorry!"
His voice was gritted teeth—full of resentment.
The nobles wanted to paint this scene!
This moment was so rare!
Such an arrogant man—the Vice-Captain of the Imperial Knights, son of a Round Table Knight, war hero Rampant Wolf Seth—bowing to a pirate?!
If this news reached the Dragonheart Empire—it'd be front-page headlines!
After apologizing, Seth turned and returned to his spot.
Phew.
Black finally relaxed.
When Seth punched at him—he thought his heart would explode from his throat.
He'd bet—that Alice and Krystin would save him.
And he won.
Even forcing Seth to apologize? A huge honor.
But Black wasn't happy.
From Seth's eyes—he saw no sincerity, only murderous intent.
The grudge was sealed.
Likely, as soon as the ball started, Seth would scheme against him.
But if asked—would he regret those retorts?
Absolutely not!
No reason.
Just… he couldn't let a mother's love for her child be so deeply insulted.
Only motherly love should never be mocked.
Even if he didn't fight for himself—he fought for the original owner of this body.
"Thank you, Your Highness."
Black said to Alice.
Alice didn't reply—bent down, picked up something, and handed it to him.
"Your mother's letter. Keep it safe. Don't let anyone take it again."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"And… as my guard—if this happens again, tell me directly."
"Thank you, Your Highness."
Despite the pre-ball incident, the impact was minor.
The Azure Ball continued as planned.
At the opening, Empress Elizabeth rarely appeared—a brief moment.
She spoke briefly about the ball and gave a toast. To the crowd, this was a positive sign.
Their empress was fine—the rumors were false!
But Black disagreed. If she were truly fine—she wouldn't have left so quickly.
Being stabbed by an Emperor-Tier Assassin without defense? Not a minor wound.
According to game lore—even during the final battle with Jörmungandr, she hadn't fully recovered.
"Alice, you'll host the ball."
Before leaving, Elizabeth only said this.
Besides the empress—Second Princess Alice held the highest status here.
Though isolated in nature, as someone raised in elite education—hosting a ball was no issue.
"Please enjoy yourselves. Before the battle with the Sea Dragons—this may be our last entertainment…"
"To all of you—cheers!"
She gave a short speech—then drank her wine in one gulp.
"Princess is bold!"
"Haha! Let's party!"
"Beautiful lady, may I have this dance?"
"Pfft, creep—get lost!"
They'd sailed for a month—boredom, tension, fear of sea dragon attacks.
Nerves stretched tight. Now—finally free to play. Naturally, they celebrated wildly.
Occasionally, young couples whispered—planning where to spend the night together.
As a ball—opening with social dancing was natural.
Though on deck—the Hodir had nearly every device.
Lights, instruments—all present. Even a professional orchestra.
Like a luxury cruise party—no difference.
In flickering candlelight, guests glided into the dance floor to elegant strings.
Ladies' gowns bloomed like night flowers—spinning into dazzling arcs. Gem-encrusted fans flashed open and closed.
Gentlemen's coat tails lifted slightly with movement—family crests gleaming on pocket watch chains.
Hands touched just right—white-gloved fingertips lightly resting. Skirts brushed polished boots in turns. Exchanging partners left faint perfume trails.
Under crystal chandeliers, countless figures wove in and out—like rose petals scattered by wind—elegant, distant.
A girl's laugh mingled with violin tremors—then drowned in the next passionate waltz.
Black stood behind Alice—scanning faces.
Different scenes unfolded before him.
Like Cyril.
Usually, noble men invited noble women.
But Cyril—a popular nobleman—was handsome, high-status. Many women invited him.
As a gentleman, he accepted all—one dance after another.
Black sighed. Being too popular isn't always good.
Seth's situation surprised him.
He thought—after the earlier incident—no noble girl would invite him.
But Rampant Wolf Seth was still Rampant Wolf Seth.
Even humiliated—he was talented, handsome, well-built, noble-born.
A dream lover for countless noble girls.
They wanted to seize the moment—when their "lover" was vulnerable—win his heart.
Marry Seth? Endless wealth and glory.
Sigh. Indeed, people will do anything for gain.
Black shifted his gaze—saw Elaina, not seen in days.
This little bunny looked beautiful today.
She wore a deep blue gown—hem dotted with fine gold threads—like stars in the night sky.
Her pale golden hair fell over her shoulders—iris flower trembling with light steps.
Many noble youths eagerly waited to invite this beautiful girl to dance.
But Elaina clearly wasn't interested—politely declining every invitation.
What truly interested her? The luxurious feast on display.
Usually bullied by her legitimate sisters, she rarely got to eat well.
Now—free gourmet food? She'd feast like a queen.
So Elaina ate a dessert on the left, a crab leg on the right—her mouth stuffed full.
Like a greedy squirrel.
Black couldn't help but chuckle.
As for her sisters? They were busy dancing—no time to bully her.
Lily, though—plump and not exactly beautiful—wasn't invited by many men.
But due to her high status as a Duke's legitimate daughter,
many swallowed their pride—dancing with this "rich woman" to gain favor, dream of marrying into nobility.
Lily, with a handsome man in her arms, strutted proudly—like a peacock.
Yet she kept stepping on her partner's feet, making him wince in pain—unable to complain under her sturdy build.
Noticing Black's gaze, Lily shot him a venomous glare.
Black found it amusing—so she still held a grudge?
As for Krystin—she was the most popular person at the ball.
Not just men—even women wanted to dance with her.
Truly, she charmed all genders.
Yet Krystin seemed low-spirited, rejecting all invitations.
Just sitting alone.
Others didn't dare disturb her.
The reason for her mood? Also tied to Black.
After the earlier incident, Krystin sincerely apologized to him—
for causing him to be targeted by Seth.
Though Black said it was fine, Krystin still felt deep guilt.
Fitting her character.
Black looked away—one thing confirmed:
Jiaye hadn't come to the ball.
Her injuries were severe—she'd need two or three more days to recover.
No role for her today.
Giggles beside him interrupted his thoughts. He glanced over.
A group of maids chattered—likely gossiping.
But they kept glancing at him, then laughing louder.
???
Black was baffled.
"You're quite popular now. They're teasing someone to ask you to dance."
Karina—standing behind Alice—spoke calmly.
An experienced maid, she knew exactly what her colleagues thought.
This surprised Black.
Perhaps because of Alice's earlier words—indirectly legitimizing him.
To the maids, Black had shed his pirate identity—now a civil servant.
"Hmm? If you're interested, go dance. I permit it."
Alice said coldly.
"Your Highness jokes. As your guard, staying by your side is my duty!"
Black lied smoothly.
If he really went—he'd definitely get punished later.
"How's your literary talent?"
Suddenly, Alice asked something completely random.
"Fairly good, I suppose."
Black answered instinctively.
He did have a foundation—once ranked top in Chinese class.
Hearing this, Alice turned slightly—gave a faint nod—and a sinister smile touched her lips.
Seeing that smile—Black sensed disaster.
This villainess was up to something!
Sure enough.
"Good. During the Literary Duel later—I'll tell you when to step up. Use your talent well."
???
Black was confused. What did the Literary Duel have to do with him?
He came here to eat—zero interest in the Azure Triad Contests!
"When I say go, you go"?
Did she mean… he'd participate?!
"Your Highness, I'm slow-witted—could you clarify?"
"The princess means you'll join the Literary Duel."
Karina, serving Alice long, understood instantly.
Cracked.
Black didn't understand—why him? Couldn't he just be a spectator?
He was just an NPC villain!
"Your Highness—may I ask why?"
Alice nodded—pointed at Seth, dancing with a noble—coldly:
"We humiliated Seth earlier—made him lose face. He'll try to regain it in the Azure Triad Contests."
"If I'm right—he'll aim to win two contests, earning the right to dance the Oath Dance with me—then embarrass me during it. Maybe even force indecent acts."
"So—we must stop him from winning two contests."
Alice's eyes flashed—cold, ruthless.
She might lack sword talent—but her mind was sharp.
"The order of the Three Contests: Literary, Martial, Dragon."
"I can win the Dragon Duel. In Martial—Seth is likely the strongest here. He'll probably win."
"So the Literary Duel becomes crucial."
"Seth isn't strong in literature—but his followers include many scholars. They'll secretly help him win."
"And on our side—the Literary Duel depends on you."
Finishing, Alice gave Black a calm glance.
She loved reading—but had little research in literature. Her talent? Average.
Black felt the sky collapse.
He understood the situation—but had zero confidence.
His literary skill was decent—but not excellent.
And Seth had a whole brain trust behind him!
How could one man compete against many scholars?
"Your Highness—maybe you could find some scholars too? I suddenly feel my talent isn't great. I was just bragging earlier."
But Alice glared coldly.
"I have no followers. The scholars I know are all in the capital."
"And remember—who did I humiliate Seth for?"
With that, Black had no excuse left.
Only choice—face it head-on.
He could only pray the Literary Duel topic was something he knew.
Otherwise—he was doomed.
Amid Black's anxiety—time flew.
The social dance ended to elegant music.
Yet excitement didn't fade—it intensified!
Because the main event was about to begin—
The Azure Triad Contests!
"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your patience. I am Duke Gran, your host for tonight's Azure Triad Contests—honored to present this grand event."
Duke Gran's voice carried a creepy undertone beneath its noble authority.
Though old, he relished such events.
The bloodshed of youth reminded him of his own glorious past.
In his youth, he'd once slain a higher-tier noble in a martial duel—causing a scandal among the aristocracy.
So when Empress Elizabeth assigned him as host—he eagerly accepted.
Though she wanted him to maintain order—Gran secretly planned otherwise.
He wanted violence, blood.
He wanted these youths to tear each other apart!
"Tonight's Azure Triad Contests remain unchanged: Literary Duel, Martial Duel, Dragon Duel—rules identical to past years."
"But the prizes are vastly different."
"What prize is it?"
Nobles leaned forward—eagerly anticipating.
"Heh. Anyone who wins one contest receives a Dragonvein Fruit."
At the words "Dragonvein Fruit", the crowd erupted.
"No way—it's actually the Dragonvein Fruit?!"
"Yes! Market value—10,000 gold coins!"
"And it's rare! In critical moments, it can save your life!"
What these nobles said was true, from Black's perspective.
The Dragonvein Fruit caused a surge in magic or spirit energy—temporarily.
A Level 40 Mid-Tier Swordsman could fight on par with a Level 55 High-Tier Swordsman after consuming it.
Essential for last-resort attacks or level-skipping kills.
Only two flaws:
Severe side effects.
Users must be Level 30+.
Below that? Light injuries—or instant death.
"Furthermore… there is another prize. In my opinion—far more valuable than the Dragonvein Fruit."
Duke Gran paused—his gaze subtly sweeping over Alice.
Tension rose—everyone listening intently.
"Whoever wins two out of three contests… earns the right to dance the Oath Dance with Princess Alice!"
Silence.
Then—jaw-dropping shock.
No noble expected this reward!
The Oath Dance?
This was a courtship ritual!
During the dance, men received a mysterious blessing—massively boosting their charm.
They might even win the princess's hand in marriage!
In short—if you won two contests—you had a high chance of becoming the princess's fiancé!
Realizing this, many young nobles' hearts raced with desire.
Princess Alice might be cold, isolated—but she was still the Second Princess, undeniably noble.
And her beauty? Divine. Her figure? Perfect.
A top contender for Most Beautiful Woman in the Dragonheart Empire.
Marrying her? Not just a stunning wife—but royal connections.
Instantly become imperial kin—endless wealth and glory!
Cyril looked surprised too—he didn't expect this reward.
But thinking deeper—it made sense.
He'd heard the empress was desperate to arrange Alice's marriage—yet found no suitable match.
So this was a backdoor suitor selection.
After all—whoever won two contests? A prodigy.
In Cyril's eyes—even if Alice resisted—once the empress spoke, she'd have to obey.
She deeply respected her mother—never defied her.
But…
He glanced at Seth—sure enough, saw murderous intent in his eyes.
Alice had humiliated Seth so badly earlier—he would retaliate.
If Seth truly aimed to join the Azure Triad Contests—all three victories would likely be his.
Cyril sighed—pitying Alice.
"Ha! Ha!"
Seth clapped loudly—mockingly.
His face radiated triumph. He never expected to reclaim his dignity so quickly!
Alice dared humiliate him for a mere servant? Then he'd show zero mercy!
As for the Azure Triad Contests? If he wanted victory—all three wins would be his!
Literary Duel? He wasn't strong—but his scholar followers could prepare texts. He'd just recite them.
Martial Duel? His specialty. Among the youth here—he was unmatched.
Dragon Duel? Only Alice could challenge him—50% chance of winning.
Overall—very high odds.
Once victorious—Alice, however unwilling—had to dance the Oath Dance with him.
Making her embarrass herself during the dance? Easy.
Or perhaps… an accidental touch on certain private areas? Also easy.
As for the empress? He'd fabricate excuses later.
After all—Alice was the least visible among princes and princesses.
Of course—if she fell in love with him during the dance? Even better.
Seth wouldn't mind breaking her down—then tossing her aside.
Seeing Seth's lewd gaze scanning her body, Alice's face turned icy.
Luckily, Black reacted quickly—blocking his view without drawing attention.
"That Seth—truly means to oppose me."
Alice took a deep breath—suppressing rage.
Seth had glorious strength—his arrogance was understandable.
Earlier, she'd forced his apology using the land vote threat—but that trick wouldn't work twice.
Provoking him further might make him snap.
Never provoke a combat maniac.
Now—only way to stop him? Prevent his victory.
"For the Literary Duel—give it your all. You must win."
In literature, she could only rely on Black.
"Understood, Your Highness."
By now, Black offered no excuses.
Alice had helped him so much already.
Even if he had zero literary talent—he'd force himself through.
Still—no confidence.
All he could do? Bet.
Bet that the poem's form and theme matched his strengths.
Leave it to fate.
"Then—let the first contest of the Azure Triad begin!
The Literary Duel!"
"This year's form—poetry. The theme—love."
"The poems will be judged by several noble elders!"
Duke Gran scanned the crowd—announcing the Literary Duel's content loudly.
Hearing it, the audience remained calm.
Poetry on love? A very standard theme for such contests.
In the Dragonheart Empire, noble gatherings often featured these cultured games.
But common themes were harder to excel in.
The imperial literary world had thousands of love poems—excellent ones too.
Audiences had seen the best. If your poem was weak? The contrast would be obvious.
The key to winning? Craft an unconventional poem from a conventional theme.
"Haha! Heaven favors me!"
Seth inwardly rejoiced.
Love-themed poetry? Too easy!
Among his followers—one specialized in romantic poetry.
With a subtle glance, Seth signaled him—the man immediately began writing on a note.
To Seth—victory was guaranteed.
Yet he didn't notice—Black, standing opposite behind Alice, now covered his face with both hands.
Hiding his expression.
Why hide it? Simple.
He was laughing uncontrollably inside!
Hahahaha!
Black wanted to roar with laughter. He'd never felt so joyful!
When he heard the theme—love poetry—he'd been overwhelmed with delight.
He wasn't good at writing romantic poems—but that didn't matter.
He could use someone else's masterpieces!
Back on Earth—he'd read many poetry collections!
Eastern and Western alike.
Even memorized famous Western poems—to impress girls during dates.
Any one of those—would dominate the Dragonheart Empire's literary scene!
Yes, Seth had scholar followers.
But sorry—Black had an entire truckload of Renaissance-era Western poets behind him!
How could fireflies compete with the full moon?
Dozens of love poems instantly flooded Black's mind.
Now—calmly selecting the best.
While Black and Seth prepared, other noble youths grew eager.
Marrying the princess? Too tempting.
One by one, they stepped forward—reciting freshly composed poems.
Some even recited while gazing deeply at Alice.
Their eyes—dripping with longing.
Alice shivered—wanting to draw her sword and cut them down.
But their poems? Terrible.
Poor writing, shallow meaning—typical "fake sorrow" poetry.
So awkward—you could dig a 3-bedroom house with your toes.
Even Krystin—still upset earlier—wanted to cast a Silence Spell to shut them up.
Even Elaina—the little glutton—put down her fork, abandoned her food, and covered her ears.
Seth quickly received a note from his follower.
It contained a freshly written love poem.
Duke Gran noticed—but ignored it.
The Literary Duel had no strict rules.
If you wrote it yourself—great.
If someone handed you a pre-written poem? That counted as your work.
This was commonly accepted.
After all—true, proud scholars wouldn't give away their creations.
Only low-quality people did that—and they were ignored anyway.
"Ahem!"
Seth cleared his throat dramatically.
Most fell silent—knowing his ruthless nature.
"I can do poetry too. Just composed a love poem—now I'll share it, despite its flaws."
Seth held the note in one hand—other hand behind his back—chest out, head high—pretending to be a poet.
Though—his large, muscular frame clashed with the image.
Clearing his throat, he recited in an affected "poet's tone":
"To the Rose Under Moonlight"
Your eyes shine like morning stars,
Your lips sweet as honey,
I'd become night wind caressing your hair,
Or a stream reflecting your beauty.
Ah! If you'd pity this humble knight,
I'd crown you with sword and blood!
As the poem ended—applause erupted.
His followers clapped loudest. Others joined—some genuinely impressed.
"Seems not bad—has some charm!"
"Indeed, much better than the previous ones!"
"Never thought Seth had literary talent!"
"Pfft, I think it's just average!"
…
Chatter filled the air—mixed opinions.
"This poem is excellent compared to earlier ones—I give it a top rating!"
An elderly noble stroked his beard—nodding slowly.
Other old-school nobles agreed.
To them, the poem had good rhyme, clear theme—far better than those "fake sorrow" youths.
"Hmph. You old fools—judging by status, aren't you?"
Another elderly noble scoffed—mocking.
He knew—they were giving a high score because of Seth and his father's status.
Flattery of power!
"Heh. What's your opinion, Lord Lambert?"
The others flushed—angry at being exposed.
All eyes turned to Lord Lambert, the critic.
Lambert saw Seth's warning gaze—but didn't fear.
He'd always despised Seth and his father—straightforward, fearless of authority.
Lambert stood—launching a scathing critique:
"One word: Cliché! Unbearably clichéd!"
Black jumped—shocked.
Besides Alice—who dared oppose Seth?!
"This poem is utterly unoriginal—a disgrace!"
Lambert's voice burned with passion. As a once-prominent literary figure, his words carried weight.
"How so, Lord Lambert?"
Seth's face turned black as coal—voice full of threat.
But Lambert ignored it—criticized even harder:
"The language? Overused tropes!"
"Morning stars, honey lips, night winds—all overused metaphors!"
"The content? Empty, exaggerated! 'Sword and blood'—but no real context to support it!"
"And this forced melodrama—'humble knight'? Just a clichéd, pathetic lover playing the victim!"
His critique made half the crowd realize—there was truth in it.
At first, they'd been dazzled by the poem's fancy words.
But thinking deeper—wasn't it just word salad?
"Lord Lambert, once a great poet—his analysis is profound. I'd rate this poem average at best."
"I think it's fine—simple and clear beats fake sophistication."
The audience debated—divided opinions.
Alice tapped her fingers on the armrest—as if she'd expected this.
Moments later, she calmly told Black:
"He'll still be rated excellent."
"Why?"
Black didn't understand—the debate was intense.
And Lord Lambert's words were spot-on.
"Because this is politics."
Alice said no more.
But Black got it.
These nobles were opportunists. They wouldn't risk offending a rising Round Table Knight's heir over a meaningless poem.
"Now—judges, please vote!"
As expected—after Duke Gran spoke, most judges gave "Excellent."
Only Lambert gave "Average."
Final score? Excellent.
Tch. All behind-the-scenes manipulation—no fairness at all!
Some upright nobles were outraged, dissatisfied.
But they couldn't voice dissent—risking Seth's wrath.
In the end—they were no different from the rest.
Sigh.
Alice let out a small breath.
Literary duels among nobles were always like this—not pure like martial contests.
Too subjective—inevitably influenced by power.
Much of the empire's corruption stemmed from this self-serving, cowardly noble culture.
All petty schemers!
Alice had long despised this—but as a low-status princess, her voice meant little.
"How is your poem? Ready? What's your chance of winning?"
She composed herself—asked Black.
But Black looked deep in thought, brow furrowed—didn't hear her.
Seeing his expression, Alice thought he was stressed—raised her voice:
"Don't worry. Just do your best. They won't offend Seth—so they won't offend me either."
"Just match his poem's level. Even a tie—we win."
Their goal was only to stop Seth from winning two contests. A draw counted as victory.
"If needed—I'll pressure these old fools myself."
Alice's tone turned icy—the princess truly had some authority.
"Ah? What did you say, Your Highness?"
Black had been deciding which famous love poem to use—completely zoned out.
"… …"
"… …"
Alice and Karina both twitched their lips—thinking this youth unreliable.
Was he backing down?
"Her Highness asked—have you finished your poem? What's your chance of winning?"
Karina repeated.
"To answer, Your Highness—I've finished. And I have a 100% chance of winning."
Black replied casually.
Just now—he'd chosen his poem. A legendary one. He was absolutely confident!
Unless these game NPCs understood nothing about art!
Hearing this—Alice and Karina were shocked.
100% chance?!
Has this guy lost his mind from stress?!
Alice, confused, opened her mouth—
But saw Black's calm face—his eyes bright, focused—locking onto hers.
"Your Highness—leave it to me."
That gaze gave Alice a never-before-felt security.
Could this man… be a hidden literary master?
Black stood—walked forward with ease—spoke clearly:
"Ladies and gentlemen—I'm no scholar, but I've composed a poem too."
As soon as he spoke—mocking laughter erupted.
From Seth's followers—and arrogant nobles alike.
Though Alice declared him a royal guard—in their eyes, he was still a pirate.
A pirate forever.
"Interesting—did you even get a proper education? Know what poetry is?"
"Composing poetry? Won't it be some joke poem?"
"Don't think being a royal guard makes you someone!"
Mockery poured in—Lily and Marsha loudest.
Clearly, they still hated him for the last incident.
Elaina knew why her sisters targeted Black—looked at him with worry.
She deeply thanked Black—thanks to the Obsidian Nectar, she'd broken through to Level 20.
So when Black faced humiliation—her mouth, once able to fit two puddings, could now only eat one.
How much pain she felt.
Among all present—only Krystin believed in Black!
This pure saintess now gazed intensely at him.
To her—Black was so mysterious. Even a great poet wouldn't surprise her.
"Before reciting, allow me to tell a story—a tragic tale of lovers."
Black bowed—spoke slowly.
A story before a poem?
He instantly hooked everyone's curiosity.
No one had seen a poet tell a story first.
"Interesting."
Even the uninterested Lord Lambert leaned in.
Black's mind held countless Western love poems.
But for classic fame? Only one choice: Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet.
Clearing his throat—his usual laziness vanished. He transformed—like a tavern storyteller.
"In the distant city of Verona, two noble families were bitter enemies…"
"When Romeo first saw Juliet—he cried: My past love was false, tonight I meet true beauty! His voice full of youthful passion and devotion…"
"Juliet stood under moonlight—unaware her Romeo hid in the garden. 'Romeo, oh Romeo,' she sighed.
'Why must you be a Montague? Deny your name, or—if you won't—just swear to be my love, and I'll no longer be a Capulet…'"