I was idle.
Ever since becoming a knight under Cynthia's employment, my life had turned into one of complete idleness. And I don't say that lightly—I mean truly idle, no assignments, no duties, no real reason to even wear my sword.
I'd been here for two whole days. Besides the occasional dinner invitation or a forced outing to social events, I was mostly just window dressing, left waiting around like a faithful dog.
And as always, the one actually escorting her was still Epsilon. He was the one to carry her when she was tired, to walk her through the marketplaces, to accompany her into social halls—while I stood two meters away in the shadows, watching the door.
Having grown bored, I began socializing with the Hemser estate staff, including the maids and guards. I quickly learned their names and routines, finding them easy to befriend. However, adapting to the profound emptiness within me was a challenge. The idle days provided too much time for my thoughts to drift. I sometimes hallucinated, seeing Leyla in the hallways and gardens, only for the visions to vanish when I blinked. Perhaps I was losing my sanity.
And then… there were the letters. My small supply room was now filled with love letters from the maids of Hemser. I didn't even know why. I wasn't exactly doing anything heroic here.
I was rifling through the pile when I crossed paths with Epsilon. His eyes landed on me with that familiar look of irritation.
"What is it?" I asked flatly.
"Stop wasting your time flirting and actually do your job as a knight," he snapped.
'You bastard,' I thought bitterly.
'You're the one keeping me from doing my job in the first place.'
When Cynthia was tired? He carried her. When Cynthia wanted to shop? He followed her. When Cynthia attended social meetings? He went in with her. And me? I was always the shadow outside.
Trying to be civil, I picked up a letter and held it out to him with a smirk. "Want one?"
"No." He spun his head, refusing even to look. Then came the lecture—about knightly values, about discipline, about dedication. His voice droned on while I mocked his mouth movements behind his back, perfectly mimicking him like a child in a schoolyard.
"You listening to me?!" He suddenly turned, catching me mid-mockery.
I straightened instantly, putting on my most serious face. "Yeah. I hear you."
His eyes narrowed with disbelief. "Then follow me."
"…For what?"
"I'm going to test you."
'…Huh?'
We arrived at a wide, sunlit training field. Dust clung to the air, stirred by the movements of sparring guards. The moment Epsilon stepped into view, the guards stiffened, bowing respectfully as if his presence weighed heavier than the midday heat.
I took a moment to size up the place. The number of guards here was… pitiful. No matter how strong Epsilon was, numbers still mattered in a real fight. This estate was vulnerable.
"Stand here." Epsilon pointed to the dirt in front of him, motioning me to face him.
"What exactly do you want me to—"
Before I could finish, a sudden gust cut across my cheek. The wind was so sharp it left a thin, stinging line of blood. If I'd been slower, it would have taken a chunk out of my face.
"Well, your reflexes aren't bad," Epsilon said with a small, almost amused smile.
'woah... that face of yours is absurd...'
F*ck… don't think about how handsome he looks when he smiles. Focus, Keith. This man was the architect of your death in the novel. And now he was attacking me without warning.
'…Is he actually trying to kill me?'
"So… you want me to fight you?" I said aloud, swiping the blood from my cheek with the back of my hand.
"This isn't a fight," he replied coolly. "It's my way of testing you. Did you honestly expect to win against me? You don't even have mana."
The contempt in his voice made my blood boil. Did he really think I was just some decorative knight? He didn't know how hard I'd trained—how I'd pushed my body to twice the limits of the Nerwine knights.
"Then just touch me once," he said, gesturing with a taunting curl of his fingers. "If you can lay a hand on me, you win."
The nearby guards stopped their training and gathered at the edge of the field. Even some maids drifted in, whispering excitedly.
"A duel between Sir Keith and Sir Epsilon? I didn't expect this…"
"Who do you think will win?"
"I love Sir Keith, but against the Great Magician? My bet's on Epsilon."
'I can hear you, you know.'
"Epsilon…" I called out, my voice carrying over the crowd. "I'm going to win." I shifted into my stance, smiling faintly. "And the loser obeys the winner's command."
The murmurs grew louder.
"Kyaa~ Sir Keith smiled!"
"I'm betting on him!"
The air shifted. Epsilon attacked first—his wind magic cutting sharper than steel. I felt like I was dancing with death with every dodge, because one mistimed step would split me open. I dove to the right, rolled to avoid another slash, but I couldn't keep evading forever.
I jumped forward, trying to close the distance, but his magic surged upward like a wall, the air roaring in my ears.This was the genius who'd mastered his studies at fourteen. And he wasn't holding back.
Honestly… if he was this strong, why wasn't he the main character?Too bad he was character in a romance novel. In an action-fantasy, readers would have adored an overpowered monster like this.
Srrrt—
A sting ripped through my left arm. Warm blood seeped down, and pain radiated outward. I bit back a hiss, tensing my muscles to stem the flow. Then I rolled low, reaching for his leg—only to find him floating out of reach.
"That's not fair!" I barked.
"It's impossible to forbid a mage like me from flying," Epsilon laughed lightly.
'…Bastard.'
He didn't stop moving—hovering just above me, weaving through the air. Then the ground beneath my feet erupted as earth magic clawed upward.
'Cheating son of a—'
My breath was getting heavier. Stamina drained fast when you were dodging this much.
"You're wide open," he said from above—upside-down now, his head hanging toward the ground, feet in the air. He aimed his finger at my forehead like a pistol.
"Bang."
A violent force slammed into my skull, and I was thrown backward. The world spun, my ears ringing.
When my vision cleared, I saw him drifting toward me. His boots touched the dirt again as he crouched down.
"Hey, you alright?" he asked, a hint of worry breaking through his smugness.
I didn't move.
"Hey!" He tapped my cheek sharply. The crowd's whispers rippled.
"I knew Epsilon would win.."
"But Keith went flying so hard!"
"Did he… kill him?"
"He never holds back…"
Sweat, cold and slick, traced a path down Epsilon's temple. A stinging slap echoed, followed by a sharp, "Oi! Wake up—"
His breath hitched, and then he sensed a hand, cold and clammy, brushed his back. He spun, eyes wide, to see Keith's hand, stained crimson, gripping him.
Then, a slit of an eye cracked open, revealing a bloody grin. "I touched you… I win, you smug bastard."
"You're alive…" Relief flooded Epsilon's face, quickly morphing into a flicker of irritation..
And then… the darkness crept in. My consciousness slipped away.
'…Damn it. Did I just die?'