**Chapter 2: The Spar That Broke All Expectations**
The next morning dawned crisp and annoyingly bright over the palace training grounds. I—still stuck in Duke Valerian Voss's unfairly gorgeous but terrifying body—stood in the middle of the sandy arena, gripping a practice sword that felt way too light in my hands. Turns out, this body was stupidly strong and had years of elite sword training baked in. Who knew being a villain came with muscle memory?
The system chimed cheerfully in my head:
[Daily Task: Complete the spar with Crown Prince Elias without dying or maiming him. Bonus objective: Make him question his life choices. Reward: +50 favorability points if bonus achieved. Penalty: -100 if you lose too pathetically.]
"Great. Motivational," I muttered.
A crowd had already gathered—nobles, knights, a few scheming courtiers whispering behind fans. They were here to watch the "mad duke" get humbled by the perfect prince, no doubt. In the original novel, this spar ended with Valerian cheating (poison on the blade), Elias winning dramatically, and the duke storming off in rage, which accelerated his villain arc.
Not today, Satan.
Elias strode in wearing simple white training gear that somehow made him look like a fallen angel—golden hair tied back, sleeves rolled up to show toned forearms, emerald eyes scanning me with that mix of wariness and challenge. He twirled his sword once, fluid and perfect.
"You actually came," he said, stopping a few paces away. "I half-expected you to send a servant with excuses."
I shrugged, trying to look casual even though my heart was doing Olympic gymnastics. "I said I'd be here. Besides, running away would just make me look guilty of... whatever you think I'm guilty of."
A faint smirk tugged at his lips. "Everything, probably."
The referee—a grizzled captain—called the start. No poison, no tricks, just skill.
Elias moved first, fast as lightning. His blade sliced toward my shoulder in a testing strike. I parried on instinct—Valerian's body knew what to do even if my brain screamed *abort abort*. The clash rang out, and I pushed back harder than expected. He blinked, surprised.
"Not holding back?" I asked, circling him.
"Should I?" he shot back, lunging again.
We traded blows—quick, precise. I wasn't trying to win; I was trying not to die and maybe not look like a total psycho. But the more we fought, the more I realized this body was *good*. Really good. I blocked a thrust, spun, and countered with a sweep that forced him to leap back.
The crowd murmured. Someone gasped.
Elias's eyes narrowed, but there was a spark in them now—excitement? "You're different today. No dirty tricks. No taunts."
"Maybe I grew up overnight," I panted, wiping sweat from my brow. My silver hair was sticking to my face in a way that probably looked dramatic instead of messy. "Or maybe I just don't want to die young."
He paused mid-strike, sword hovering. "What did you say?"
Shit. Too on-the-nose.
Before I could backpedal, he attacked again—fiercer this time, like he was testing if I was bluffing. I dodged, parried, and—on pure adrenaline—disarmed him with a twist I didn't even know I could do. His sword clattered to the sand.
Silence fell over the grounds.
Elias stared at his empty hand, then at me. Breathing hard. Cheeks flushed from exertion (or something else?). The prince—*the* Crown Prince—was disarmed by the villain duke in front of half the court.
I lowered my blade slowly. "Uh... yield?"
He laughed—a real, surprised bark of laughter that made my stomach flip. "You... actually beat me."
The crowd erupted. Some cheered (the ones who secretly hated politics), others whispered furiously.
System: [Bonus objective achieved! Favorability +50. Current: -45 + 50 = +5 (Neutral → Mild Interest). Well played, chaotic host.]
Elias stepped closer, ignoring the stares. Up close, sweat glistened on his collarbone, and those emerald eyes were locked on mine like I was a puzzle he suddenly wanted to solve.
"You could have gloated," he said quietly. "The old Valerian would have rubbed it in everyone's faces."
I sheathed my sword, trying to play it cool. "Maybe the old Valerian was an idiot. Winning feels better when it's fair."
He studied me for a long moment. Then, softer: "Private dinner. Tonight. My chambers. You earned it."
My brain short-circuited. In the novel, "private dinner" with Elias only ever happened with the love interest after like 200 chapters of slow burn. This was chapter... what, 13 now?
"I... won't poison the food," I promised weakly.
His lips curved—almost a smile. "I'll hold you to that."
As he walked away, the crowd parted like he was the sun itself. A few nobles shot me dirty looks, but others... curious ones.
System: [Warning: Side characters noticing deviation. Favorability from minor nobles fluctuating. Also, the original 'heroine' equivalent—Countess Liora's brother, Sir Rowan—is glaring daggers. Potential rival detected.]
I glanced over. A tall, dark-haired knight with jealous eyes was watching Elias leave, then me. Oh boy. Love triangle incoming?
Back in my ducal carriage, I collapsed against the seat, adrenaline crashing.
System: [New mission unlocked: Survive the private dinner without confessing you're from another world. Bonus: Get him to laugh again.]
I groaned. "This is escalating way too fast."
But deep down? A tiny, traitorous part of me was thrilled.
The villain wasn't just surviving anymore.
He was winning.