Chapter 137

Was it mockery? Emil Borden's mouth twisted as he spoke, as though deliberating over the verdict he was about to give. Maxime understood that even after such a dominant display, Emil was the type who would shamelessly declare him unqualified. The knight Maxime had defeated still lay sprawled on the ground, clutching his broken sword in disbelief.

"...Sir Arsen Bern, you have..."

Most likely, he would announce his failure. Maxime let out a sigh and closed his eyes. The sounds around him grew distant—their muttering, his own breath, the pounding of his heart.

If they declared him unfit, would there even be a ‘next’ for him?

Maxime felt the weight of Baek-Ah in his hand. The drop of blood lingering at its tip felt heavy. His vision brightened slowly, as though time itself had slowed. Emil Borden’s mouth opened, and Maxime began to hear the words.

"You have passed the assessment."

For a moment, Maxime’s ears refused to accept Emil’s words. He replayed the sentence, one word at a time.

He had passed the assessment.

Maxime’s expression shifted from stunned disbelief as Emil Borden reaffirmed the decision. His voice was unperturbed, delivering the judgment as if stating an indisputable fact.@@novelbin@@

“The finals will proceed as scheduled.”

A murmur erupted among the other organizers around Emil. Ignoring the commotion, Emil continued speaking.

“The finals will be a match between you and Lady Theodora Bening.”

As others approached to question him, Emil waved them off with a gleam in his eyes that suggested he had other plans in mind. Reluctantly, they backed away, uncertain.

Maxime continued to stare, still somewhat stunned. Had he truly passed the assessment? Wasn’t there more to this? Perhaps the count had laid further traps. Without sheathing Baek-Ah, Maxime voiced a question.

“...Is it over?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Maxime thought it was a foolish question. Emil’s answer, however, was affirmative.

“Yes, you have passed. Unless, of course, you would prefer to withdraw? I’d gladly accept a withdrawal.”

Though Emil’s mocking tone remained, Maxime understood the underlying message. The dreaded outcome had not come to pass. They were allowing him to advance to the finals. His body finally responded to the realization.

“No, I will compete in the finals.”

Maxime sheathed Baek-Ah, offering a hasty answer. He heard Emil’s dismissive snort.

“With little time left until the finals, make sure to return promptly.”

Maxime’s heart resumed its thunderous rhythm. There was no time to reflect on this so-called assessment. Without even pausing to offer a formal farewell, he dashed out of the room.

“…Tsk.”

Emil Borden clicked his tongue as he watched Arsen Bern’s retreating figure. As soon as Arsen exited, the atmosphere shifted, as though a fragile silence had shattered. Voices surged, pressing in around Emil.

“Borden, that decision was far too hasty, don’t you think? Even if both the treasurer and the count are absent, this—”

“Indeed! To let him pass just like that? We should have held him here by any means necessary or claimed he had failed…”

Emil Borden turned to face the chattering officials with a sharp look in his blue monocled eye, which gleamed ominously. The discontented officials hesitated but continued murmuring their grievances.

“Silence, all of you.”

The command silenced them instantly. He gave them a stare that warned against further questions, though one official mustered the courage to speak.

“Assistant Borden, at least give us a reasonable explanation. As it stands, the count’s wrath will fall on us all.”

Emil let out a long sigh, his gaze icy and contemptuous.

“There were too many variables. This Arsen Bern turned out to be far more skilled than anticipated. Forcing a loss upon someone of his caliber could have unpredictable consequences. And furthermore…”

Emil’s voice grew louder.

“If Lady Theodora were declared the victor of the finals without a fight, rumors would stir. The count would prefer she claim victory over a credible opponent in the finals, wouldn’t he?”

“Still, Assistant Borden…”

“If you’re dissatisfied, feel free to run to the arena and declare the finals void, announce Arsen Bern’s elimination, and proclaim Lady Theodora Bening the tournament winner.”

The official fell silent, his mouth snapping shut like a scolded child. Emil smirked as he observed the reluctant expression on the official’s face.

“That is, assuming you have the courage or authority to handle the consequences.”

With a wave of his hand, Emil dismissed the group. Some nodded in understanding, while others muttered among themselves as they dispersed. Emil remained seated, watching them leave.

What a tiresome burden he’d taken on.

Emil let out a deep sigh, the mocking gleam in his cold, blue eyes fading. He had volunteered to shoulder this burden, to dive headfirst into the flames.

“Damn it all…”

Emil closed his eyes, recalling how his life had changed the moment his daughter returned to the royal court. Ever since then, his fate had taken an irrevocable turn.

==

When Leon Bening became head of the Bening family, Emil Borden, as a court noble working within the palace, had essentially become a servant to the Bening household rather than merely an ally. Initially, he had been hesitant. From the start, Leon Bening’s ambition was clear enough to feel like a physical presence. Even as a court noble, Emil was still a minor noble, without a firm foothold. Seeing a chance to reverse his fortunes, Emil had accepted the hand offered by the count, effectively binding himself to Bening’s service.

The scorn, he could endure. It didn’t matter that the count treated him poorly. Under Bening’s protection, Emil Borden had secured his family’s place within the noble ranks and provided them with a respectable lifestyle.

“Congratulations! It’s a beautiful daughter!”

When Marion was born, Emil felt like he had gained the entire world. But he hadn’t realized then that her birth would be the prelude to his own tragedy.

Marion grew up beautiful. Too beautiful. Her ebony hair was so soft that Emil’s wife said brushing it felt like running her fingers through silk. Her deep blue eyes, like a lake, and her delicate, perfect features made her resemble a doll.

“Marion will be a sensation in the capital’s social circles. Nobles, perhaps even royalty, may propose to her based on looks alone.”

His wife watched their sleeping daughter with a mixture of pride and worry. Emil laughed and wrapped an arm around his wife.

“Our youngest daughter is growing up to be stunning. She takes after you.”

His wife smiled softly at his words.

“True, but there’s something about her eyes… it reminds me of you.”

“Don’t say such things. It’d be a disaster if she actually took after me.”

Emil’s wife placed a gentle hand on Marion’s dark hair, brushing it aside as she sighed.

“Can’t we stop cooperating with the main family?”

At her suggestion, Emil’s face hardened, and he shook his head. His wife’s fingers trailed down Marion’s cheek.

“We can’t. The count would never tolerate betrayal.”

“But it would only be an end to our cooperation…”

Emil shook his head firmly, cutting off his wife’s hesitant words.

“The count wouldn’t have offered his hand if he had any intention of letting me go. Now that I’ve accepted, I have no choice but to see this through. That is the responsibility I bear.”

Emil’s voice rang with bitter resolve. Outside, night birds called out into the dark, their sorrowful songs drifting through the still air.

“…I must protect you. And our children.”

But the day Leon Bening first set eyes on Marion, Emil’s resolve was put to the test. Looking at Emil with his characteristic, unfeeling gaze, the count spoke with chilling directness. The teacup in front of him seemed entirely forgotten.

“Let’s not beat around the bush, Emil. Send your youngest daughter to the main house.”

Emil’s face stiffened in a way it never had before. The count didn’t seem to notice or care, waiting only for Emil to agree. If he handed Marion over…

Emil bit his lip. A loud warning blared in his head. There was no room for hesitation. Emil Borden spoke words he’d never dared utter to the count.

“No, I won’t.”

The count’s eyebrows twitched slightly, but Emil didn’t waver despite the displeasure on his face.

“Emil, I don’t believe I misheard you.”

“You heard me correctly. With Lady Theodora already here, why would you ask for Marion?”

Theodora had also grown into a beautiful, formidable young lady. Watching her wield a sword with a radiant smile was a sight that did not pale in comparison to Marion.

“One can never have too many assets. And as noble as my daughter may be, she can’t wield the same influence in court. Your daughter could capture the hearts of the capital’s nobles with her looks alone.”

Emil Borden had a line he would not cross. And at this moment, he could not nod his head in agreement, even if it cost him everything.

“Let me be clear, Emil. Bring your daughter under the Bening family’s banner.”

“No. I will never give up Marion, my youngest daughter.”

He didn’t care if this decision cost him everything he had built. Emil’s eyes burned with defiance. The count’s gaze grew colder.

“Emil, I dislike repeating myself. After all this time working together, I’d expect a better answer. The girl would be far happier as my foster daughter.”

Defiant, Emil swallowed down his disgust. To Leon Bening, Marion’s beauty was a potent weapon, and he would use her as nothing more than that.

“That is not possible. No matter the favor you request, this one I cannot grant.”

“It’s not a request. It’s an order.”

“If it’s an order, then for the first time, I will refuse. We are allies, not lord and servant.”

With that refusal, Emil’s fortunes plummeted. Once considered a candidate for high office, his influence waned rapidly, and the nobles who had allied with him gradually pushed him from power.

The count’s silent warnings became increasingly evident. Emil’s household staff began to disappear, replaced one by one by Bening’s own men. While the count had stopped directly requesting Marion’s presence, Emil knew it was only a matter of time until he would attempt to bring him back under his heel.

Then came a period of uneasy quiet. Emil, feeling the tension easing, lowered his guard. But it was then, in the lull, that the true danger struck.

As Emil left the palace one evening, he barely recognized the soot-covered figure sprinting toward him. It wasn’t a servant sent by the count but one of his own loyal aides, who had served him to the end.

“Master…”

Emil’s heart sank at the sight, and he strained to make out the aide’s trembling words.

“The estate… the Borden estate…”