TMKM 10

Chapter 10

‘That man is Nick Paroa. Iron Horse Duke Nick Paroa.’

If he won, he would gain an enormous amount of fame. Even if he lost, his opponent was not someone who would bring him much shame.

That was why he had chosen him in the first place.

He wanted to use Nick as a stepping stone to restore his tarnished honor.

‘If things go badly, stab the horse’s neck again.’

The prince had whispered those words to Xylus before the match began.

It was supposed to be a last resort, but this time too, Xylus seemed unable to resist that vile temptation.

Xylus had to live up to the prince’s expectations.

There would be no third chance, so he had no room left for hesitation.

The prince was not a patient man, and Xylus had to use every means available to him, believing that this was his final opportunity.

The worst thing Xylus could imagine was falling to the ground.

But Nick Paroa’s reflexes were far beyond anything Xylus had imagined.

One, two….

Before he could even count to three, Duke Paroa’s lance came charging toward him.

He was constantly one beat, one rhythm, faster and longer than Xylus.

The moment the horse’s hoof struck the ground, Nick Paroa realized it.

Xylus’s lance was approaching not to strike a man, but to strike the horse’s neck.

The first time might have been an accident.

But if he repeated the exact same act twice, he would be proving that the first incident had been intentional as well.

Yet that bastard could not possibly be stupid enough to fail to understand something so obvious.

Nick immediately understood.

The reason an ordinary Garding Knight could dare to be this bold was because a cunning Pig Prince was standing behind him.

Bang!

Nick swung his arm with all his strength, determined to answer the provocation.

Unfortunately for Xylus, the difference in strength was overwhelming.

Duke Paroa knocked Xylus off his horse with an impact that felt as though he had been struck in the chest by a hammer rather than a lance.

Xylus’s lance, on the other hand, simply fell away without even so much as tickling his opponent.

But the truly serious accident happened after that.

“Ugh…?!”

Xylus’s left leg was halfway over to the right when it became tangled with the reins.

The problem was the long strap hanging loosely from the horse’s bit all the way down to its chest.

As Xylus kicked out with his left leg, his right ankle became twisted around the stirrup.

His feet and head were flipped upside down like an acrobat performing a stunt.

With the horse continuing its relentless charge, the man was dragged along the ground in that position for quite some time.

Gasps mixed with screams erupted from the stands.

Most of the cries of sorrow came from nobles and women.

The men, who cared more about the competition and spectacle than human life, shouted in excitement instead.

“Paroa! Paroa!”

“Paroa! Paroa!”

Amid the roaring cheers, Duke Paroa pulled on one of the reins.

Xylus’s horse was also stopped by the soldiers, but by then, he already appeared to have lost consciousness.

His arms hung limp, and his neck was bent at an unnatural angle.

Looking at his wretched body, it felt as though the empty space left behind by a soul that had silently departed could be seen.

The extravagant tack, the loose gorget, the wall that could not be overcome, and Nick Paroa.

All those needles had sewn the threads of the man’s misfortune into death.

The stunned officials rushed over to check Xylus’s condition.

But the only thing they could do for him was untangle the strap caught around his ankle and carefully lay him on the ground.

Duke Paroa slowly turned his horse and looked back at the chaotic scene.

His expression was still impossible to read, but he did not seem confused or troubled.

He simply watched in silence, as though he had done nothing more than what needed to be done.

His calmness felt brutally cold.

He did not even bother getting off his horse.

From that arrogant display, Lanram could tell.

The death of a common-born Garding Knight would leave not even the slightest mark on his reputation or his feelings.

He did not seem afraid or sorry in the slightest that he had played a part in someone’s death.

‘He’s a terrifying man.’

Lanram thought as she held onto the grieving Sera.

‘But at the same time, he’s incredibly sensual.’

Lanram thought she could understand why men who loved bloodshed were so fascinated by him.

The pure-white knight collapsed on the ground and the pitch-black knight standing tall and unmoving above him created a scene that was cruelly captivating.

Lanram stood there blankly, staring at the sight as if she had been bewitched by a demon.

An indescribable shiver ran through her entire body.

After confirming that there was no hope for the Garding Knight with his broken neck, the people quickly removed his body.

Xylus’s tragic death was cleared away before anyone even had time to mourn him.

Whether intentional or not, injuries and casualties were unavoidable.

That was the kind of competition a person had to enter while prepared for such things.

“Paroa! Paroa!”

“Paroa! Paroa!”

The excited crowd continued to roar, chanting the winner’s name.

They had chosen the man who had provided the most dramatic entertainment at the very end as both the hero they would praise and the subject of their evening drinking table.

The duke rode toward the VIP section.

The horse’s hooves clopped steadily until they stopped in front of the railing.

He was facing the Pig Princess, who sat there with a deeply troubled expression.

The man raised his pitch-black iron gauntlet as if asking what she intended to do.

The princess’s face turned red and then pale with anger, while the Crown Prince looked even worse.

Meanwhile, the Lord of Salt Castle clapped with a pleasant expression.

Judging by how genuinely simple-minded he seemed, he might have been a kind man, but he certainly did not seem like the sort of person who would make a good husband.

When the princess gave a signal, the trumpets sounded.

The marshal shouted in a deep, powerful voice, as if proving why he had been given the job.

“The winner is Nick Paroa!”

His name was called out passionately.

The nobles seated behind the royal couple began giving reluctant applause as well.

At the same time, they anxiously watched the Crown Prince’s expression.

Most of them knew about the strained relationship between the Pig Prince and the Iron Horse Duke and were constantly walking a fine line between the two.

The prince clapped once for every three claps from everyone else.

His movements were so irritated that they almost sounded like the clattering of teeth.

“The winner shall dedicate this honor to the woman he cherishes.”

The princess spoke in a stiff, dignified voice.

She reached over the railing toward Duke Paroa, who showed no intention of dismounting.

She was holding out the glass rose to him.

And when the man tilted his head toward her, she whispered,

“You monster. Murderer.”

Her accusation was so quiet that only he could hear it.

“Thanks for the compliment.”

The man calmly replied to her sharp whisper, which sounded as though she wanted to bite his ear off.

Then, without hesitation, he confidently took the glass rose by its stem.

The glass rose glittered brilliantly in the sunlight like a jewel.

He looked around the VIP section, wondering which woman he should offer this dazzling, ostentatious honor to.

A restless atmosphere hung among the nervous guests.

Some awkwardly cleared their throats, while others turned their heads with pale faces.

Most of the unfriendly gazes came from young women.

Women who dragged the hems of their delicate dresses across the dusty training grounds despite the clouds of dirt rising everywhere.

The man peered into that wavering sea of people through the narrow eye slits of his helmet.

Among the women glittering like glass roses, he finally found her.

Abigail Bellar.

The face he never wanted to see again was truly sitting there.

She was surrounded by a group of young women who followed her.

“…….”

For the first time since he had stepped outside the tent, the muscles that had moved smoothly and effortlessly suddenly stiffened.

The instant he caught the contempt and avoidance in Abigail’s eyes, he became incapable of functioning normally.

The gazes of the other women whispering beside her were similarly painful.

The man was perfectly hidden inside a hard shell that no one could pierce.

And yet, whenever he stood before women, he felt completely naked.

He was prepared to fight even the strongest warrior without hesitation, but when it came to being looked at by women, he had a painfully low tolerance.

There was only one thing in this world that could make him shrink back.

The gazes of delicate women.

Nick had unquestionably seized victory.

And yet, strangely enough, he could taste defeat.

Then came an unbearable wave of shame and humiliation.

When a person is treated like a monster, it is only natural to want to live up to those expectations.