"A warrior's weakness, concealed in flowers and paralysis."
In an instant, crimson streaks appeared across Jared's neck, temples, and between his eyes—each perfectly positioned to deliver a killing blow.
"Ha. He's absolutely toying with Jared."
Sissair muttered under his breath. The crowd murmured agreement.
The Façade mercenary possessed a viciously cruel streak.
He could end this with a single strike—yet instead, he humiliated Jared like a cat playing with prey.
Though the opponent was a celebrated hero of an empire, they witnessed a malicious intent to systematically dismantle the reputation Jared had built over decades.
The faces of the Katzen delegation flushed crimson with humiliation.
Jared, however, had no time to feel shame. Every ounce of his concentration was devoted to avoiding the next strike.
There were no openings whatsoever.
A deep, primal fear of death trembled at his feet.
It felt as though he faced a towering black wave—a hopeless, suffocating sensation, as if no matter how desperately he struggled, he would inevitably be swallowed whole.
Jared had experienced this feeling only once before, during a particular duel.
'When I crossed swords with the First Prince.'
His body had been the first to recognize that terrible premonition.
'But isn't he dying now? Then, could this opponent truly be—'
At that moment, the sword technique shifted irregularly, as though to refute Jared's suspicions.
Unlike the elegant yet vicious swordsmanship of the First Prince, this style exuded the ferocity of a warrior who had clawed his way up from the bottom, overcoming countless hardships.
'Which one is real?'
"Release your Auror, you fool!"
The Fourth Princess shouted upon seeing Jared pushed back so helplessly.
He looks like he's losing—is it time to abandon appearances?!
Jared's blade, wrapped in a gray aura, barely carved out a path of retreat for its master.
"Haha."
As expected of a ten-star knight—the Auror was formidable and menacing.
But Cesare remained calm, his blade unwavering.
'Yes. No matter how you achieve victory, as long as you win, nothing else matters.'
At that moment, Jared's nose twitched. The veins at his temples bulged visibly.
Damn it—why now, of all times...
Jared flexed his fingers against the faint discomfort in the hand gripping his sword.
'Now is when the medicine takes effect.'
Hidden among the crowd, Medea concealed a faint smile behind her composed expression.
In her past life, Jared had been the expedition's greatest warrior.
Medea had accompanied that expedition for several years, observing him carefully the entire time.
All of his habits. Every mannerism.
Long ago, when first knighted, Jared had suffered a serious hand injury—a wound so severe it nearly cost him a finger. Even after treatment, a lingering pain remained.
To manage it, he always carried water and frequently consumed blackberries called belladonna.
Belladonna was a poisonous plant—three berries could kill a man.
Yet in controlled amounts, it functioned as an effective anesthetic, helping him forget the pain.
Except for one critical weakness not yet publicly known.
'If you inhale the scent of violetta while consuming belladonna, the medicinal effect intensifies.'
Beyond anesthesia, symptoms of paralysis could occur.
In her previous life, this fact became public knowledge only after Jason ascended to the throne.
At that time, Medea had used this very method to eliminate one of the great generals who threatened Jason's rule.
The violetta flowers decorating every corner of the banquet hall tonight were floral tributes prepared for Jared from the very beginning.
This was the wreath to be offered at Jared's funeral—to announce his death as a fallen warrior.
Medea made eye contact with Cesare, who glanced back toward the crowd.
'He noticed it too.'
She nodded subtly, confirming what he suspected.
The well-shaped lips beneath the white mask curved into a knowing smile.
Meanwhile, Jared grew increasingly anxious as his hands stiffened.
"Shit..."
The direction of his blade kept shifting subtly, forcing him to adjust his grip irritably.
It had been a grueling fight even with healthy hands—but if this continued, defeat was inevitable.
And it would be miserable. Humiliating.
'No. I cannot allow this.'
Cornered, Jared bit his lip and reached into his pocket, withdrawing something forbidden.
He hurled it toward Cesare.
A spiked chain—a trap-type weapon designed to ensnare an opponent's movements.
Though forbidden in duels, Jared knew that if he won, the Fourth Princess would somehow cover up the violation.
The chain sprang forward like a black serpent.
'Now!'
Seizing the opening, Jared's gray Auror surged viciously toward Cesare's chest—filled with ferocious intent to pierce his heart.
Cesare swung his blade.
A silver arc flashed through the air.
The severed chain clattered to the floor, its momentum lost.
Jared's sword followed it down.
*Clang!*
"Aaahhh—!"
Jared screamed, clutching his hand. Where his fourth finger should have been—there was nothing.
"Ahh! My—my hand... my finger!"
"Kneel."
The command was spoken with calm, clear authority. In stark contrast to the tyrannical swordsmanship, the voice carried utter leisure.
*Thud.*
Jared collapsed to his knees.
Even his desperate screams were silenced by Cesare's blade pressing against his throat.
Cesare, who had been gazing down at him with cold eyes, turned toward Medea.
As though nothing momentous had occurred, his beautiful lips curved into a leisurely smile.
"I wonder if Your Highness will find this gift to her liking."
It was an unequivocal victory for Valdina.
Silence descended upon the hall.
It was different from the dumbfounded quiet that had followed the princess's duel moments before.
One combatant was drenched in blood, howling in agony. The other stood untouched, unharmed.
The duel's outcome—achieved in mere moments—was so devastating that no one knew what to say.
"Wow!"
Then, like a dam breaking, thunderous cheers erupted.
"The Façade mercenaries won! They utterly dismantled the general!"
"Our Highness has prevailed! Valdina triumphs again!"
Didn't Katzen's general resort to a forbidden trap when pressed into a corner? He'd brought this upon himself.
Amidst the people's jubilant roars, Medea walked forward to stand before the Katzen delegation.
"Fourth Princess, are you satisfied now?"
"This—this is..."
The Fourth Princess's face had gone deathly pale. Two consecutive defeats had left her reeling.
No matter what techniques had been employed, the duel's outcome could not be overturned. Hadn't she witnessed it with her own eyes?
Moreover, compared to the mercenary who had violated no rules whatsoever, Jared had committed a foul by deploying a prohibited weapon.
The Fourth Princess trembled visibly.
The Katzen delegation shared her shock.
"How... why..."
They were utterly astounded.
Jason, too, was shocked to see Façade's mercenary overpower Jared—but not as profoundly as the others.
'It's entirely Angelique's fault for escalating matters to this point.'
Most of the delegation members she'd brought were her own supporters.
Aside from Jared and Kensington, they were unremarkable—there would be no significant consequences for him.
'Angelique will be pushed even further from the line of succession because of this debacle. In that case, I should reach out to the Empress Dowager.'
The Empress Dowager would never elevate the other princes and princesses—her longstanding enemies—to the throne.
Which meant Jason would become her only viable alternative.
Jason's eyes gleamed at the prospect of claiming the fallen Fourth Princess's political remains.
"Grand Duke Castullo."
Jason flinched.
The Princess of Valdina was looking directly at him.
"I hope that the Grand Duke—who serves as both judge and guarantor of this duel—will formally confirm our victory."
Her eyes remained as calm and gentle as they had been before the duel. The dried bloodstains on her arm, still untreated, evoked a sense of poignant fragility.
Nevertheless, Jason felt profoundly unsettled.
He had been so pleased by the Fourth Princess's downfall that he'd overlooked the fact that he, too, was entangled in this affair.
'I guaranteed the duel because I was certain Katzen would prevail.'
What was he supposed to do now that Valdina had won?
Cesare, observing this exchange, suppressed a laugh.
Even at the moment of undeniable victory, she set a trap to ensnare Jason.
It was abundantly clear now—the princess was deliberately targeting his cousin.
"You swore before God that you would judge fairly and faithfully. I trust in the Grand Duke's judgment—and in God's."
Silence.
Jason glanced around.
The Fourth Princess caught his eye and shook her head frantically, silently commanding him not to acknowledge the outcome under any circumstances.
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