CHAPTER 07
Asilia gazed at the sleeping Cretes.
Just like yesterday, he was fast asleep with his arms wrapped around her waist.
To think such a defenseless man couldn’t be easily killed.
It was absurd—and also made her anxious.
Was this the extent of her capabilities?
No wonder people said the Emperor of Revilla couldn’t trust her.
Unconsciously, Asilia bit her nails.
Was there truly no way to kill Cretes? Or at the very least, to hurt him?
By now, it was nothing more than a matter of pride.
“But if he really uses magic…”
Asilia turned to look at Cretes.
From what she knew, those who could use “magic” lived exclusively in the Whipolios Empire.
And they were notoriously secretive.
People who feared magical power either tried to kill magicians or persecuted them.
“If he really is a magician…”
Then it made sense that she couldn’t so much as scratch him.
Magicians were often called walking disasters.
“What should I do…”
But she couldn’t just sit idly by. Even if he was a magician, even if he was a walking disaster, the mission she had been given was to kill him.
At this point, it had become a matter of stubbornness.
How could she hurt Cretes? Along with the thought of killing him, Asilia began to feel a growing curiosity about this man who was stronger than her.
“If my actions don’t even feel like a threat to him… then I’ll make them feel threatening.”
Muttering to herself, Asilia carefully pried Cretes’ hand off her waist. Even as she moved, he didn’t stir—he was sound asleep.
Silently, she stepped off the bed and tiptoed out of the bedroom.
“…Pfft.”
How much time had passed?
Once the sound of her light footsteps faded, Cretes finally let out the laughter he had been holding in.
“She really is adorable.”
He touched the corner of his lips, which had curled up without him realizing.
Just having that person—who had once left so long ago—return brought him this much joy.
“She doesn’t even remember, though.”
Rolling over, Cretes pressed a hand to his forehead and sighed deeply.
He had no idea how things would unfold.
He didn’t even know why the Emperor of Revilla had sent her here so easily.
But one thing was certain.
For now, he needed to make Asilia lower her guard against this place.
He hoped she would come to see it as her home—the place she was meant to return to.
“I don’t know how long it’ll take…”
He just wished that all of Moria would come to feel familiar to her.
Maybe, at first, she’d come at him roughly, trying to kill him—but someday, perhaps, she’d fall into his arms and whisper words of love.
Someday… truly, someday.
In the early hours of dawn, Asilia headed straight for the training grounds.
When they said they’d confiscated sharp objects, she’d assumed they only meant her hidden weapons. But that had just been wishful thinking.
“How did they even find the dagger I’d hidden…”
Clicking her tongue, she grumbled as she walked. She’d searched through all her luggage brought from Revilla, only to find every single blade missing.
At this rate, she had no weapon to harm Cretes with. So, she’d decided to steal one from the training grounds.
Because of the late hour, not a soul was in sight. Taking advantage of that, she slipped into the armory.
Just as she picked up a dagger—
“You know, cats have been appearing a lot in the palace lately.”
“…!”
“First climbing over walls, and now trying to steal.”
She turned—and there stood a familiar man.
It was Adrian, brushing back his sweat-soaked red hair.
He flashed a toothy grin and said,
“Good evening, Your Majesty the Empress.”
That smile was infuriatingly smug.
Asilia swallowed dryly and quickly hid the dagger behind her back.
Adrian, having clearly seen the movement, let out a half-smile.
“So, what are you planning to do with that? Oh—were you going to aim it at His Majesty?”
At his words, Asilia kept her mouth shut. She was tense, but Adrian merely narrowed his eyes.
“With a dagger like that, you wouldn’t even scratch his skin.”
He’d easily guessed her intention.
Which made sense—he had overheard her conversation with Isaiah the other day.
“You speak as if that man couldn’t possibly be harmed or killed,” she said warily.
Adrian nodded as if it were obvious.
“Well, of course—no, wait. It’s no fun giving answers away for free.”
Looking around, Adrian picked up a nearby sword and handed it to her.
“If you can beat me in a duel, I’ll tell you.”
“…”
“You came all the way to this smelly training ground—might as well have an excuse, right?”
With a wink, he tried to lighten the mood. But when Asilia scowled in disgust, he chuckled like a mischievous boy.
“Come on now, don’t look at me like that. Even I get hurt when you make a face like that, Your Majesty!”
Was he speaking formally or informally?
He seemed to have gotten used to talking down to her and couldn’t even address her properly now.
“In that case, how about this?”
“…?”
“If I win, you’ll tell me what I want to know. But if you win… then you can speak however you like with that rotten tongue of yours.”
“That sounds like a terrible deal for me.”
Adrian scratched his head with the sword hilt. But soon enough, he shrugged and said,
“Alright, fine. But next time, make sure you wager something I’ll actually want.”
That wink again—it was thoroughly unpleasant.
Shaking her head, Asilia gripped the sword and stepped out of the armory.
Her dress would make it harder to move, but she didn’t care. She already knew what kind of swordsmanship Adrian used.
Adrian followed confidently behind her, his heart pounding.
Asilia Lestantis.
The Sword of Revilla—and the Emperor’s blade.
She was notorious not just in Moria, but in other nations as well.
Revilla, a nation that prized bloodlines above all else, had entrusted her with the title “Sword of Revilla”—a name given only to the most elite.
Now then…
Last time, she’d been caught off guard. That’s why she hadn’t shown her full strength.
But now—what was her real skill like?
They took their stances and faced each other with swords raised.
Red eyes and golden eyes clashed midair.
Clang!
Steel rang out, echoing through the still air as they clashed.
She’s fast.
Adrian frowned.
He’d known from the moment she accepted the duel that she wasn’t an easy opponent.
They had crossed paths on the battlefield before, but never exchanged blades like this.
And he’d underestimated her.
Asilia was a knight who knew how to mask her physical disadvantages.
She moved swiftly, deflecting every heavy strike he made.
And all the while, she launched piercing counterattacks.
Just a moment’s misstep—or if he lost sight of her sword—
“Wait, wait—!”
Adrian cried out in panic.
But Asilia didn’t flinch. She closed the distance in a flash and brought the flat of her blade down on his wrist.
“Argh! I said wait!”
“There’s no wait on the battlefield. It’s kill or be killed.”
“This isn’t a war zone—ugh, fine! I give up. I lost!”
Adrian pouted as he rubbed his hand. He tried to act casual, but he couldn’t deny the chill that ran down his spine.
What if that blade had been sharp?
What if she had struck him with the edge instead of the flat?
He might’ve spent the rest of his life without a wrist.
She really is the Sword of Revilla.
Adrian clicked his tongue and looked at her in awe.
The more he saw, the less he understood.
How could Revilla discard such a skilled knight?
Just because she survived the battlefield?
There were so many things he wanted to ask. So many things he was curious about.
But those were things he had no right to know.
Letting out a long sigh, he shrugged and spoke again.
“Well, I lost. So I’ll tell you what I know.”
“…”
“His Majesty the Emperor… is immortal. In other words—he’s a god.”
