IDTML 82

CHAPTER 82………………

She seized Hakan’s wrist without hesitation, twisted it, and snatched away his sword. The spectators stirred with murmurs.

“……”

His wrist bent painfully under her strength, yet Hakan did not let out so much as a groan. He fixed his eyes on Irene.

As expected of Sakar’s bloodline.

Even in those red eyes staring at her, a chilling calmness lingered.

You’ve given birth to too excellent a daughter, Niobe.

The daughter born of Niobe, who had abandoned him and left, resembled her in appearance, but her natural strength was proof that she was his daughter through and through.

“Fairness, is it…? I was being plenty fair. Isn’t this, in fact, unfair?”

It made Hakan all the more desirous of her. As his successor.

“If you truly wish me to be a successor, then let’s do it the way I first suggested.”

With those words, Irene strode confidently up to the knight commander and extended her hand.

“The sword you are wearing, Commander. May I use it?”

“Irene Lycaon, that would violate the rules of the duel.”

The knight commander, flustered by her sudden intervention, couldn’t hide his unease.

“Hakan was the first to break the rules.”

“And on what grounds do you say that?”

The commander stared at Irene as though unable to comprehend the situation.

“Hakan himself knows best.”

She gazed at Hakan steadily, as if telling him he must not lie.

Reading that look, Hakan let out a laugh—half sigh, half amusement.

“You even inherited this from Niobe Lycaon.”

He dropped his sword and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.

It was leisurely, brazen.

“Let’s just say I lost.”

Irene’s irritation surged at his attitude.

That air of “conceding” felt arrogant—
as if he were mocking her father, who had fought with true intent.

“There’s no need for that. The duel—”

But at her words, for the first time, the ease vanished from Hakan’s face. Instinctively, Irene tensed.

“End it here. Or I’ll die of embarrassment.”

From his blunt words, Irene realized his true intention. He simply wanted to escape this duel ground as quickly as possible.

“I said I lost. Hey, referee.”

Hakan gestured. The knight commander, though clearly displeased at being treated so casually, showed no sign of it and declared loudly:

“Cedric Lycaon, victor!”

Even Cedric, watching the outcome, didn’t look pleased—like a man who had received an unwelcome victory.

“……”

Cedric’s gaze locked on Hakan, his eyes radiating a murderous intensity.

Hakan chuckled shamelessly and clapped Cedric’s shoulder.

“A fine match, Duke.”

“That fine match—I’d like to fight it again someday.”

“So it seems your daughter’s stubbornness runs in the family.”

Seeing Cedric’s blue eyes burn coldly, Hakan sauntered out of the arena.

And so, the struggle for parental rights ended with Cedric’s victory.

Meanwhile, Kim Taeheon, who had been watching the scene, was left stunned.

“What is this…?”

It was one question after another. Just the day after he had reported to the Emperor that an imperial knight seemed to be colluding with a foreign king—
a duel was suddenly convened under the Crown Prince’s supervision.

What is this duel for, and what is this flow of events?

What unsettled him most was that it was Irene Lycaon who had brought the duel to a close.

It was as if she stood above Hakan himself—

And then, a thought struck him.

No way…!

The conversation between Hakan and Irene at the banquet resurfaced in his mind.

“Cedric’s child, is it?”
“…Yes, her name is Irene Lycaon.”
“Do you know Niobe Lycaon?”
“Who is your real mother?”

In hindsight, the flow of that conversation had not been ordinary. Back then, he had been too incensed at being rejected by Duke Bechel to think carefully.

Could it be… Irene Lycaon is Hakan’s daughter?

He bit his lip at this new hypothesis.

Black hair. Red eyes.

The typical traits of a Sakari.

He had assumed they were maternal inheritance. But if her mother was Niobe Lycaon, then they had to be paternal.

Damn it, what the hell is this…

Things weren’t just complicated—they were twisted beyond measure. If this wasn’t collusion, but a chance meeting between father and daughter…

This isn’t just a mistake—I’ve completely blundered!

It was the kind of blunder that could cost him the Emperor’s trust. As if he had lit the spark of treason himself. If that spark was proven to be slander, his position would shrink far more than before.

At that moment, Kim Taeheon’s eyes hardened.

No… that’s not it.

It was Lycaon who had created the scandal by hiding royal blood. A vile smile tugged at his lips.

The Lycaons had always been a thorn in his side, as they were one of Crown Prince Reinhardt’s chief allies. This was his chance to strike.

“Concealment of royal blood… is that the angle you plan to use this time?”

A low, chilling voice.

Startled, Kim Taeheon turned his head.

Reinhardt was gazing at him with a calm, piercing look.

“Go ahead. Try it.”

At those words, Kim Taeheon felt an overwhelming pressure and clenched his fists, his pride wounded.

“But be wise in judging the situation. I might overlook something once—but never twice.”

A cold smile formed on Reinhardt’s lips. Kim Taeheon’s mind whirred.

Why is he so confident?

He clearly had something to rely on.

Whenever the Crown Prince looked that sure of himself, it meant he had already prepared a counterstrike. In the original tale, he had always been portrayed as sharp-witted.

What is it? What is he hiding?

Watching Reinhardt leave, Kim Taeheon ground his teeth.

Arrogant bastard.

That air of knowing everything infuriated him—it reminded him too much of Kim Taehyuk from his past life.

Kim Taehyuk.

If not for that guy, the company would have been mine.

Taekyung Group, a major conglomerate leading Korea’s economy. He had been its illegitimate son.

Repeatedly overshadowed by Kim Taehyuk’s achievements, the major subsidiaries had all fallen under his brother’s control.

And now, even after reincarnation, I end up as another illegitimate son!

This time, he had wanted to do things right. But Reinhardt had become the obstacle.

Kim Taeheon’s eyes scanned the crowd, searching.

“Isabella!”