CHAPTER 84……………………………
“Yes, what is it?”
“Ahaha.”
At Isabella’s reply, Arthur gave an awkward laugh, his gaze landing on Irene.
“Oh, Irene.”
Irene instinctively sensed that he had come for her.
“So, what is it?”
“How about a spar? Been a while.”
At her question, he motioned with his thumb.
He was asking for a duel. Reading his intention, Irene glanced at the other department members.
Though Chris had announced break time, everyone was still working instead of resting.
Probably because of Reinhardt…
With a superior present, they didn’t dare relax.
Irene’s eyes happened to meet Reinhardt’s. She hesitated.
She didn’t like the look on his face—especially the cold way he was looking at Arthur.
“Go on, our ace deserves some time to clear her head.”
Chris grinned slyly, giving her an out.
With a small bow of thanks, Irene left the office with Arthur.
“I didn’t know His Highness would be there… maybe I shouldn’t have come?”
Arthur gave an awkward smile as they reached the training yard.
“No, you came at the perfect time.”
With Isabella’s sudden appearance still weighing on her mind, this was a good excuse to breathe.
Arthur said, “Irene, did you hear that Daemon was dismissed?”
“What for?”
“No idea. Just that it was by order of the Crown Prince.”
Irene froze.
No way.
Her mind flashed back to her drunken conversation with Daemon at the papal court.
‘Should I call this an honor?’
‘Why would that be an honor?’
‘Because someone blessed by the Crown Prince himself knows my name.’
Had they overheard everything? Daemon mocking her? If not that… then what?
Arthur noticed her unsettled expression and smirked.
“What’s wrong? You didn’t get along with Daemon, but now that he’s gone you miss him?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
Heat flared in her chest.
“Draw your sword. Unless you want to die.”
Unaware of Daemon’s insults, Arthur looked confused—then got thoroughly beaten down by Irene.
“What are those two doing out there? Their relationship seems… unusual.”
Isabella tilted her head.
A clueless colleague chimed in, “Yeah, maybe they’re dating?”
Isabella stole a glance at Reinhardt. His face was cold and stiff.
That reaction confirmed it.
So he really does like Irene Lycaon?
Jealousy welled up in her chest. It was clear Reinhardt’s attention was elsewhere—not on her.
“Isabella, your face doesn’t look good. Did I work you too hard?” Chris asked.
She quickly changed her expression.
“No, no! I’m just a little hungry.”
“Ah, I didn’t even let you eat, did I?” Chris scratched his head sheepishly.
Another officer jumped in quickly, “Wow, Captain, that’s harsh~!”
Chris shot back playfully, “Guess I’m looking like a tyrant of a boss, huh?”
Laughter spread through the room.
The heavy atmosphere lightened a little.
Reinhardt, realizing his slip earlier, forced his expression back to neutral.
“I’ll hear the rest of the reports tomorrow.”
He left.
On his way back to his office, Reinhardt burned with frustration at himself.
Why am I acting like a child?
He couldn’t separate work from emotion—and it made him feel like a fool.
He could have simply summoned reports to his office. Instead, he’d gone personally to the 1st Search Division.
He usually avoided such visits, knowing his presence stiffened the atmosphere.
So why did I go?
His thoughts drifted again—back to Irene and Arthur.
He knew they were close. He had seen them talking in the training yard before, not just as colleagues but more like friends.
But what if it’s more than that…?
The idea of them being lovers made his head pound. He stopped in his tracks.
“…Again.”
He remembered Irene had once said that when worries clouded her mind, she went to the training grounds.
So he went.
And there she was.
A familiar figure—long black hair tied to one side—moved swiftly across the yard.
His heart lurched.
“Oh? Your Highness?”
Arthur noticed him first, eyes widening.
“What brings you here…?”
Reinhardt replied, “Just thought I’d stretch my body a bit.”
His gaze found Irene. She was staring directly at him.
Her thoughts tangled again.
She had come here to clear her head—yet here he was.
Why did he bring Isabella into the 1st Division?
He knew she was loyal to Lloyd’s side, and still…
Irene couldn’t understand. Asking directly would be overstepping her place as a knight.
What did he do in the original story…?
She couldn’t recall. In the novel, Reinhardt had only been depicted as a rival to Kim Taeheon, an ambitious anti-hero.
But the Reinhardt she knew wasn’t like that.
He only fought to protect what was his.
Then why…?
Could it be… he had special feelings for Isabella?
A sharp pang pricked her chest—then, just as suddenly, her feelings went numb.
Again.
She realized she couldn’t run from it anymore. Something inside her was broken—something big.
Could it be…?
She remembered the prophecy. When they had first learned of her soul’s deficiency, everyone worried—but she had shown no symptoms.
But if this emotional emptiness was the result of that flaw…?
“Are you alright?”
Seeing her pale, Reinhardt looked at her with concern.
“How about a spar, since you’re here?”
The words came out before she thought. She suddenly wanted to cross swords with him.
Reinhardt blinked, surprised.
“I realized I’ve never actually crossed blades with Your Highness.”
She wanted to see how he fought—to understand what kind of man he was.
More than conversation, she always found the sword revealed someone’s character.
“…I see.”
Realizing it was true, Reinhardt nodded.
“Then let’s try.”
Arthur, reading the room, quickly handed him a sword.
Irene watched closely as Reinhardt accepted it and readied himself.
As expected—cautious, deliberate.
But why bring Isabella…?
The question rose again.
Whatever his reason, she couldn’t accept her own emotions.
The thought of Reinhardt and Isabella together made her chest ache.
“Sir Knight, you may strike first.”
At his words, Irene nodded and attacked.
Their blades clashed—but hers wavered first.
Reinhardt noticed, his gaze shifting from the blade to her eyes.
Their eyes locked, closer than ever before.
“….”
A strange current flowed between them. Irene sensed a heat in his green eyes that startled her. She stepped back, flustered.
Is this… a swordsman’s fighting spirit?
No. It was something else.
Her hesitation made Reinhardt’s stance falter too.
“What the hell is this…?”
Arthur muttered, watching them. Neither was fighting at even half their usual skill. Instead, they stared at each other, shaken.
“This is supposed to be a duel?”
If it weren’t the Crown Prince, he would have already yelled at them to fight properly.
But the two of them seemed oblivious, caught up only in each other.
“…Are you feeling unwell?” Reinhardt asked.
“I’m fine.”
Irene answered stiffly, pride stung, and launched herself forward again.
A second strike.
This time she put her full strength into it.
Her crimson eyes burned into his.
Reinhardt’s heart pounded wildly—and in that instant, his sword slipped.
Clang!
It struck the ground, point-first.
“…Your Highness has lost.”
Irene spoke flatly, without a victor’s smile.
“…Yes. I lost.”
Reinhardt admitted cleanly, pulling his sword from the dirt and handing it back to Arthur.
A subtle, charged atmosphere lingered.
Everyone present knew this had been no ordinary spar.
