CHAPTER 95……………………………….
“Has Princess Rubia left?”
“Yes. She’s completely gone. I don’t see her anywhere nearby either.”
After the match had fully ended, Markel, the one in overall charge, frowned in frustration.
“To think she specifically requested Ben… He’s had a few good matches lately, but still…”
Markel glanced at Ben. He was standing in the corner, his forehead pressed against the wall, trembling—a strange sight for someone of his size.
“Not exactly noble material, right?”
Ben was ugly.
Not just in Markel’s opinion—it was an objective fact.
“And that woman wants to pay a fortune for someone who only knows how to fight… She’s strange too.”
“Well, nobles are said to each have their quirks. They pretend to be refined, but Princess Rubia probably has hers as well.”
The idea of casually handing over a blank check unsettled him.
“You’re not… familiar with Princess Rubia, are you?”
Markel studied Ben’s back suspiciously.
Come to think of it, Ben had acted oddly during the match. Normally, he wouldn’t stop until he’d drawn blood, yet he had halted abruptly.
Markel shook his head. There was no way it had anything to do with Princess Rubia.
The original Ben came from a poor family. How could someone who didn’t even know his parents have a connection to a noble princess?
And the current Ben hadn’t reacted at all, even when she had been mentioned multiple times.
“You’re planning to sell Ben to the princess?”
“Of course. Did you see her expression earlier? She may have let it slide today, but tomorrow she won’t.”
A noble would break a subordinate who refused to bend.
Even a quick glance revealed the typical arrogance of nobility; ignoring the princess’s wishes would only bring trouble.
“But I’ll have to remove the Knuckle first.”
Markel grinned slyly.
“I’m not foolish enough to sell a legendary weapon just because someone handed me a blank check.”
Markel had an heirloom passed down from his grandfather: the Knuckle, a legendary weapon said to be crafted by the gods.
But his grandfather had been a petty thief, not a warrior, with no heroic ambitions. Despite the grand title, it was like pearls on a pig’s neck.
Still, Markel’s grandfather had found ways to use it: as an earring on the ear, a nose ring on the nose.
“It’s earlier than usual, but it’s time to switch bodies. Who had the worst recent match record?”
It was a massive scam.
The Knuckle would be implanted in the worst-performing player, and bets would follow.
No one could beat a player controlled by the Knuckle. Once the player gained fame, it would move to the next underperformer. Making money was as easy as eating cold soup.
Clearly, it was a rigged match.
Some spectators occasionally questioned the sudden improvement in a player’s performance. But only Markel and a few insiders knew about the Knuckle, keeping the scheme hidden.
“Come on, get out of that body quickly. We can’t kill him—we need to sell him. Tch.”
Markel tapped Ben’s back impatiently.
To him, the Knuckle was almost embarrassingly simple. It made strange animal-like sounds and stayed quietly in a corner. The only time it became lethal was once it entered the arena.
As soon as the match began, it became a bloodthirsty killer. It had never lost, nor had it ever left the arena without blood on it.
“Ben will be dazed for a while once the Knuckle’s removed. Manage him so he snaps out of it quickly. We can’t complain if he’s given something impressive.”
“Yes, understood.”
“Collect the bets from the capital and get that blank check. Things have been going well lately.”
The Knuckle was a goose that laid golden eggs. Who would sell such a goose?
Markel, not the type to lose even a penny, smiled in satisfaction.
Joshua, trying to sneak out, spotted Seraphine reading a newspaper.
He tried to ignore her—or at least he intended to.
“Joshua, where are you going?”
“Huh? To meet a friend…”
“A friend? Who?”
Even though he’d done nothing wrong, a chill ran down his spine.
Seemingly unaware of his reaction, Seraphine put down the newspaper.
“Well, there is someone. You probably wouldn’t understand even if I told you.”
“Really? But I want to ask you something.”
“What is it?”
“Is it common for players to commit murder during a match?”
“Very rarely. It doesn’t happen often. But emotions run high in a fight. Accidents can happen.”
Whether Joshua’s desperate explanation worked or not, Seraphine merely nodded once, then folded the newspaper.
‘Still strange.’
After returning home yesterday feeling uneasy, she had dug into things. She found evidence suggesting Cesed had rigged matches.
Winning matches that should have been lost, or losing ones that should have been won.
In these matches, winners either killed or nearly killed their opponents.
It didn’t happen often, but the damage was severe. People burdened by massive debts from a single match either spent their lives repaying them—or chose suicide.
Not officially recorded, but many must have died during the matches.
“Are we going there again today?”
Seraphine gestured for Joshua to follow.
“You mean… seriously, you’re going there?”
“Of course.”
“You’re really going to buy someone?”
“Did you think I was joking? I don’t make jokes like that.”
Joshua silently vowed that if he could turn back time, he would never go to the arena with Seraphine. He would have wandered the city quietly instead.
“Is that the type of man you like? I don’t think so! I know plenty of similar-looking people. Oh! Should I introduce someone I know?”
What on earth…
Seraphine looked at Joshua in disbelief.
“If you meet the person I introduce, you don’t even have to spend a lot of money…”
“What are you two talking about?”
“Ah!”
Erez suddenly stepped between them. Joshua shivered.
“You’re overreacting.”
“Well, he snuck up silently and started talking! Make your presence known!”
Joshua seemed incapable of doing anything bad. Even now, his exaggerated reaction made Erez suspicious.
“They seem to be having an interesting conversation. Are they angry at me?”
“Nothing much. Right?”
“Y-yes! Right.”
When Seraphine intervened, Joshua nodded.
“Brother is going out.”
“I was planning to, but if you two are going, I’ll go along.”
“Huh, brother?”
“Why? Is it only allowed for two and not three?”
Taking the overly serious Erez along would be troublesome. Plus, he didn’t know Seraphine intended to buy someone.
“It’s not impossible, but you’ve been busy with the foundation’s events lately, right? I have a guard, so I don’t want to trouble you.”
“But…”
“You’ve already postponed things to escort me. I’ll play with Joshua, so you continue on your way, Lord Rubia.”
Seraphine deliberately used the formal title ‘Lord’ to emphasize his responsibilities.
Erez looked between the siblings suspiciously. They’d likely cause trouble if left alone.
Still, busy was busy, so Erez stepped back.
‘This doesn’t seem right,’ he thought as he left. Seraphine waved cheerfully.
Once he was gone:
“Let’s go.”
Seraphine said, her smile gone.
Really? Seriously? We’re going like this?
Joshua screamed silently inside. No one listened.
“Oh, Princess Rubia, you’re here.”
Seraphine, Joshua, and Gebu visited the arena, just like yesterday. It was much earlier.
Markel, busy preparing for the match, spotted Seraphine and greeted her with a forced voice.
“Where’s Ben?”
“He’s ready. Please follow me.”
Following Markel, Seraphine came to meet brown-haired Ben.
Ben stood tensely in front of her. Seraphine frowned slightly.
‘It’s not Cesed.’
Even from a distance, she could tell. Normally, he’d be preparing for the next match, yet here he was in a different body.
Two possibilities: Cesed had escaped—or they had secretly removed Cesed.
“My mind has changed.”
“Pardon?”
“Let’s look at a different player instead.”
Seraphine’s tone was firm. They had no right to refuse.
“It’s not a small sum, and I’m spending my own money. Isn’t it natural to inspect thoroughly?”
“Y-yes. I’ll show you another player.”
Flustered, Markel led the way and whispered to his staff so no one could hear.
“The Knuckle is well-hidden, right?”
“Yes, of course.”
As the saying goes: hide the tree in the forest. Staff who had hidden the Knuckle reassured him.
Soon, they stood in front of the player waiting room.
“The players are waiting here. But they may look a little shabby to you…”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Reluctantly, the staff opened the door. Shirtless, the players focused on the visitors.
Seeing two well-groomed nobles, they looked puzzled.
Seraphine calmly scanned the room. Then she spotted the Knuckle rolling in a corner like trash—and froze.
It was Cesed.
