Chapter 50 : The Bet
Chapter 50: The Bet
The white flower placed by the window swayed in the wind.
The Starflower had not borne fruit.
It would have been a lie to say he wasn’t disappointed, but neither was he particularly let down.
A tall boy with black hair and a well-built frame.
Robin organized the belongings in his room one by one.
Books lined up on the shelf, clothes he wore while working as a servant, cleaning tools. They’d all grown familiar and dear to his hands, yet he didn’t pack them into his bag.
Anything that could be exchanged for cash had long been dealt with.
2 gold and 100 silver.
Gold coins were hard to use in most markets, so he had already exchanged them for silver.
Even silver coins wouldn’t be accepted in every shop.
He planned to buy the necessary supplies before leaving and carry the remaining coins with him.
Knock knock.
A knock on the door came with a familiar voice calling for him.
“Robin, the young lady is asking for you.”
“I’ll be right there, Jessie.”
Robin, now dressed in his work uniform, headed toward the training yard.
“Robin, off to sword practice again today?”
“Yes. The young lady’s been very diligent lately.”
“Take it easy. Don’t you think she’s pushing herself too hard?”
“This is my job, after all.”
As he walked through the corridor, he exchanged greetings with the servants he passed.
It had already been seven years since he began living in the household of Baron Tefir.
Robin had proven his ability as a noble’s servant.
He had not only served Imelda personally but also learned the general duties required for managing the estate.
Robin, who enjoyed learning, helped with every odd task without complaint.
As a result, he had earned the trust of many within Baron Tefir’s household.
Vwoom!
In the training yard, Imelda was in the middle of practicing her swordsmanship.
After receiving instruction from Greg and corrections from Robin, it had been quite some time since she had mastered the basics.
Greg never taught anything beyond the fundamentals.
Her current level was more than enough for self-defense, and teaching more would have meant revealing the extent of his own skills.
“Robin, you’re here?”
“You’re up early today.”
“You’re the one who said that if I don’t have the stamina, I might as well carry a club instead of a sword. Whose fault do you think this habit is?”
Imelda, her light brown hair tied back tightly, smiled as she spoke.
Though she gave a playful complaint, her gentle eyes made her look more like a puppy greeting its owner.
It had been seven years since they came to Regiville, and it wasn’t only Robin who had grown.
Imelda, too, had changed beyond recognition.
As everyone had predicted, she had blossomed into a young lady with a gentle face that stirred one’s protective instincts.
“Then shall we begin?”
“Sure.”
“How about we make it a bet today?”
“What kind of bet?”
“The loser has to grant the winner one wish!”
“Is there anything I could possibly do for you, my lady? I’m your personal servant—if you need something, you can just ask. Helping you is my job.”
“That’s boring. Besides, there’s something I want to ask you—not as a servant, but as a friend.”
“Now you’ve made me curious. What kind of request could that be?”
“So, are we doing it or not?”
Robin nodded in agreement.
Imelda’s expression hardened as she steeled herself with determination.
To her, it was probably a solemn moment, but to Robin, she was simply an adorable younger sister.
“Are Lady Imelda and Robin sparring again? How many times has it been now?”
“They probably don’t even know themselves. Every chance they get, they’re crossing swords—must’ve been over a thousand times by now.”
“Right. Think Robin will win again?”
The guards who had been training gathered around Robin and Imelda.
Forming a loose ring like a coliseum wall, they waited with eager expressions for the duel to begin.
Clack.
Both Robin and Imelda raised their wooden swords.
Having fought each other hundreds, even thousands of times, they needed no signal to begin.
Hah!
Imelda kicked off the ground and charged first.
Her wooden sword, raised above her right shoulder, thrust toward his collarbone.
An Ox stance thrust. She’s been practicing well—just like I taught her.
Robin didn’t block it; he sidestepped instead.
The wooden sword that had missed its mark sliced diagonally across.
Tak!
The two wooden swords clashed, ringing out a solid sound.
Imelda took a step back, then launched another attack.
A vertical slash, a horizontal cut, a thrust, then a feint.
The watching guards let out gasps of admiration.
“Wow~ Lady Imelda’s swordsmanship’s that good now?”
“Her skill improves every time I see her. Sir Greg taught her well.”
As the guards said, Imelda’s swordsmanship had grown remarkably.
She could probably take on any guard here and not lose.
Even Robin was impressed.
She’s been training harder than usual lately—and it’s paid off.
Yet despite all that, Robin had never once allowed Imelda to land a hit on him.
He dodged, blocked, deflected—over and over again.
At a glance, it looked like Imelda was pressing the offensive, but in truth, the situation was the complete opposite.
A hint of impatience crept across Imelda’s face.
“Ugh… I’m putting this much into it—can’t you at least let me hit you once?”
“That would be fine too, but this is a bet, remember? Once it’s over, I’ll let you hit me ten times if you want.”
“Hmph! Forget it!”
Perhaps his words got under her skin, because for an instant, Imelda’s grip faltered.
Robin was not one to miss such an opening.
Just as he was about to lightly tap her wrist, like a teacher correcting a student’s form—
Imelda’s lips curved upward slightly.
No way…
She released her left hand from the handle of the sword she held in both hands.
Robin’s thrust narrowly missed.
What had been a minimal, corrective strike during sparring had just been turned against him.
“Got you.”
Imelda smiled brightly, confident of her victory.
Robin’s attack had failed, and her wooden sword was closing in.
Anyone watching would have thought Imelda had won.
Thunk.
Before her sword could reach Robin’s neck, it suddenly veered off course.
Robin had merely brushed his hand against the back of her sword—and its path changed.
“What the—?”
Imelda was startled, but she didn’t lose focus.
Spar as if it were real combat. Never give up, no matter what happens.
Robin’s advice had ingrained that instinct deep within her body.
She quickly swung her sword horizontally, but Robin ducked and slipped inside her guard.
The tip of his wooden sword touched her stomach.
“I win.”
“That was—what even was that just now! You just tapped my sword, and it went off in a completely different direction!”
“I calculated the timing of your swing and touched the point where your strength was focused. Didn’t expect to have to show you that one, but now I can rest easy.”
“Ugh… do it again! Pulling out a move I’ve never seen before—that’s cheating!”
“Sure. Now that you’ve seen it once, figure out how to counter it yourself.”
Imelda attacked again but lost narrowly once more.
The guards who had been watching burst into applause.
There weren’t many in Regiville who could match either of their swords.
The applause was filled with respect, though Imelda couldn’t have cared less about that.
“Again!”
In the third bout, Imelda almost won.
Robin had offered a genuine compliment, but Imelda’s expression showed no smile.
Normally, she would have grinned brightly and basked in the moment, yet this time she challenged Robin again.
The fourth, the fifth…
Each one ended with Imelda losing by a hair’s breadth.
Their skills were evenly matched, but perhaps luck simply wasn’t on Imelda’s side today.
The guards who had been watching with interest began leaving one by one.
By the time their twentieth spar ended, only Robin and Imelda remained in the training yard.
Robin had won every single match.
“This is strange today. Is it because of the bet? Just tell me—if I refuse your request, I’m disqualified as your personal servant, right?”
“…Again.”
“Let’s eat lunch first. We’ll eat and then go again with more energy.”
Robin reached out his hand toward Imelda, who sat on the dirt floor.
Smack!
Imelda slapped Robin’s hand away roughly.
It was the first time.
Robin’s eyes widened—Imelda had never refused his kindness before.
“That’s an order. Again.”
It was the first time she had ever used the word order, or shown such a forceful attitude.
Robin tried to think if he had done something wrong, but he couldn’t find the reason.
A servant’s basic duty was to obey the one they served.
Just as Imelda said, Robin picked up his wooden sword.
Whack.
The twenty-first bout. Imelda’s wooden sword struck Robin’s arm.
He grimaced, enduring the pain as the sword slipped from his grasp.
“Ow, ow… I lost.”
“You think this is funny? You think I don’t know when you’re pretending?”
Robin flinched at her angry voice.
The guards who had returned after lunch glanced uneasily at one another before quietly leaving the yard again.
“Stop fooling around and do it properly. I don’t need your pity.”
“All right.”
The spar continued.
It was only when the setting sun painted the training yard crimson that Imelda finally stopped.
“My lady… what’s really going on today? If I’ve done something wrong, please tell me.”
He sat down beside her, trying to talk, but Imelda silently walked out of the yard.
Robin couldn’t bring himself to stop her—her lips were pressed tightly together to keep from crying.
“What in the world…”
Robin looked up at the sky, utterly confused.
He was facing the greatest crisis since coming to work for Baron Tefir’s household.
He gathered the wooden swords scattered around the yard and returned to his quarters, pondering how he might calm Imelda’s anger.
Baron Tefir’s territory, Stillwater.
A small town built by those who made their living primarily from agriculture.
Thanks to the fertile land along the river, it enjoyed bountiful harvests every year.
It served as the main supplier of food for Regiville.
Baron Tefir regularly visited Stillwater to ensure there were no issues.
After checking on the farmers’ conditions, he settled into the finest inn in town.
“Thank you for your hard work, my lord.”
“You’ve all worked hard as well.”
“At this hour, where are you headed?”
“Where else would I go when I come here?”
“You’re going to the bookstore, then. I’ll accompany you.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
The guards followed behind Baron Tefir.
For the baron, it was something he looked forward to.
As a lover of books, the local bookstore was like a playground to him.
Leaving the guards outside, the baron opened the door alone.
Creak.
The ungreased hinges groaned as the door opened, and the smell of old paper wafted out.
The bookstore owner didn’t even glance up at the entering customer.
Baron Tefir, unconcerned, stepped further inside.
At a table prepared for tea sat a man wearing a straw hat.
The man removed the hat and placed it on the table before speaking.
“The scent of books whispers—the heat of a staff hidden behind the wall scroll.”
Baron Tefir flinched slightly as the man continued.
“How beautiful is the flutter of the night’s wings trembling at dawn.”
“…A poem with resonance. Was there a reading club held here?”
“Don’t play dumb, Andrew Tefir. I know why I’m here.”
The baron’s eyes flicked toward the entrance.
The bookstore owner was gone.
There shouldn’t have been any contact from above for a while. Who is this man?
Baron Tefir—Andrew—sat down across from the stranger.
Was the man merely testing him, or did he truly know who he was?
Before Andrew could speak, the man beat him to it.
“Have you ever wondered why people are born into predetermined ranks?”
“Who hasn’t? Everyone’s thought about that at least once.”
“Ho, so even a noble lord is no exception.”
“And who are you to speak to me so casually? I am Baron Tefir, master of this city. You don’t seem to be a noble yourself. If you have no good reason for this insolence, I won’t overlook it.”
“Curious who I am? I’m this kind of man.”
The man in the straw hat took an emblem from his coat and placed it on the table.
An eagle—the symbol of the Imperial Army—with a star engraved above it.
It was an insignia that represented power within the military, yet something was off.
Red lines were drawn across both of the eagle’s wings.
“You… you’re not a rebel, are you?”
“That’s right. The Hand of Liberation.”
The Hand of Liberation.
A secret organization plotting the overthrow of the Empire.
Its existence was uncertain—dismissed by most as an urban legend.
But Andrew knew. The Hand of Liberation was real, and even now waged unseen wars in the shadows.
Because he himself was one of them.
But something’s off. Our cells are independent—we don’t even know each other’s faces. So how does he know me?
Two possibilities.
Either the man held a high enough rank within the Hand of Liberation to access information on other members—
Or…
He’s an Imperial spy hunting down dissidents.
Andrew finished his thought.
Whether the man was truly a comrade or an agent tracking him, the proper response was the same.
“You claim to be part of the Hand of Liberation in front of a noble? Madness. I’ll have you arrested immediately.”
He would deny it first and observe the situation.
If the man truly belonged to the Hand, he’d release him. If not, Andrew could at least avoid suspicion.
This town was within Baron Tefir’s domain, under his control.
Andrew watched the man’s reaction.
Despite his words, the stranger remained calm and composed.
“I told you, I already know everything.”
“If you’ve something to say, save it for the interrogation room. Guards!”
Andrew shot to his feet and shouted toward the door.
His loyal guards should have rushed in at once—but no one came.
Heh.
The man chuckled softly and looked Andrew straight in the eyes.
“Don’t do that. Just hear me out.”
“What did you do?”
“Well, if you agree to talk, I’ll tell you. For now, sit down, Andrew Tefir.”
Ignoring the man’s words, Andrew strode toward the door.
He had no intention of being led around by someone he didn’t even know.
Clack.
As the door opened, a cool breeze brushed past his eyes.
“What on earth…”
All four guards lay unconscious outside.
“How about now? Do you feel like talking?”
Andrew swallowed hard.
He couldn’t shake the thought that this night might be his last.