Arc-5 Ch-9

 Several seconds after a tremendous impact sound, a cloud of dust rose, and the gust of wind reached even the VIP room.

I didn’t understand what had happened.

To my eyes, it looked like the black armor piloted by Leon charged with ferocious momentum at the white armor controlled by His Highness Julius, but the details were unclear.

“Got him.”-

Turning around, I saw Chris with a bitter expression, muttering words that could be taken as both praise and lament. No, it wasn’t just Chris. Jilk, Greg, and Brad were also either grimacing or keeping their mouths shut.

To these heroes, seated at heights unreachable by ordinary people, the outcome of this duel must have been clear.

“Only a thoughtless idiot or a madman who thinks they can pull it off would come up with something that reckless.”

“How much of this was his calculation? From start to finish, Leon Bartfort was completely toying with Julius.”

“Let’s hold off on judging the duel’s outcome for now. We need to confirm His Highness’s safety first."

Everyone was so captivated by the battle between Leon and Julius that they couldn’t tear their eyes away, but the words of the four finally snapped them back to reality. The two armors, now collapsed on the ground, had completely ceased functioning.

If the armor’s exterior was damaged and the pilots couldn’t exit the cockpit, immediate action was necessary. If the two in the cockpits were injured, any delay in medical treatment could be critical.

A mock battle involving royalty was already an extraordinary event. If the prince were injured, it would become a matter of responsibility for the Bartfort family.

It would take a few hundred seconds to walk to the armors from here, but running would take mere tens of seconds. My father-in-law, brother-in-law, and Colin hurriedly dashed toward the armors.

I entrusted Lionel and Ariel to mother-in-law and headed toward the armors as well. From the spectator seats, people from the Bartfort territory and those directly under the royal family cautiously approached.

“What did Leon do at the end?”

To distract myself from my anxiety, I asked the four walking beside me. I had seen duels between armors in the capital and watched soldiers train with them here, but I had no memory of a fight this intense.

“It looked like Bartfort’s armor tried to snatch the rod from Julius’s armor. But he couldn’t stop his charge’s momentum and crashed into him.”

“No, that was probably a weapon-seizing technique from martial arts. There’s a similar move in swordsmanship to disarm an opponent.”

“Trying to replicate such a technique with armor? That’s far too absurd, by common sense.”

“Judging him by common sense is dangerous. This duel made that abundantly clear, didn’t it?”

“It’s hard to judge who won. It looked almost like a mutual defeat.”

“Bartfort tried to take His Highness’s weapon. Even if it’s deemed a foul, no one would object.”

“There’s no rule in the duel conditions that says ‘stealing the opponent’s rod to pop their balloon is forbidden.’ Nor is there one saying ‘popping your own balloon is prohibited.’”

“That’s because no one would even consider doing such a thing!”

“But Bartfort pulled it off, and that’s what matters.”

“…When dealing with him, we need to account for every possible scenario.”

I hadn’t even realized Leon was capable of such acrobatic techniques. Not only the soldiers training here but even the Bartfort family must have been unaware of this.

Pretending to be ordinary while constantly honing strategies and skills. How many years did he spend mastering such techniques?

If all of Leon’s humble, almost self-deprecating attitude up until now was a facade… The Leon I thought I knew might not be his true self.

I always interpret things in a way that suits me. I never even suspected that Leon might be someone who hides things. That realization terrifies me.

The armors we finally reached showed no signs of movement, like metal statues. Were the two in the cockpits unconscious? Or were they so exhausted they couldn’t move? It was impossible to tell.

At a glance, there were no traces of smoke or sparks. The most terrifying thing in an armor accident is a fire caused by internal damage, where machine oil or the like ignites and causes an explosion. That didn’t seem to be the case here, but we couldn’t let our guard down.

The men of the Bartfort family, who arrived first, were frantically banging on the cockpits and calling out. At the very least, we needed to confirm their condition. The moment the worst-case scenario crossed my mind, as if on cue, the chest plates of both armors opened, revealing the cockpits.

From the white armor, His Highness Julius emerged, crawling out. From the black armor, Leon did the same .

“I WON!!!”

Leon’s shrill cry echoed into the sky. Everyone present froze, dumbfounded by his sudden outburst. Did he hit his head too hard during the charge?

No, wearing a pilot suit and helmet, it’s unlikely he sustained a brain injury.

“You all saw it, right?! My spectacular piloting! No matter how you look at it, my victory is undeniable!”

“Enough, Bartfort! This fight was a draw, and that’s the truth!”

Leon loudly declared victory, while His Highness Julius rebuked him. While we were worried sick, they continued their argument. What is this?

Relief and irritation churned in my stomach.

“No matter how you look at it, I popped His Highness’s balloon first! So it’s my win!”

“You may have hit my head, but not my torso! Your charge made it happen simultaneously! It’s a draw!”

“Why can’t you just admit defeat? Accepting your mistakes gracefully is a quality a royal should have!”

“I didn’t lose! I’m just demanding a fair judgment!”

“Fine! Hey, Colin! Whose attack landed first?!”

“Uh?! …W-Well, maybe it looked like… it felt like… Big Brother’s was faster, I think…”

“See?! I win!!”

“No way I’m accepting that! Your brother’s the referee! Of course he’d rule in your favor!”

“Ha! You’re just a sore loser!”

“Alright then! Let’s settle this with fists!”

“Bring it on! In a sacred duel, rank doesn’t matter, you idiot prince!”

“You’re the one who should be ready! I don’t need the royal family’s power to crush a country bumpkin like you!”

The two, who had just been piloting their armors with advanced techniques, were now engaged in a pathetic shouting match. While everyone around stood stunned, the two, burning with fighting spirit, leapt to the ground and charged at each other.

*THUD!!*

A dull sound that made you want to cover your ears echoed across the plain.

Julius’s fist sank into Leon’s cheek, and Leon’s fist buried itself in Julius’s stomach. Still in the stance of being struck, both raised their other arms.

*CRACK! THUD!*

Leon landed a hit on Julius’s jaw, and Julius struck Leon’s chest in retaliation. They exchanged another blow, then another, taking turns pummeling each other. Then, Leon grabbed Julius’s fist and fell to the ground.

Just as it seemed the fight was over, they rolled across the dirt, trading headbutts and joint locks. In this utterly ridiculous scene, as the soldiers looked on in exasperation, the Bartfort family and the four finally regained their senses and forcibly pulled Leon and Julius apart.

“Let me go, you guys! I’ll show that idiot prince who’s boss!”

“Stop it, Leon!”

“Do you even realize who you’re fighting?!”

“He’s the one who started it! I’m just giving him what he asked for, with interest!”

“Don’t give him anything!”

“Don’t stop me, you lot! This is between me and him!”

“No, we *have* to stop you in this case.”

“Please look around and calm down. Your current behavior is hardly befitting royalty.”

“I’m just giving my all as a man!”

“Even so, there’s a limit!”

“If you go too far and injure him, it defeats the purpose!”

Watching my husband and the prince brawl, forgetting their original purpose, filled me with a burning anger. What are you two doing?

Is it so fun to cling to your pointless pride and keep up this absurd fight?

Shouldn’t we be working together for the future of this kingdom, finding effective solutions?

Instead, you’re wasting time and effort exposing your shameful behavior through violence. Before I realized it, I was standing between the two, who were being restrained. If these two idiots are fighting, what’s wrong with me acting like an idiot too?

I aligned the fingers of my left hand, bent them slightly, and without adding momentum, twisted my wrist to deliver a firm slap.

*SMACK!*

A sharp sound rang out, and my handprint was etched onto His Highness Julius’s cheek. The five idiots stood there, mouths agape, stunned by the unexpected turn of events. Next, I bent my right hand’s fingers in order—pinky, ring, middle, index—and gripped them tightly with my thumb.

I gently raise my arm, angling it slightly upward, accelerating, and twisting my fist downward with full force from the shoulder.

THUD!!

A heavy, dull impact echoes, and Leon’s head slumps limply. The full-force punch I delivered precisely to his jaw is proof that I knocked him out.

“That’s enough of this nonsense.”

No one objects. Thus, the duel—framed as a mock battle between the First Prince and a local lord—comes to a close. Truly, what a foolish display of male pride and wasted effort.

※ ※ ※ ※ ※

The sunlight streaming through the hangar’s window feels warm, lulling me toward sleep. It’d be blissful to drift off like this, but as the nominal person in charge, I have a duty to see things through.

After Angie knocked me out with that punch, I woke up in the hangar. Apparently, while I was unconscious, Angie took control of the situation. She’s such a capable wife—sometimes I feel I don’t deserve her.

The plan was for me to lead the closing ceremony for the joint training, but Dad and Big Bro stepped in for me. By the time I came to, everything was over. All that’s left is a battered me and a thoroughly wrecked armor.

We fought so fiercely, yet His Highness’s armor only needs minor maintenance. My Arrogantz, though, is in such bad shape it requires extensive repairs.

Sorry, Arrogantz.

Even if I’d used another mass-produced armor, the outcome would’ve been the same. It’s a miracle I lasted against His Highness at all. The armors stored in the hangar and the busy mechanics fixing them seem to be silently judging me. I wish they’d let me rest in the barracks instead.

A soldier tending to me said the barracks were too crowded, so they brought me here. Since that report, no one’s spoken to me. It’s lonely. Empty. I know I’m a subpar lord, but this whole ordeal has left my heart exhausted. I tried to win over the capital’s nobles, tilt things in our favor, and show off to my family—only to fail spectacularly.

I did everything I could, but I lost the fight, wrecked expensive equipment, got treated like a pariah by my subordinates, and—oh—turns out the work went fine without me.

There’s no point to me being here. If anything, I’m a nuisance. I slip out of the hangar like I’m fleeing. A few steps out, dizziness hits. No nausea, but my body feels drained. The more I try to move, the heavier I feel. I lean against the corridor wall and slide down to sit.

The coolness of the wall and floor soothes my overheated body.

It’d be more comfortable to strip off the pilot suit and lie down, but getting caught like that would be humiliating. Being a noble is so far from freedom. I’ll never understand why so many people aspire to it. My body craves rest. Too much has happened.

Yesterday, I oversaw the training field preparations. This morning, I managed the joint training. Then came the armor duel and a fistfight. It’d be weird if I weren’t exhausted. My strength ebbs, and I can’t even stand.

Just a short rest, and I’ll be fine. Telling myself that, I close my eyes. A cool, hard sensation brushes my cheek. Before I realize it’s the floor, I slip into sleep.

How long did I sleep? My sense of time is hazy. It feels like an hour, yet also like I overslept a whole night. The only certainty is my body still craves rest. I know if I let go, I’ll fall back asleep, but something nags at me. My position feels off from when I passed out.

I collapsed sideways, but now I’m on my back. There’s a soft, warm sensation under my head and neck. Moving my neck slightly, it bounces against something pleasantly elastic, warm enough to comfort my chilled body.

I’d love to sleep more, but I need to assess the situation first. Opening my eyes, a large, white, rounded shape fills my vision. It looks soft, smells nice, and I know it very well. Since becoming a noble, I’ve had more social encounters and seen plenty of these, but there’s only one I can recognize.

Crimson eyes peer down at my face.

“…What are you doing?”

My voice comes out blatantly grumpy.

I’m sleepy, sore, and exhausted, so my responses are inevitably curt. I know it’s bad, but I can’t control my emotions. The domain, the title, the royal house, the ducal house—let them all go to hell. Even family can take a hike.

Nothing in this world bends to my will. No matter how hard I try, I can’t match those born into great houses or blessed with genius talent. Everything I do fails, and no matter how I struggle, it’s all for nothing. I’m sick of this life. Please, just leave me alone.

“I was watching your sleeping face. Looking at you like this, you seem so young. Quite adorable, really.”

“That’s not what I mean. What are you doing in a place like this?”

“When I came to check on you and found you collapsed, I panicked. But when I got closer, you were just sleeping, so I relaxed.”

“Please, just leave me alone. I’m so worn out, I’ve got no sweat or blood left to give.”

“Then rest. I’ll stay by your side until you sleep.”

I want to argue, but I lack the energy. My consciousness is foggy, the line between dream and reality blurred. Even if I wanted to escape, my exhausted body craves sleep and barely moves.

Angie watches me with amusement. I don’t get it. There’s nothing fun about bothering me.

“Please, leave me be. You’d be better off working than fussing over me.”

“Everything’s handled. I’ve left the coordination to Father-in-law and Brother-in-law.”

“Then go to the kids. Lionel and Ariel must be lonely without their mom.”

“I entrusted them to Mother-in-law. There’s no oversight, so just behave and rest.”

She’s covered everything, huh? Having such a capable wife is a double-edged sword. She’s blocked every escape route, and I can’t beat her with words or strength.

Realizing escape is futile, I relax, and Angie strokes my face. Normally, she pushes me away when I get clingy, but today she’s unusually affectionate. Is this how I usually am with her? I’ll tone it down in the future.

“Why do you look so amused?”

“Because it’s fun. A vulnerable Leon is rare.”

“I’m always the clingy one, aren’t I?”

“Yet when you’re down, you want to be alone. You’re such a high-maintenance husband.”

“Sorry about that.”

I’m genuinely exhausted and definitely down. But a man’s pride is not showing that side to the woman he loves. Let’s set aside how I usually lean on Angie. She seems to find my reactions endlessly entertaining.

Annoyed, I turn my face away, but she grabs my chin and forces it back. I don’t resist, and her face draws closer. She’s as beautiful as ever, I think idly—then she kisses me.

Angie is bold today. Even if I wanted to resist, her assertiveness and intensity overwhelm me.

“…What’s with you all of a sudden?”

“I told you before the duel. If you won, I’d kiss you.”

“I didn’t win. If anything, I lost.”

“No one who watched that fight thinks you’re the loser.”

“His Highness was mimicking my armor’s moves by the end. In the fistfight, he landed twice as many hits. No matter how you look at it, I lost.”

“Did he? You countered pretty well.”

“I was just enduring with grit. The hardest hit was your punch, though.”

“…It’s your fault for acting like an idiot. I had to clean up your mess. Even getting you and the armor to the hangar was thanks to Brother-in-law and Father-in-law.”

“The mechanics fixing the armor didn’t even talk to me. They definitely hate me.”

“They’re just intimidated. Everyone’s praising your effort.”

“But I didn’t win.”

“…Why did you start a fistfight with His Highness?”

“His pretty face pissed me off. If he’d just admitted I won, I could’ve brushed it off.”

“You wanted to beat him that badly?”

“Yeah.”

I’ve been training to pilot armors for years. Not just drills, but real battles—somehow making it work. I knew I couldn’t win head-on, so I rigged a “fair” fight with identical mass-produced armors. I prepared the field the day before and used every trick I had.

And still, I couldn’t beat His Highness Julius. If I’d been by Angie’s side back at the academy, could I have won?

That pipe dream was shattered to pieces. A commoner can’t beat a genius. No matter how hard I try, some walls are too high. The cruel reality stings.

Angie’s face blurs, hard to see. Then I realize something’s spilling from my eyes. So, losing hurt this much. I’m a bit surprised at myself for crying.

“Don’t cry.”

“I’m not crying.”

“Alright.”

“Yeah.”

“Winning or losing is trivial. You fought with everything you had. That’s what matters to me.”

“Losing makes it meaningless. I talked big and ended up looking pathetic.”

“I think you’re an incredible man, from the bottom of my heart. Isn’t that enough?”

“I’d like the kids to think so too.”

“Greedy, aren’t you?”

Angie’s voice is gentle. It only makes me feel more pathetic. Seems the goddess of victory really hates me. She won’t let me win—but takes pleasure in comforting me after a loss. What a twisted personality.

To hell with it. I’ll sulk and sleep.

“I’m exhausted. Sleepy.”

“You’ve been through too much these past few days. Rest well.”

Angie and the others were kidnapped. I flew all night to rescue them, then held meetings, and finally fought in that duel. Yeah, I did pretty damn well. Praising myself shouldn’t bring divine punishment.

Relief washes over me, followed by a fierce wave of drowsiness. Feeling the softness of Angie’s body, I close my eyes, and my consciousness fades.

※ ※ ※ ※ ※

The room is enveloped in silence. It’s a private parlor in a luxurious inn where the Roseblade family is staying—built at Angelica’s request for discreet conversations among high-ranking nobles and the wealthy.

Thanks to Leon collapsing, my meeting with Dorothea has been endlessly delayed. Causing a spectacle and leaving me to clean up the mess—since childhood, it’s always been me.

I’ve got plenty of complaints, but I know the Bartfort family’s revival is thanks to Leon. It’s only natural that Dad and I cover for his screw-ups.

That doesn’t mean I’m okay with everything. I’ve got my own plans, you know. The only other person in the room, Dorothea, has been silent the whole time. Since yesterday, she’s been blatantly avoiding me.

And it’s my fault—because I slept with her. I’m not making excuses—it’s completely on me. Sure, I was still high from fighting sky pirates, and the alcohol dulled my judgment, but I’m the one who did it.

Even if she came to my room that night, I could’ve pushed her away if I’d really tried. But I didn’t—because I couldn’t control my emotions. Because I do have feelings for her. At least a little.

It’s not some pathetic “I fell in love after sleeping with her” nonsense. At least, I hope not. I want to believe that—but honestly, I’m not confident.

Dorothea remains silent. I don’t know how to start this conversation. I begged Count Roseblade to arrange this meeting, but if we just sit in silence, nothing’s going to change.

Apparently, Dorothea hasn’t told the count what happened between us. Understandable—what noble lady would admit she gave herself to her fiancé outside of marriage?

In that case, it’s the man’s job to take responsibility. Some scummy nobles slip sleeping pills or aphrodisiacs to force a marriage, but Dorothea doesn’t strike me as that type.

In fact, Deidere-san told me Dorothea might break off the engagement to distance herself from me. Just when I finally realized my feelings for her... losing her now would be devastating. I can’t let that happen. Otherwise, I’ll end up a bachelor for life.

“Um, Dorothea-san?”

“…”

“I want you to be my wife.”

“…”

“This is all my fault. If I’d gone to the Roseblade domain, you wouldn’t have been kidnapped. If I’d turned you away that night, this wouldn’t have happened. That’s why I think the best way to take responsibility is to marry you.”

“…”

“Dorothea, can you hear me?”

She’s been completely spaced out, staring at her tea. Normally, she’d talk my ear off. Now, she’s like a shell of herself. It’s like I’ve hurt her so deeply, she can’t even react anymore.

Realizing I’m the one who pushed her to this… it guts me. Is it hopeless? Really hopeless? I thought marriage was the easiest solution, but maybe that was just a selfish excuse.

All I can do now is apologize—truly. I move toward her, but she flinches. She’s afraid of me. That alone makes me feel like a monster. I kneel, lower my head to the floor, and beg.

“I’m so sorry. You have every right to hate me. I’ll renounce the barony I’m set to inherit. I’ll accept any punishment—even criminal charges. I’ll pay compensation for the rest of my life.”

What else can I offer?

I rack my brain, but that’s all I’ve got? No matter how much the count demands, I’ll take it all on so Leon and the others don’t get dragged into this.

“…Nicks-sama, please raise your head.”

Finally, Dorothea speaks. Just hearing her voice feels like salvation. I cautiously lift my head and meet her sad, soft gaze. I can tell this won’t end peacefully.

“I don’t intend to blame you, Nicks-sama. This is all because of my selfishness.”

“…Thank you.”

“But let me ask—are you planning to marry me out of guilt or duty?”

That question hits hard. Noble marriages are rarely about love. They’re business transactions. Dad was forced to marry Zora. Leon married Angie as part of the ducal house’s plan.

My engagement to Dorothea was the result of political games among the kingdom’s nobles. For people like us, love is a fairy tale. Still… I knew Dorothea genuinely cared for me. And I didn’t mind being admired by such a beautiful woman. But after what happened, everything feels twisted.

“So, after thinking it through… I just want to do whatever you wish.”

“In other words, you’ll marry me because I want it? If my family’s rank were higher, would you marry anyone?”

I can’t answer right away. It’s true—our engagement happened because of our family statuses. As the son of a baron, I didn’t have the power to refuse the Roseblade count’s offer. I could try rising in rank—but unlike Leon, I’m not talented enough for promotion.

“I love you, Nicks-sama. I’d rather enter a temple and live unmarried than marry anyone else.”

“You don’t need to go that far. The count would stop you.”

“Then will you love me? Are you prepared for that?”

She’s pressing hard. And honestly, it’s terrifying. But it also pulls me in. I’m certain—if I let her go, no other woman will ever reach me like she does.

“I’m not asking to be your main wife. If you love me, I’d be happy even as a mistress. If you don’t, then the title of ‘wife’ is meaningless. If I can’t be loved by you, I’d rather end the engagement.”

“Why go so far?”

“I don’t know. I don’t understand it myself. I truly love you, Nicks-sama. If you don’t love me… I don’t want to live.”

Dorothea steps down from her chair and looks up at me, her eyes shimmering with tears.

“Do you dislike older women? If I’m too clingy, I’ll step back. Just let me stay near you. I’ll become the woman you want. Please… love me.”

Her desperate plea is heartbreaking. If I leave her like this, she might do something she can’t take back. I scramble to find the right words—but instead, I wrap my arms around her.

She trembles but doesn’t pull away. I hold her tight. She blushes and looks up at me. This woman, two years older, suddenly feels like a fragile girl. All my fear—of her obsession, of political fallout—vanishes.

I just want to ease her pain. I lean in and kiss her. She melts in my arms. I don’t know how long we kissed. Ten seconds? Thirty? Maybe more.

When I finally pull away, she doesn’t respond.

“Dorothea?”

She’s gone limp. I shake her gently. Nothing. I press two fingers to her throat—breathing and pulse are steady. She fainted. Panicking, I throw open the door—and right there is a woman with curled blonde hair, arms crossed.

“What in the world is going on?!”

“Call a doctor! Dorothea fainted!”

In the end, I got interrogated until late at night and had to stay at the inn. The next morning, back at the mansion, I told my worried parents that Dorothea and I were getting married. The whole household celebrated… but Mother’s eyes were a bit cold..

┳⁠━━━━⁠━⁠⁠━⁠━⁠━━━⁠┳⁠

Authors Note

┻━⁠━━━━⁠━━⁠━━━⁠┻

The duel between Leon and Julius concludes in this chapter.

Unlike Volume 12 of the original novel, in this version, their fistfight serves as a rite of passage to become friends with Julius, and finally, Leon has become close with the "Five Idiots." (The "if you’ve fought one-on-one, you’re friends" theory.)

As for the outcome, this is my personal speculation on how much of a gap there might be between a mob character and a capture target if they competed without Luxion or doping—unlike in the original story. (That high wall between mob characters and the capture targets...) The engagement between Brother Nicks and Dorothea is a soothing development. The next chapter will be the Part 5 epilogue, focusing on the married couple and the Five Idiots.

Postscript:

As per the client’s request, the illustration for this chapter was drawn by Araku-sama, and the cosplay illustration of Ange was drawn by Haerge-sama. Thank you very much.

Araku-sama: Pixiv

Haerge-sama: Pixiv

I’d love to hear your thoughts and impressions, as they would be a great encouragement for future work..