Chapter 102: The Sacred Competition (3)

I sat beside Istina.

There was no trace of awkwardness in our conversation with Bishop Paul—it flowed naturally.

“The Saint has brought along an interesting young man.”

Nobu spoke first, taking a sip of the steaming tea in front of him.

Up close, he gave off an even more solemn and taciturn air.

“Right? I find myself surprised every time I see him,”

Istina said as she stared intently at my arm, which I still hadn’t lowered my sleeve over.

“Thanks to him, I was glad to have a deep conversation about landscaping for the first time in a while.”

“It was the same for me. I was inspired by an elder with such profound knowledge.”

Paul wore a faint smile on his lips.

Then, as if offering a reward for going along with his tempo, he quickly cut to the heart of the matter.

“This fine young man can’t have come just to help me with my garden work… Saint Istina, what brings you here with him?”

Now it was the Saint’s turn to play her part.

She wasn’t just a devout believer—she was a natural-born politician.

“Do you remember the conversation we had a few days ago after the bishops’ meeting? About Julius Roger, the new head of the foundation?”

She clearly steered the conversation toward the main issue.

“Ah, yes. I remember. You said he was a very devout and capable hotelier.”

“The man you see before you is him.”

Upon hearing that, Nobu nodded with genuine interest.

“I see. No wonder he’s so knowledgeable about landscaping.”

“Yes. We had a bit of free time before meeting the Archbishop, so we stopped by.”

Istina held her teacup with both hands, respectfully.

Then, as if to show off, she lifted it slightly and smiled like a graceful lady.

“The bishop’s tea is the best, after all.”

Nobu responded with a kind expression, like a father looking at his daughter.

But I looked at her with a strange expression—like a fox living high in the mountains.

‘The meeting with the Archbishop was two days from now, wasn’t it…?’

Istina, perhaps sensing my gaze, brought one finger to her lips.

As if to say, shh.

Such a cute lie for a saint.

Well, strictly speaking, it wasn’t a lie.

She never said when we’d be meeting the Archbishop.

She simply glossed over it with a tone that made it sound like we had stopped by briefly before today's supposed meeting.

This kind of playful deception was something only a beautiful woman like the Saint could pull off.

“I see. Then since you're already here, please feel free to relax and stay awhile.”

Nobu took another sip of his tea and replied positively.

However—

Just because the conversation flowed naturally didn’t mean the Saint had won over his favor.

“……”

Not yet.

We were still a long way from that.

To gain his support, we’d need to grant him even more grace.

And for that, information was essential.

With narrowed eyes, I quickly scanned the antique garden.

Then, the first thing that caught my eye was an old rapier leaning beside a weathered statue.

Its grip was stained with age, and the blade tip was worn blunt.

The moment I laid eyes on that shabby sword, I quickly drew several conclusions.

“By the way, earlier I noticed Sir Roger seems to be quite strong. Were you once a soldier?”

“If you mean the scar on my forearm, then no.”

Only then did I slowly lower the cuff of my dress shirt.

“I’m also a former knight cadet, just like your daughter.”

At the mention of his daughter, Paul’s drooping eyes lit up sharply.

“How did you know my daughter was a cadet...?”

“I saw the rapier placed beside the statue.”

Nobu turned his head toward the old sword.

As his attention shifted, I seized the momentum and continued the conversation.

“That rapier has a thinner grip than the standard models. So, I guessed it might belong to your daughter rather than a man.”

“Is that so? You’ve got a keen eye.”

Paul looked at me with a suspicious gaze.

True to a man who valued job security and the safety of his family, he quickly withdrew his kindness and began questioning in a cold tone.

“But just because the grip is thin doesn’t mean it has to belong to a female knight. A man with small hands could use it too.”

He was testing me, to see whether I had made a lucky guess—or if I had investigated him beforehand.

This test had two purposes.

“Is there a clearer reason you believed it to be my daughter’s, Mr. Roger?”

If I really had investigated him, it meant I had approached with private interests—thus making me a disrespectful man.

If not, then I’d be seen as a reckless youth who threw out baseless assumptions just to force a conversation.

‘Either way, it’s hard to present myself as a competent individual.’

No matter how good my first impression had been with the landscaping, he was a man who drew a strict line between public and private matters.

It was clear he intended to sever the connection right here with cool-headed decisiveness.

So then, what should one do in such a situation?

Surprisingly, the answer was quite simple.

‘All I have to do is ensure the guess I made about his family is perfect.’

“You’re right. I wouldn’t dare say I was certain based on that alone.”

I stood up briefly.

Then, I brought over the worn rapier and pointed to the blade tip.

“That’s why it was only after looking at the blade that I became sure your daughter was the owner.”

By examining a blade, one can tell the gender of its user.

At that, even Bishop Paul—and Istina, too—began showing genuine interest.

“Rapiers are swords specialized for thrusting. That’s why male knights, who primarily use slashing swords, don’t prefer them.”

I carefully showed them his daughter’s sword.

“Even so, since it’s a required subject at the academy, they would’ve had no choice but to learn it. As a result, even male knights would have used a rapier—albeit reluctantly.”

What I pointed to was the blade itself.

The blade was smooth—as if it had never once been used for slashing.

“When someone uses a weapon they’re unfamiliar with, habits from their previous weapon tend to come out. That’s why rapier blades used by male knights often show marks of slashing, which dull the edge.”

“Well, since it’s just a practice sword, they probably didn’t care much.”

Istina supported me smoothly, providing backup with practiced ease.

I nodded in agreement.

“Exactly. However, this rapier shows no signs of slashing at all. Instead, the tip alone is blunt—dully so.”

I gently rested the sword across the tea table.

“At the academy, female knights, being less physically strong than their male counterparts, are trained more often in surprise thrusting techniques, which emphasize their natural flexibility.”

I pressed the tip of the blade with my finger.

The skin depressed, but not a single drop of blood emerged—it was that blunt.

“Learning thrusting techniques typically happens in the intermediate class. Around the age of seventeen, I’d say.”

Bishop Paul silently stared at me as I explained, my voice calm like a babbling brook, and then took a sip of tea.

Then he let out a faint chuckle and nodded in agreement.

“How peculiar. To deduce so much just from looking at a single sword…”

“I only knew because I also attended the Imperial Academy. I was lucky.”

When I mentioned being her senior, Nobu quietly set his teacup back down.

It seemed that only then did he realize my guess hadn’t been a shallow ploy to win his favor.

“That kind of insight doesn’t come from luck. It’s the sort of observation seasoned knights use when they’re seeking out an opponent’s weaknesses.”

“You honor me, Bishop.”

Thanks to that, the atmosphere during tea time grew lighter.

However, Istina didn’t seem to be focusing on the newly brightened mood.

Instead, she stared quietly at me in my dress shirt, as if still surprised to learn I had once been a knight.

“That’s right. My daughter, Sonia, is currently an intermediate-level cadet.”

Wait a second.

Did he just say Sonia...?

Suddenly, I remembered seeing that name in a newspaper article.

The girl who had lost vision in one eye but still proudly passed the Imperial Knight Selection Tournament.

But due to pushing herself too hard in that very match, she ended up having to retire early—even after making it.

‘That’s why the articles about her evoked so much public sympathy.’

And she was Bishop Paul’s daughter?

As soon as I heard her name, the memory came rushing back.

“At seventeen, she must’ve wanted to spend her days having fun, but the dedication in that blade shows how hard she trained.”

No matter how reserved a father may be, few can resist compliments about their beloved daughter.

So I continued the conversation as if I hadn’t recognized her.

“Indeed. She’s truly a remarkable child…”

Nobu wore a wistful expression, as though recalling her.

At that sight, Istina immediately sensed something was off.

After all, when parents receive praise for their child, they either beam with pride—or modestly downplay it, saying the child still has much to learn.

The expression on the old bishop’s face somehow looked clouded with a deep, quiet sorrow.

“Has something troubling happened…?”

“I’ve never spoken about my family at the bishops’ meetings, so the Saint likely didn’t know either.”

Paul set the teacup he had picked up again back down.

“The truth is, my daughter is blind in one eye. And her remaining eye isn’t very strong either, so she usually wears a monocle.”

“That’s unfortunate. May I ask if it’s congenital?”

I asked sincerely, my expression serious.

As a fellow knight, I asked with genuine concern, and the bishop answered honestly, without taking offense.

“Yes. My wife was born blind as well. Sadly, our daughter inherited the condition in full.”

Paul looked like he’d give his own eyes to her if he could.

“Thankfully, she didn’t lose vision in her remaining eye, but in a knight’s line of work, limited field of vision is a fatal weakness.”

“She must be at a disadvantage compared to the other students.”

The bishop exhaled deeply, agreeing with a nod.

“Still, Sonia didn’t give up on her dream. As you can tell just from the rapier.”

‘That’s right—and she even achieved that dream.’

But the path beyond it had been nothing but bleak.

Even though she had officially become a knight of the Imperial Order, she had burned out her entire body in the process—and her career was over before it could begin.

“That’s why I try to support her dream as best I can.”

Nobu smiled warmly.

It was the look of a proud father, watching his child chase a dream.

But that smile couldn’t last.

“Lately, though, something seems to be going on at school. The letters she used to send have started arriving less frequently.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

I chimed in, and Nobu quietly agreed.

“In the last letter, she said she was preparing for a match to be held on the school’s foundation day—and that she’d been assigned the final match.”

“If it’s the final bout, that must be the biggest match of the day. Isn’t that something to be proud of?”

At the Academy, the commemorative matches held on foundation day were quite meaningful.

Especially the final match—it was often attended by senior members of the Imperial Family. It was a prime opportunity to make a name for oneself.

Winning it brought enormous benefits.

But for the loser, the disgrace was just as large—if not greater.

And it seemed the bishop was concerned about the latter.

“I do support her dream, but… with her current level of skill, it’s still hard for her to beat the other knights. She knows that, too. That’s why she has no intention of inviting me.”

“So that’s why the letters stopped coming.”

No doubt, Sonia would grow into a full-fledged knight in a few years.

But in the process, she must’ve constantly pushed herself to the edge of collapse.

And because of that, she experienced rapid growth—while her body fell apart just as quickly.

That meant—if I could help refine her training regimen, I might be able to change the future where she ended up broken.

At the same time, I could win favor with the younger brother of the head of one of the three great noble houses.

“In that case, I’d like to meet her.”

“You would…?”

Paul's eyes widened at the thought of me, a man with no connection to her, wanting to meet his daughter.

Istina was just as surprised.

But my next words left them no room to object.

“Yes. As it happens, my younger sister also attends the academy. They’re in the same year.”

Because my own flesh and blood was in the same class.

“If you’d be willing to do that, I’d be grateful.”

“I’ll check in on her, and let her know her father is worried.”

As I spoke with confidence, Nobu sat up straighter.

Then he reached out his hand to me.

“Please, I’m counting on you. Tell her to start writing again, too.”

“I’ll bring back good news.”

I shook hands with the second son of the Fern family.

Then, I got up from my seat and was even escorted to the door.

Istina let out a soft laugh at how we had entered cautiously, yet were now being sent off with full honors.

She looked up at me with a dazed expression, as if wondering whether I’d used magic.

“Every time I see you, I’m amazed.”

“Amazed by what, exactly?”

I asked as we walked side by side along a narrow path.

Istina simply shook her head.

Then she glanced at my dress shirt—its cuff lowered, but the buttons still unfastened.

“No, it’s nothing. But would you stop for just a moment?”

When I came to a halt, the Saint gently reached out and held my arm with both hands.

Then, she began fastening the shirt cuff buttons herself.

And yet…

I could feel her soft, snow-white fingertips brushing ever so slightly against my wrist.

After that, she deftly buttoned the cuff as though nothing had happened.

“There. It was bothering me all this time.”

“Thank you, Saint.”

I smiled at the graceful, silver-haired woman with my sharp eyes.

Then, I took a step ahead of her.

――――――

Suddenly, I noticed her footsteps slowing behind me.

When I turned my head slowly—

“…?”

I witnessed a strange sight.

Istina, her hood pulled low over her eyes, was holding her fingers to her nose.

“So it was peach.”

In the shadows, her blue eyes shimmered like the depths of the sea.

As if, once you fell in, you'd never escape.

“A sweet scent.”

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