Chapter 14
“Yeah… that’s how it was.”
Aileen murmured bitterly as she recalled what had once been one of the most unforgettable moments in her life.
Just thinking about that day still made her heart race. Never before had someone’s swordsmanship struck her that deeply.
It had been that impactful.
After that encounter, Aileen had put in all her effort to build a rapport with Carlisle. Over time, they became friendly enough to greet each other, and occasionally, she found herself confiding in him—speaking about the wall she felt she couldn’t overcome, slowly letting go of the weight she carried inside.
Then one day, Carlisle had casually said something to her. Just like earlier.
He told her to do things her own way. That it was the answer. And those words had been the push that helped her break free from the slump that had held her back for so long.
“Why are you like this now…?”
Things were different back then. Back then, he was her peer, her friend, and at times, even a mentor.
But now? What was Carlisle’s reason for offering advice?
It wasn’t like her behavior could really affect the Sel Order. That order revolved completely around Carlisle. The knights who admired him were known for being as quiet and disciplined as he was—focused entirely on swordsmanship.
So everything he’d said sounded like nothing more than a hollow excuse.
Then, a terrible thought crept into Aileen’s mind, making her clutch her chest in frustration. She let out a self-deprecating laugh.
“No… there’s no way.”
There was no use entertaining baseless hopes. And it was all his fault anyway.
She swallowed back the rising nausea in her throat.
It was a very, very long night.
The next day, Vendy and his group finally returned. Their injuries hadn’t fully healed—bruises still covered their foreheads, arms, and other parts of their bodies.
“He didn’t even get a good look at the guy’s face, right?”
“All he saw was that he had black hair. Said he was smaller than them too.”
“And they still came back looking like that? Seriously?”
“I heard the guy was actually taller than them, though.”
A few knights nearby were whispering quietly. Vendy probably didn’t hear it, but Aileen, who stood not far from them, caught every word.
How many people in the empire had the skill to take down three of the top fighters in the Imperial Knights all at once? A man with black hair, smaller than Vendy—who was built like a bear.
Aileen forced herself to silence the growing suspicion in her mind.
“What are you looking at?!”
Vendy, clearly irritated by the sideways glances, snapped at the knights around him. Aileen, off to the side inspecting her sword, barely paid him any mind—until he turned toward her.
“Hey, rookie. You see we’re all banged up, right? Looks like you’ll be doing the heavy lifting for a while.”
“……”
“We’re gonna need some help—gear cleaning, carrying things, that kind of stuff.”
The twisted smirk on his face was as sleazy as ever. Aileen didn’t answer. Instead, she ran a hand over her forehead.
If they were going to play it like this, she wouldn’t be able to wait for Cylas or Siran to return.
And even if she agreed to spar with them, they were injured. Beating them now would mean nothing—just an empty victory open to ridicule.
“I don’t think so.”
She couldn’t just let this slide.
“What?”
“I said I won’t. I’ve got training to do.”
“You—! Stop right there!”
Ignoring his shouted threats, Aileen turned to walk away, but Vendy stormed after her. Enraged, he reached out to grab her shoulder.
Smack!
Before his rough hand could reach her, Aileen’s slim, pale hand struck his arm away with surprising force.
“Don’t touch me.”
She stopped and turned around, her voice cold. The sheer pressure in her eyes made Vendy flinch, then quickly mask his surprise with a scowl.
“Did you just hit me?”
“We’re both regular knights. The Order may care about seniority, but what matters more is skill. And I don’t serve knights who are beneath me.”
“You little—! Pick up your sword!”
The sudden escalation stunned the surrounding knights into silence. Then, as Vendy shouted in anger, jaws dropped.
“I think we should wait until your injuries are fully healed.”
Aileen’s eyes calmly scanned Vendy up and down, her tone unbothered.
Vendy opened his mouth to retort, but no words came out. He just gaped like a fish.
“There’s no point fighting now. It wouldn’t be fair.”
Her voice remained composed, but her words hit hard. Vendy and his crew scowled but couldn’t argue. She wasn’t wrong.
After a long, tense moment, Vendy finally growled in frustration and spoke—adding one condition.
“Then until we’re fully recovered, you stop training too. You know how fast you lose your edge when you skip practice. Fair’s fair.”
The petty demand made her want to sigh, but honestly, it worked out in her favor. Aileen nodded, then offered something more.
“Fine. But once you’re recovered, being healed doesn’t mean being at your best. So I’ll fight all three of you—together or one at a time. Your choice.”
“……”
“That’s the only way the fight will be even.”
Gasps and hushed murmurs broke out all around. Even if they were injured, this was Vendy’s crew—the top-ranked knights in the Khan Order after the vice commander.
And she wanted to fight all three? Alone? With that small frame?
“Even? You’re saying this is even? Are you mocking me?!”
Vendy’s face turned beet red as he stomped in fury.
“If you don’t like it, suit yourself. But I’d rather win and silence the gossip than keep hearing whispers afterward.”
It took some time for the argument to wrap up, but in the end, Vendy begrudgingly agreed to Aileen’s terms. Her logic made sense—even to him.
The official duel was set for the day before Cylas and Siran returned. Until then, Aileen spent her time quietly observing the knights’ training—receiving all sorts of unreadable looks from those around her.
The day of the long-awaited duel finally arrived.
Though it was called a sparring match, in reality, it was more like a battle for hierarchy.
Aileen stood at the center of the training ground, her pink hair tied high behind her head, examining the wooden sword in her hands. On the other side, Vendy and his fully recovered team stood grinning smugly.
“How about we use real swords?”
Vendy casually handed the wooden sword he was holding to a nearby knight and made the sudden suggestion. The steel blade now in his grip gleamed coldly in the light.
Aileen stared at the sword for a moment, then gave a shrug, unfazed.
“Suit yourself.”
The response came so easily that the knights who had gathered in a circle to watch the match gasped in alarm and began murmuring among themselves.
“Then let’s go with real blades,”
Vendy said with a grin, swinging his sword lightly, warming up his wrist with sharp, threatening motions.
Normally, knights never used real swords when sparring—especially not within the same order.
But Aileen figured that Vendy must really resent her more than she’d thought. She calmly unsheathed her own blade.
Shing.
The sound of steel being drawn rang out, clear and sharp.
There really was nothing like holding a real sword. Her body pulsed with excitement as adrenaline surged through her, and she was just a beat behind as she finished getting into position.
“Ready!”
The knight assigned to judge the duel called out loudly.
“Begin!”
Everyone here would be a witness.
Aileen closed her eyes briefly, then opened them again, letting her body respond naturally as her instincts came to life.
Vendy’s blade, relying on his heavy strength and bulk, looked sluggish in her eyes. Tch. He walked around mocking others with that kind of swordsmanship?
She muttered to herself, realizing she was still in better shape than she’d feared. Effortlessly, Aileen deflected the flash of steel coming at her.
“Tch! Dammit!”
Vendy growled in frustration.
It was true—there was a gap in strength between men and women. That much couldn’t be helped.
But Aileen never tried to overpower her opponents. She had learned to redirect their strength instead. And it worked especially well against people like Vendy.
Clang! Clang!
His attacks came fast and relentless, one after another. To a casual observer, it might have looked like Aileen was being pushed back. But anyone with a trained eye would’ve noticed—she was in control.
Unfortunately, there weren’t many such observers in the crowd.
Still, some knights, those who had quietly viewed Vendy and his gang as a nuisance, found themselves sweating with anticipation, silently cheering her on.
This wasn’t a match with wooden swords. They were using real blades. A single mistake could lead to serious injury, and yet it looked like Vendy was truly going all out.
“Is that really safe…?”
One of the watching knights mumbled nervously.
Just then, Aileen spotted it—a small gap between Vendy’s arm and his ribs, left exposed by his overly wide movements. Without hesitation, she slipped through.
His large frame couldn’t move fast enough to react. He turned his sword too late, and all he managed to do was swipe weakly above Aileen’s incoming blade.
Clang! Clatter…
Vendy’s sword went flying, spinning through the air before landing on the ground with a clatter, rolling several times.
It was over in an instant.
Silence filled the training ground. The only sound was Vendy’s ragged breathing echoing through the air.
Aileen took a moment to savor the stillness before speaking, breaking the spell.
“Well? Referee?”
The stunned knight snapped out of it and quickly raised his hand.
“Ah—! Victory goes to Aileen!”
Aileen smiled sweetly and turned to Vendy, who was still staring blankly at her, half out of it.
“Vendy. From what I saw today, you should really focus on training your agility.”
“……”
“And if you’re ever feeling bold again, feel free to challenge me anytime. I’ll gladly accept.”
“……”
“Oh—and maybe stop with the petty games. You’re a knight, aren’t you? Fight with skill, not pride.”
His face had turned pale. Honestly, he looked a bit pitiful now. Aileen spoke without a hint of pity.
“Now, why don’t you step aside? Your friends are waiting for you.”
Some of the knights gently pulled Vendy away. He didn’t resist, his body dragging behind them limply. Watching him get hauled off, Aileen let out a long breath.
Finally—one headache dealt with.
The rest was surprisingly easy.
The remaining knights, all weaker than Vendy, were already demoralized. They fell quickly in quick sparring rounds, dropping one after another at Aileen’s feet.
And each time she defeated someone, she made sure to offer a calm remark:
“You’re especially weak in this area. I’d suggest focusing on that in your training.”
Every time they heard it, the knights flinched—still stunned by the sheer difference in strength they hadn’t anticipated.
