༺ Eyes of a Dragon and the Human Heart (28) ༻
Irene Lupermion hated Ian Percus.
This emotion fell somewhere between fear and aversion; it was hard to pinpoint what exactly it was.
Nevertheless, her hatred for Ian Percus was unmistakable.
If asked to justify her hatred, she could list several reasons.
Firstly, he had humiliated the Lady she served by pouring water on her in front of everyone.
As a loyal knight, she couldn’t tolerate such injustice, particularly when her Lady, Cien, was just having a conversation with him.
It was common sense that conflicts which began with words should be resolved with words.
Even disregarding their noble statuses as princess and knight, randomly splashing water during a conversation was a grave disrespect.
Secondly, even after committing this transgression, he remained unapologetic.
His demeanor suggested he had done something entirely justifiable, even having the audacity to stop Irene, who was on the verge of unsheathing her sword.
If that wasn’t enough a mere third-year academy student like him said what?
Keep her hands off her sword if she didn’t want to regret it?! It was the first time she had been insulted like that.
Irene was well within her rights to retaliate against him.
And in the end, Irene, who had fearlessly confronted him, was utterly defeated.
In just a single exchange of blows.
That alone was evidence of the gap in their skills.
When her sword was deflected, and her world turned upside down, Irene came to a stark realization.
She couldn’t win.
Her thoughts were in disarray, and as she lay pinned to the ground, struggling to breathe, these thoughts consumed her.
It was the moment she finally acknowledged the odd sense of unease she had felt since facing the man.
He was more akin to a monster than a man.
His eyes, devoid of any emotion, his ability to discern the flow of mana, and his audacity to strike down a princess’s escort knight without any a moment’s hesitation.
Yet, Irene clung to her resolve until the bitter end.
She knew it was impossible to overpower him, but her Lady had been insulted, and she herself had been defeated in a single blow.
If she couldn’t land even a single blow, she wouldn’t be able to hold her head high.
It was then that the hatchet buried itself in Irene’s shoulder.
The blade, cleaving through bone, was a terrifying display of both speed and power, forcing a scream from her lips.
What followed was a nightmare.
Blood splattered, bones were partially crushed, and marrow seeped out.
The sensation of pain dulled over time, leaving only the feeling of looming death in her fading consciousness.
However, beyond the physical pain, it was Ian’s dismissive comments that pierced her heart.
“The standard of the Imperial Guards is pitiable. They require mental conditioning.”
“The so-called escorts are hesitating to protect their Lady?”
“It’s what your Lady would have suffered.”
Each indifferent comment from him felt like a dagger twisting in her heart.
For Irene Lupermion, brimming with knightly pride, these remarks were tantamount to a death sentence.
The only reason her Lady emerged unharmed was solely due to the man’s mercy.
Ultimately, Irene found herself grateful to the man for being kind enough to stop after punishing her and the other guards.
This felt like an unbearable insult to her.
She had failed both as an escort and as a knight.
Relying on an opponent’s mercy was something anyone could do.
In fact, groveling for mercy might have been the better option. The more Irene thought about it, the more she was consumed by self-loathing.
She was unqualified.
Both as an escort, and as a knight.
Naturally, Irene had to spend considerable time in the infirmary.
The more time she spent alone in bed, idling away, the deeper her depression became.
Even though her Lady, Cien, frequently visited to chat.
In fact, Cien’s kindness only intensified her fear.
She feared she could no longer be an escort knight deserving of such generosity, feeling utterly inadequate.
It was only after several days that Irene could leave the temple.
Her situation seemed better compared to others. Another escort knight, Zeros, who lost his arm to Ian, had to return to his hometown after being deemed unfit for battle.
Yet, the reality awaiting Irene upon her discharge was harsh.
Whispers trailed her every step.
“Is she that knight?”
“I heard she got thrashed by Senior Ian from the Knight Division.”
“They say she’s our senior, how utterly humiliating.”
The mockery and ridicule directed at Irene weren’t confined to the academy’s students.
She not only received letters from the Imperial Guard’s Knight Order, which clearly conveyed their profound disappointment, but also from her family, expressing concern over the family’s prestige and honor.
Until now, Irene had never disappointed anyone.
Truthfully, it wasn’t really her fault. If four escort knights, including her, were easily defeated, it was more logical to conclude that their opponent was exceptionally strong.
However, people did not understand events in a singular direction.
If Ian Percus was regarded as unexpectedly strong, then simultaneously, Irene and the other escort knights were also judged as unexpectedly weak.
This was the only way people could fit reality into common sense.
Irene, once the proud daughter of the Lupermion family and a trusted confidante of the fifth princess, suddenly found herself an outcast.
However, Cien refused to give up on her.
Each morning, she persistently knocked on Irene’s door, personally trying to persuade her.
Despite Irene’s initial allegiance being fueled by a calculated snobbishness to remain close to the Princess, she couldn’t help but be deeply moved by Cien’s genuine sincerity.
Still, Irene was too afraid to go outside.
Beyond her room lay the world.
A world where every step invited ridicule and criticism, where elegantly worded letters expressing disappointment were incessantly hurled at her.
She had no desire to step out. Nevertheless, it was Cien, her highly respected Lady, who eventually coaxed her into the open.
Cien seemed determined to use this opportunity to dispel Irene’s fears.
Despite the whispers, the princess steadfastly stood by her side, almost as if to say she wasn’t ashamed of her.
Deeply comforted by this, Irene made a resolve.
This time, she wouldn’t disappoint the princess.
Mere hours after making this resolution, Irene’s face turned pale. It happened right after witnessing the man’s hatchet strike.
His movements, swift and seamless, betrayed no hint of hesitation.
It was a familiar sight. That man was still a monster.
Irene’s hands dampened with sweat from the tension. Swallowing hard, she could only watch as the man approached.
And when he couldn’t resist the princess’s provocation and drew his hatchet…
Irene, seemingly anticipating this moment, unsheathed her sword.
This was her opportunity to cleanse herself of all her humiliations.
As an escort knight, she would bravely confront her fear and protect her Lady.
The moment Irene’s sword resonated with a sharp metallic sound, ready for battle, a voice reverberated in her head.
“Knight Irene… retract your hand from your sword, unless you wish to regret it.”
The indifferent voice she had heard that fateful day.
That sharp voice pricked her spine, freezing her body in place.
It was a fleeting moment of hesitation.
But in the battles of the highly skilled, sometimes, a mere split second makes all the difference.
Before Irene could even unsheathe her sword, the man’s hatchet already dripped with a chilling intent, hovering menacingly above the princess’s shoulder
The princess quivered under the palpable threat. Her gray eyes, wide with horror, stared in disbelief at the imminent danger.
Her trembling gaze spoke volumes of her fear.
Unperturbed, the man leaned in and whispered in a subdued tone.
“So, do you think the outside world will come to save you now, Princess?”
If he wanted, he could have effortlessly struck down the princess’s shoulder.
And just as effortlessly, he could have severed her neck.
Everyone present was acutely aware of this fact.
That was why both Cien and Irene could only stand frozen in place.
The man continued his whisper in his muffled voice.
His voice, deep and resonant, took on a chilling undertone in the tense atmosphere.
“The real world exists neither within nor beyond the Academy. The only truth is the reality that you, Your Highness, are witnessing and hearing right at this very moment.”
Just like this hatchet, Ian said with a wry smile.
The princess’s eyelids fluttered, then shut tightly.
It seemed she wanted to say something but dared not open her mouth.
Irene’s eyes widened in dismay as she observed the scene.
Once again.
She had disappointed her Lady once again.
Ian, seemingly indifferent to Irene’s reaction, paused to gaze at the trembling princess.
He then retrieved his hatchet.
The princess’s bewildered gaze shifted towards Ian. She seemed to want to retort, but her fear still lingered, and her lips moved in vain.
Understanding her silence, Ian responded in a leisurely voice.
“I don’t use my hatchet on the pitiful. It’s reserved for those who truly deserve it.”
In other words, the princess wasn’t even deemed worthy of a strike from his hatchet.
Though the reason was unknown, he was implying she was pathetic.
It was an unbearable insult. Isn’t sympathy an emotion bestowed by the strong upon the weak?
It wouldn’t have been surprising if the princess had erupted in anger immediately.
In fact, her eyes, brimming with tears, swiftly turned to Ian.
Yet, the instant her gaze met those golden eyes, Cien had no choice but to avert her eyes.
Any argument against Ian’s words would have only seemed like a plea to be struck by the hatchet.
Just like that, the proud Cien was being subdued by the man’s hatchet.
Irene clenched her teeth in even greater despair.
It was her own incompetence as an escort knight that was to blame. At that moment, the man finally turned his gaze towards Irene.
“And you, Escort Knight… I mean…”
Ian’s words trailed off, then he tilted his head in thought.
“Who were you again? Regardless, your hesitation at the end was disappointing.”
He said this with a slight smile.
Unaware of how deeply the words ‘Who were you again?’ had stabbed into Irene’s heart.
To him, she must have been so insignificant that he couldn’t even be bothered to remember her name.
Even though he had previously addressed her as ‘Knight Irene.’
Whether he understood the impact of his words or not, the man began to stroll away.
As he passed by her, he casually patted her shoulder a few times.
“….If only you hadn’t hesitated, you might have been able to prevent it.”
As if a string had snapped, something inside Irene broke.
The man left, leaving Cien and Irene alone, both collapsing to the ground almost simultaneously.
Cien still seemed in shock, while Irene gasped for air, overwhelmed by despair.
Irene thought to herself.
I’ve failed.
The man’s words were true.
Yes, she was flawed, incapable of ever being acknowledged by that man.
But if she couldn’t be recognized by that man, who else in this world would ever acknowledge her?
In his presence, she was destined to remain an eternal loser.
The world’s ridicule burrowed into Irene’s ears like earthworms. The letters of reprimand from the knight order and her family, filled with disapproving lines, scattered and cascaded over her heart, submerged in despair.
The truth was so suffocating that Irene felt an urge to clutch her throat and scream out loud.
Ian Percus, Ian Percus, Ian Percus…
As she murmured his name, a profound sense of despair was evident in Irene’s expression.
She needed to succeed or at least be acknowledged. Otherwise…
She found herself unable to finish such a thought.
After all, there was no point thinking beyond that.
Whether it was her pride as a knight, her life, or everything else, it would all be for naught.
*
It was only after that incident when I heard a peculiar rumor in front of the temple.
