Ch#269
Fragment of the Broken Glass Slipper Side Story 2 Episode 5
"Please wait!"
A shrill voice echoed loudly down the corridor. Michael Aires halted with an expressionless face. He hadn't expected the young knight to follow so soon, revealing such a disheveled state—truly a novice was a novice.
Exposing himself like this where prying eyes might linger showed his inexperience. At that age, neither Michael, the Crown Prince, nor Rosan would have acted so rashly.
The young knight of House Alpheus had clearly focused solely on swordsmanship, ignorant of worldly ways. This was all the fault of House Alpheus's head for raising him poorly.
"What is it?"
"Stop your petty behavior."
"Petty behavior?"
"Yes. Tormenting a subordinate out of jealousy—what else could it be but petty and base?"
"Is that how you see it?"
"Isn't it?"
No hollow laugh escaped at the challenging gaze. Michael Aires calmly pondered how long it had been since anyone had looked at him this way.
When the Emperor was still Crown Prince, he had ruthlessly punished any who dared treat him lightly, even for upholding his dignity. It was an era when even the late Emperor overlooked excessive force against political foes challenging the throne. That had allowed him free rein.
The Crown Prince had chuckled, calling his friend a "madman."
"You're right. It is petty and base."
Michael Aires readily admitted it, waiting to see how much further the novice would squirm.
"So stop it."
"Why?"
"Pardon?"
"Why should I?"
Ilya's hand instinctively went to his waist. His trembling body, dying to draw his sword, was laughable.
"Why not draw it?"
Ilya Alpheus growled through ragged breaths.
"......You don't suit Lady Bischwaltz."
Michael's brow twitched momentarily. Ilya pressed on, mocking the brief lapse in composure. It was blatant provocation.
"She shouldn't have a vile man like you as her lover. She'd be unhappy."
"Why do you decide that?"
"Am I supposed to just watch the woman I adore walk into the mire? You abandoned her at the victory banquet! As a second son unable to inherit House Aires, you coveted House Bischwaltz's title. You're just using her. Vile bastard!"
His words were fierce, but his voice grew quieter. Finally noticing the peril? Michael regarded Ilya with an odd expression. Gritting his teeth and spewing insults showed he was thinking desperately.
"Sir Alpheus, your words are excessive."
"Aren't they? Deny it."
"Why tell you? Why should I?"
"You openly courted a married woman and gave her debutante gifts, tarnishing her honor. Isn't that why unqualified men approach her? How much more must you shake her to be satisfied?!"
"Not words from someone who confessed publicly."
"Anyone can confess. But acting without regard for her position proves your selfishness. I'm different. So leave her. She's no woman for the likes of you to covet."
"......Then who suits her?"
"Anyone but you."
"Not you either?"
Ilya looked stunned, as if struck, then ground his teeth.
"......What makes me inferior to you?"
Ha ha. A dry laugh escaped Michael's lips. That was the crux. Retreat yourself. The defeated male's卑屈 was laid bare.
He'd sent letters diligently, yet failed to win Cisse's heart. Hence the constant provocations.
Was today's antics part of that? Michael decided he no longer needed to indulge the novice.
"Plenty."
The air grew heavy in an instant with his shifted aura. Michael was one of the empire's prized knights. Though said to fall short of Sir Halberd, his talent was formidable.
His overt killing intent made the young genius tremble. Battlefields traversed, blood spilled, time endured—none comparable to a novice. It was no contest from the start.
"Are you challenging me to a duel now?"
Ilya asked, face pale as death. His shaking hand fumbled for his sword, yet he feigned bravado admirably.
Michael slightly raised his estimation of the novice. Yes, this young knight had more guts, cunning, and flair for escalation than the "bastards" he'd faced before.
Even now, hunching as if fearing witnesses—it looked convincingly like Michael bullying a rookie.
"No, you're not worth it."
"Afraid of my sword?"
"Ha ha, I thought you just had poor memory, but you're a fool who can't even gauge my skill."
Ilya's brow furrowed in displeasure at the one-sided abuse. Yet his defiant stare showed no retreat.
"Long or short, you have to compare."
"Are your eyes decorative? Why compare when it's obvious at a glance? Hands off your sword."
"What?"
"Can't sever your neck. But wrists or vocal cords? Easy. Or live the rest of your life on one leg—not bad."
"What?"
"That's why you keep crawling up, isn't it?"
"You're jealous of me!"
"Me?"
"Yes! Captain, you're in the same boat as me. As long as Viscount Bischwaltz lives, she won't belong to any man! Plenty of opportunities ahead. That's why you're restless, tormenting me."
"Ha, ha ha ha. If your mouth's the only hole, maybe I should make more."
"Finally showing your lecherous true colors. Try it!"
Ilya lunged. A swift strike, but slowed from recent training. Exhausted punches were easily dodged.
Michael tilted his head back lightly, evading, then grabbed the insolent novice's hair. Ilya's neck bent sharply to his shoulder, a groan escaping his open mouth. Hands clutching Michael's trembled in pain.
"Guhk."
"Sir Ilya Alpheus."
Long, elegant fingers playfully tapped the young knight's cheek.
"Get a grip, novice. Her rejecting you is no reason to whine to me. Insolence has degrees. Did you devote your brain mostly to swordsmanship?"
A kick to the inner knee with his long leg buckled Ilya downward. Head still gripped, the imbalance doubled the pain. Overwhelming strength difference; even escape futile. Michael dominated in subduing painfully.
"Dragging this out with schemes deserves praise. Yes, entertaining. Annoying too. But how long will the genius moniker last? His Majesty indulging your family's whining ends here. So enough insolence?"
"Vile bastard."
"Sir Alpheus. Even unarmed, ruining a body is easy. A bit more force does it. I don't want to cripple a fine knight over this."
Ilya spat through a twisted grin.
"Liar."
"Ah, caught? If you knew, you should've tucked tail and fled."
Michael's smile faded to blank mutter. His foot now pressed Ilya's knee hard. More pressure could tear muscle.
Or sever a leg as insolence pretext. Emperor might complain, but good excuse for rest.
Calmly pondering, Ilya's voice reached him.
"But does Lady Bischwaltz know you have such a ferocious temper?"
"What?"
A smug smile lit the young knight's face, as if prior gasps were feigned.
"You act so politely to other ladies, but does she know you can wield violence like this?"
"Ha ha. What are you playing at?"
Ilya gestured behind Michael with his eyes. Uneasy, Michael turned slowly. His eyes widened. Cisse de Bischwaltz stood in the corridor, expressionless.
"Insolence? When did I do that? You're too much, Captain. You're tormenting me because I confessed to her. Please stop now."
Ilya's pleading voice pierced Michael's frozen ears sharply.
Bullying a rookie, suddenly lowered tone. His mind grasped it instantly. But his wildly pounding heart defied reason.
"Cisse......"
His grip on Ilya's hair slackened naturally. Sir Ailes weakly called her pet name. Even as the young knight shoved him violently to rise, he couldn't react.
Cold sweat drenched his back; his whirling mind screamed 'disaster.' Fearing she'd seen his violence and recoiled, he couldn't approach.
"Cisse, this is......"
"Sir Alpheus."
Cisse de Bischwaltz cut him off calmly. Her voice was steady—no, cold enough to halt the happily grinning Ilya Alpheus in his tracks.
"You're hurt. You should get treated."
"Pardon? But......"
"I'd help, but you understand I can't. Above all, you must honor your promise to me."
"Even after seeing this, you're sending me away?"
She regarded the vehemently protesting knight with dry eyes. No sympathy for the young knight marred her pretty face. Utterly indifferent, like to a stranger. Just like then.
Ilya Alpheus realized her gaze mirrored the face from tasting death, stepping back unwittingly.
"That was the promise."
"Lady, please......"
"Sir Alpheus. I should be the one pleading."
"......Understood."
"I beg you. Please do nothing more from now on."
"Lady!"
"Force is just another violence. Your actions feel no different to me. Yes, I'm scared of you. Frightened. Must I say more? How much clearer must I be?"
A perfect rejection, leaving no room. The knight's face twisted in sorrow, mingled shame and pathos with faint anger. Cisse delivered one final line to Sir Alpheus.
"I'm not pleased by your affection. It disgusts me. So stop."
Sir Ailes, head bowed at the cruel words, looked up startled. Sir Alpheus paled, trembling violently.
"Sir Alpheus, take care."
With that, Cisse didn't glance his way again. She merely extended her hand to the Ice Knight who'd stood speechless since her arrival.
"Sir Ailes, shall we have tea?"
Clearly 'Sir Ailes,' not Mel.
Fragment of the Broken Glass Slipper
Novel by Yeolmae
Author: Yeolmae
Publisher: Kwon Tae-wan, Woo Cheon-je
eBook Publication Date: 2017-12-22
Production: CL Production
Address: 1108-ho, 41 Digital-ro 31-gil, Guro-gu, Seoul
This book is published as an eBook by KWBOOKS under contract with the copyright holder.
Unauthorized reproduction of this book's content without the publisher's permission is prohibited by copyright law.