Chapter 121: Duke Vault [1]

Julies stood in the corridor behind the arena, his hands clenched and trembling—not from fear, but from adrenaline that hadn’t quite drained away.

The roar of the crowd still echoed in his ears, muffled but persistent. Not long ago, they were ready to jeer him off the stage. Now, they’d witnessed something else. Something even he hadn’t expected.

A victory.

He exhaled and leaned back against the cold stone wall, closing his eyes.

“I actually did it…”

His voice came out hoarse, barely a whisper. Part of him still couldn’t believe it. The duel, Alice’s blade slicing through the air, her relentless pressure, the crushing weight of a noble’s presence—he had felt it all.

But more than that, he remembered the look in her eyes.

Pride. Frustration. And something else he couldn’t quite name.

He opened his eyes again. The corridor was quiet, dimly lit by floating lanterns.

Then—

Click.

Soft footsteps approached from the far end. For a moment, Julies tensed, expecting guards. A reprimand. Or worse.

But instead, it was someone far more familiar.

Alice.

Dressed no longer in battle garb but in a long blue cloak that hung just below her knees, her silver hair now brushed and clean. There was a quiet strength in her stride, even though her shoulders still held the stiffness of someone not used to defeat.

Julies straightened. His mouth opened, ready to apologize—for beating her, for making a scene, for everything.

But she raised a hand, silencing him.

“You won,” she said plainly.

He blinked.

“I… yeah. I guess I did.”

A pause. Awkward, but not cold.

Then, Alice stepped forward, stopping just in front of him. Her gaze didn’t waver.

“You saved me in the cave,” she said. “I haven’t thanked you for that.”

Julies looked away, scratching the back of his neck. “You’d have done the same for me.”

“No,” she admitted. “I wouldn’t have.”

His eyes snapped back to hers.

“I would’ve dragged you out, maybe. Fought beside you. But to stay behind like that? Alone, against something you couldn’t beat?”

She shook her head.

“That takes a different kind of strength.”

Julies didn’t know what to say. He could only stand there, heart thumping.

And then, to his utter surprise—

She bowed.

Not a shallow nod. A real bow. From the waist, eyes lowered, hands straight at her sides.

“I was arrogant. I underestimated you, not just as a fighter, but as a person. And I lost because of it.”

Julies swallowed hard.

Alice straightened. Her cheeks were slightly pink, but her voice remained steady.

“I’ll get stronger,” she said, more to herself than to him. “Next time we fight, I’ll win.”

He gave a small, almost sheepish smile. “Guess I’ll have to get stronger too, then.”

For a moment, something like amusement flickered in her eyes. The tension eased.

Then she stepped closer, barely half a foot between them.

“Julies,” she said quietly. “There’s something about you I can’t figure out.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Uh… thanks?”

“Don’t thank me yet,” she replied, crossing her arms. “You’ve embarrassed a lot of noble houses today. The other families aren’t going to forget this.”

His smile faded.

“They’ll try to break you. Humiliate you. Maybe even… erase you.”

Julies frowned. “Then I’ll survive. Like I always have.”

Alice studied him for a long moment.

Then she nodded.

“Good. Because you’re not just my servant anymore.”

He blinked. “Huh?”

“You’re my rival now.”

And with that, she turned on her heel and walked away, leaving Julies frozen in place.

His mouth opened, but all that came out was a quiet laugh.

“Rival, huh?” he muttered, watching her disappear into the shadows of the corridor.

He hadn’t asked for it. Hadn’t expected it.

But maybe—just maybe—that title meant more than any medal or applause.

Maybe it meant that, from here on out… things were going to get a lot more interesting.

—-

Next Day…

“I never imagined you would win.”

Hans groaned, rubbing his temples like he was nursing a migraine.

“I was sure milady would end up coming to me for help.”

His words hung in the air, dripping with frustration.

But what could he do? He was standing in front of me, the surprise winner.

Whether it was disbelief or plain annoyance at my unexpected victory, Hans let out a deep sigh and shook his head.

“With the strength you showed at the martial arts tournament, can’t we see some progress elsewhere?”

In front of the table—and something disturbingly green—I bowed my head awkwardly.

“I’m really trying.”

“That cursed word again! Effort doesn’t matter—results do! You made quite the performance preparing the tea, but the taste? Utterly undrinkable!”

The liquid in the cup looked like something vibrant and healthy.

Too bad it tasted like soggy grass and regret.

According to one of the knights, it was “like rotten water pretending to be tea.”

And Hans? Hans treated tea like it was a sacred ritual.

“Tea ceremony is a fundamental virtue of a proper servant,” he scolded, arms crossed.

“You must always be prepared. A master should enjoy their leisure with elegance—and flavor, not this… swamp brew.”

As he launched into yet another lecture, my mind drifted toward the comforts of tea bags and instant coffee. Simple. Reliable. Not this suffering.

Eventually, after his many “pieces of advice,” Hans straightened up and cleared his throat.

“Well, let’s stop here. My current duty isn’t to berate my subordinate—but to guide the champion of the martial arts tournament.”

’Could’ve fooled me,’ I grumbled internally.

Still, I followed him, our steps echoing through the familiar corridors of the estate.

“This’ll be your first time going down to the second basement floor.”

I stiffened.

The second basement floor?

That was the place he explicitly warned me never to enter—under any circumstances.

“If the first floor houses high-quality weapons and armor, the second floor,” he paused for emphasis, “is a treasure vault. You’ve earned the right to choose one item from it.”

My eyes widened a bit.

“Aren’t there guardians down there?” I asked cautiously, still remembering the trial with the Guardian Spirit at Count Velentine’s vault. That one had nearly killed me—and I doubted a Duke’s house would use a lesser guardian.

Hans smirked, sensing my hesitation.

“Relax. The guardian this time—”

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