It's been a few months since I started training the prince, and there are good things and bad things.
The good thing is that he is learning quite quickly. Since I don't really have a schedule of my own because I am an outcast, I have all the free time in the world, and since he is insistent about learning, I also entertained the idea.
[Tyr teaches you the way of the sword.]
It was also because of this.
"…?" He was surprised from my sudden change of style.
I moved first, a swift and deliberate strike aimed at his stomach. Peter parried, his movements sharper and more precise than before.
"Keep your stance steady," I instructed, circling him. "You're still too rigid."
He adjusted his footing, his eyes never leaving mine. I feigned a strike to his left, and as he moved to block, I pivoted and tapped his wrist with my sword.
"You've let your guard down,"
"…" He bowed his head in agreement
So far, I'm only maintaining a professional relationship with him.
I've read too many romance novels to the point that if I act soft towards him, he might develop feelings for me.
Of course, my pretentiousness can only get me so far, but it's an instinct I can't shake off no matter what.
After handing him a towel to dry off, I proceeded to have tea time in the middle of the training grounds. The bastard would calmly sit down and drink tea too.
Here is the bad thing: this guy is already developing signs of obsession. Peter's character is complex, but in reality, he falls into a sort of flat character when it comes to personality. He is an obsessive type, for short. He gets what he wants but protects it the best way he can, by being an asshole to literally everyone else. His trigger for obsession is literally one thing that ties him down. That is three words: "You can do it."
Yep, as absurd as it sounds, I accidentally blurted it out.
Let's go back a few months ago.
—
"You are too lax," I said as I parried his blows casually and counterattacked every time. "You rely on your strength too much."
When he tried to strengthen his blows, I only adjusted to match up with it. He was getting frustrated, but I kept pushing him. "Your form is sloppy. Focus on your stance."
"Your line of thinking is narrow." I finished the statement with a swift combo: a leg sweep, two quick strikes to the stomach, an uppercut, and a final downward stroke. He fell to the ground with the last blow.
It's a good thing I included the clause to not utter a word, or else he would have cursed through the entire sparring session.
His body was full of bruises and scars, but I didn't let him rest.
'Because I want to make him give up'
It wasn't enjoyable to torture someone; I was, after all, from the 21st century. But since I accepted, he must be the one to give up.
"Stand up," I commanded.
He held his head down, breathing heavily. His lips, swollen and bruised, parted slightly as if to speak, but he remained silent. I pulled out some ointment from my bag and applied it to his cheek. He looked at me with red eyes, glaring.
"When things go wrong as they sometimes will…" I began, my voice softening. Peter seemed confused by my sudden change in tone. "…when the road you're trudging seems all uphill. When funds are low and debts are high, and you want to smile but you have to sigh."
He reminded me of my comrades, of my family in the military. "When care is pressing you down a bit, rest if you must, but don't quit." I smiled faintly, the memories flooding back. "You stick to the fight when you're hardest hit—it's when things seem worst that you must not quit."
I stood up, offering my hand to him. "You can do it."
He looked at my hand, his expression shifting from anger to disbelief. Tears welled up in his eyes. With a sob, he quietly punched the ground. I handed him a dry towel.
"What are you crying for, huh?"
He stood up on his own, picked up the wooden sword again, and made a stance—a more refined and cleaner stance, as if he was taking it more seriously now. I raised my sword and readied myself too.
[Eras is touched by your gesture!]
[100 faith points acquired!]
I didn't realize then that I had made a mistake. I'm not an idiot to not notice the differences. He would always challenge me, and instead of being angry, he looked like he was enjoying it. He would always try to get close to me, and when I looked at him disgustedly, he would look like a scolded puppy.
I must finish this quickly.
'Adele, come and get your fucking dog quickly!'
---
Josephine von Konrow, that's my name but…
"Nephi, do you hate me?" It was a man hugging my hands while a maid named Jane was constantly pulling him away from me. "I'm the only one who's allowed to call the Lady Nephi!!!"
"I want to get to know the Lady better," he said while kissing my palm.
"Ugh."
"Lady! Kick this guy out already!"
How did this happen exactly?