SWY 3

“Ah, so you ran away… Wait, ran away?”

Lestel nodded, taking a slow sip of tea after savoring its aroma. His relaxed demeanor was infuriating, and Sharhan shook his head in disbelief.

What is going on? Why does he keep spouting nonsense?

But it wasn’t nonsense.

“It’s been about two and a half years since I ran away, so I might’ve already lost my heir status.”

Lestel’s expression remained as calm and unbothered as ever. Sharhan’s jaw dropped. Lestel was the heir, yes, but he wasn’t the only son of House Ailun. Fourteen years ago, after Lestel’s mother passed away, the Marquis of Ailun remarried less than a year later. His new wife came from a distinguished family and was ambitious enough to secure a marchioness’s title.

The marquis had two sons with his second wife, and both the stepmother and her sons naturally had their eyes on Lestel’s position as heir. So Lestel’s offhand comment about losing his status wasn’t an exaggeration, it might very well be true. His position, which looked solid on the outside, could actually be teetering on the edge.

If Lestel, Sharhan’s lifelong rival since the womb, were to be stripped of his title, Sharhan would honestly cheer. Lestel’s misfortune was Sharhan’s joy. Still, his fury surged until he finally exploded.

“You crazy bastard! I knew you weren’t right in the head, but you’ve completely lost it! You ran away? And now you’re talking about losing your title like it’s nothing?!”

“Honey, why is your mouth so vulgar these days?”

“I told you not to call me that!”

Sharhan was visibly disgusted, but Lestel only grinned in satisfaction.

“If you don’t want me to call you that, doesn’t it just make me want to do it more?”

“You said you didn’t even like calling me that!”

“Of course I don’t. But the way you recoil and freak out, it’s exhilarating. Your suffering brings me joy, and your pain is my happiness.”

“You’re insane.”

“My pleasure.”

Lestel even placed his left hand over his chest and gave a slight bow, a noble’s formal expression of gratitude and honor. It made Sharhan’s blood pressure spike. Feeling like his insides were about to burst, he downed the entire cup of tea in one go. It was fragrant and clean-tasting, probably expensive, but he had no time to enjoy it. He grabbed a handful of cookies, shoved them into his mouth until his cheeks puffed, and chewed furiously.

Being around Lestel always drained his energy and left him ravenous. It had always been that way, probably because they were constantly fighting, whether with words or fists.

“Get up when you’re done.”

When the plate that had been stacked high with cookies was finally empty, Lestel stood up. Sharhan, his energy barely restored thanks to the sweet overload, looked up.

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why? It’s time to work. Starting today, your job is to guard me, right? I’m heading out now, so you have to come with me and protect me.”

“Oh, right. You are the guild head.”

Sharhan had been so shocked about the whole running away thing that he’d briefly forgotten Lestel was the head of Black Pearl.

So I’m Lestel’s bodyguard now? I’m supposed to risk my precious life for that bastard?

Sharhan scowled openly and leaned back in his chair. He hadn’t wanted to guard anyone in the first place. He’d only agreed to it because taking the personal guard job meant the merchant escort mission would go to Red Wolves. Sure, he needed the money, and yes, they were about to be kicked out of the inn, but still.

Of all people, it had to be Lestel Ailun. This is grounds to break the contract on the spot.

Sharhan’s family, the Counts of Kaois, had been feuding with the Ailuns for generations. The idea of a Kaois protecting an Ailun? Unthinkable.

If Grandpa finds out, he’ll claw his way out of the grave to stop me.

Sharhan folded his arms and spoke disinterestedly.

“There are eight mercenaries in our unit more skilled than me.”

“And?”

“I’ll send our best guy instead. Wouldn’t you rather hire someone else than have me guarding your back?”

“Why would I?”

“You’d trust me to stand behind you? For all you know, I could bash your skull in the moment you turn around.”

“That actually sounds kind of exciting. Life’s been pretty dull lately.”

“If you want a thrill, go to the gambling den.”

“Funny you mention it, I was just heading there. You know how many lunatics hang around those places, right? You better protect me with your life, honey.”

Lestel smiled playfully and even winked at him. Sharhan clenched his jaw, ready to shout again, but stopped himself at the last second. He knew better now, getting riled up only made Lestel happier.

“I’ll send someone better than me. You think I’m going to protect you? A Kaois guarding an Ailun?”

Sharhan scoffed and stood, brushing past Lestel toward the door. He had just grabbed the doorknob when-

“Honey, did your brain devolve while you were playing soldier? Did it turn into muscle? When did you get this dumb?”

“…Did you just call me dumb? I got top marks more often than you at the academy, thank you very much.”

Sharhan scowled and shot Lestel a glare.

“Once. Maybe twice.”

“Once or twice, what matters is I beat you more often.”

“If I hadn’t left, I would’ve taken first in the next exam. I already had it.”

“In an academy without me, sure. And who said I ran away?”

“You snuck out in the middle of the night without telling anyone. That’s exactly what running away is.”

Sharhan wanted to deny that Lestel would’ve ranked first in the next test, but unfortunately, it was probably true. Every time Sharhan took first, Lestel always beat him on the one after. Still, he refused to admit defeat.

“I told you it wasn’t running away!”

“You vanished without a word, didn’t you?”

“I was in a rush! Why the hell am I even explaining this? Whatever, bet it was real easy to take first once I was gone, huh?”

“Would’ve been easy either way. You only beat me when I slipped up, and I thought you had a decent brain because of it, but apparently not. Must’ve been hard, trying to outdo me with that pea-sized brain.”

“You…!”

“Forgot about this, didn’t you?”

Lestel stepped in close – close enough for Sharhan to feel his breath – and tapped his left chest. Whether on purpose or not, his fingers brushed right next to his nipple, making Sharhan flinch.

“You son of a- the contract mark.”

“Now you remember?”

Sharhan glared daggers at Lestel, cursing him silently. He had already signed and sealed the magical contract Simon presented with his blood—two copies, even.

One of the contracts had burned on its own after absorbing the blood, searing the mark of the contract into Sharhan’s chest. That mark wasn’t just symbolic, it carried force.

If he broke the terms of the contract, his heart would seize with unbearable pain. The only way out was to tear up the second copy before it ignited. That’s what he’d learned at the academy.

What were the contract terms again?

He’d agreed to personally guard the guild head for 20 gold a month. And the duration… wait, what was the duration?

“I don’t think… there was a specified duration.”

Sharhan groaned, trying to remember, and was struck by a creeping, blood-draining dread. As if to confirm it, Lestel smiled like a villain and gently brushed Sharhan’s now-pale cheek with the back of his hand. His hands were cold, as they always were, and the touch made Sharhan instinctively recoil.

Then Lestel, smiling like the devil, said,

“The contract lasts until I’m satisfied.”