SWY 4

“You’re insane…”

“You should’ve checked the contract properly. You can’t just stamp it without reading, especially not a magic contract.”

“……”

“Honey, protect me with your body and soul, alright? If you do a good job, maybe – just maybe – I’ll be so moved I’ll tear this up for you.”

Lestel waved the untouched copy of the contract. Simon must’ve slipped it to him earlier. As long as that parchment existed, Sharhan was bound by the contract to guard Lestel. Sharhan made a grab for the parchment but missed, breathing heavily as he tried to recall the contract’s contents. He hadn’t noticed the missing clause about the term, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t read it carefully.

The contract stated he was to protect the client day and night, ensuring they neither died nor got injured. Pretty standard for a bodyguard role, nothing unusual about the wording.

The problem was only one thing. That the client was Lestel.

No wonder Simon kept distracting me so I wouldn’t finish reading it.

“Now, shall we proceed with the contract? Here it is. Two copies, so you’ll need to sign both. Since it’s a magic contract, it requires your blood.”

“A magic contract…? You’re using a magical tool to hire a mercenary?”

“Better to be safe. You’ll see it includes clauses about the client’s safety and confidentiality. Oh, the pay is set at 20 gold per month. Same as what we’re paying the guards on the merchant escort. Please sign quickly. Actually, word’s gotten out, another merc group approached us. A first-rate one, offering the same rate as yours. They’ve got a few good-looking mercs too… Oh, signed already? Then I’ll take this.”

Looking back now, it was clear: the perfectly timed mention of payment and competition from another group had been a setup to push Sharhan into signing. Simon’s mention of the client being picky about looks? Bait. The speed with which Simon had scooped up the unburnt copy of the contract? No coincidence either.

“You knew I was part of Red Wolves, didn’t you?”

Sharhan scratched his head in frustration. Lestel admitted it without hesitation.

“Of course.”

“And you specifically requested me as your personal guard knowing it was me?”

“Obviously. Why else would I go through the trouble of using a magic contract to hire a second-rank mercenary?”

That explained it. Nobody used expensive magic contracts to hire ordinary mercenaries. The cost of the tools alone made it laughable. Sharhan had even scoffed at the extravagance when he signed, thinking Lestel was just throwing money around. Turned out it had all been a trap, and he’d walked right into it.

“When did you find out?”

“Yesterday.”

“So, you found out I joined Red Wolves yesterday and sent someone immediately to lock me into a contract today?”

“Like I’d miss the chance to have the son of House Kaois working under me. And I just happened to have a magic contract on hand. Almost feels like… fate, doesn’t it?”

Lestel even flushed like some maiden dreaming of her fated first love. Clearly, the idea of tying up his lifelong rival with a magic contract and making him serve as his guard filled him with glee. Sharhan could guess exactly how thrilled Lestel was feeling right now. Honestly, if their roles had been reversed, Sharhan would’ve done the exact same thing.

A chance to mess with Lestel while he’s stuck under me? You’d have to be a fool to pass that up.

That’s just how things had always been between them.

Sharhan closed his eyes tight, then snapped them open again.

“Cut the fate crap. Let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“Didn’t you say the gambling hall? I may not give you my heart, but I’ll give you my bodyguard service. So go on, dear employer, let’s see how well I guard you.”

“Honey, you should use formal speech with your employer.”

“Yes yes, of course. Lead the way, dear employer bastard.”

Sharhan made no effort to hide his annoyance as he stormed out ahead. Lestel followed with a satisfied grin.

They rode the same carriage as before. Facing each other, their expressions were polar opposites. Sharhan looked sullen. Lestel was all smiles. That smug, giddy expression, it was exactly the same as when he used to torment Sharhan as a kid.

“You happy?”

Sharhan’s narrowed eyes were full of irritation.

“Very.”

“You really look like an asshole right now.”

“And your face looks absolutely hilarious right now.”

“Fuck you.”

“Hey, remember when we were kids? I think we were seven? I ditched class to sneak out and have fun. Got caught and cried my eyes out when Mother punished me.”

“…Where the hell did that come from?”

“Well, our parents were away for a few days, and I thought I’d get away with it since everyone – teachers, butlers, servants – had all been told to keep quiet. But somehow she found out. Later I heard it came from an anonymous tip. Guess who?”

Seven years old, that was fifteen years ago. Sharhan’s lip twitched. He remembered. Of course he did. He was the one who’d tattled to the Marchioness of Ailune and got Lestel’s butt whooped. And the worst part? Lestel had only ditched class in the first place because Sharhan had dared him to compete over who could catch a skylark first.

Sharhan snorted as he recalled Lestel waddling around awkwardly with a bruised ass. He’d been so swollen he couldn’t sit down, and Sharhan had even ridden out to a neighboring estate just to mock him. Lestel’s red, furious face had been absolutely hilarious. Lost in the memory, Sharhan chuckled.

“Whoever it was, they did the right thing. Skipping class to go play? Tch. Deserved the punishment.”

“Oh? You think so?”

“Obviously.”

“Great. Because I thought the same thing when I anonymously told the Countess of Kaois where you were hiding after you broke her favorite teacup.”

Sharhan froze mid-laugh.

“…Wait. That was you?”

“Of course it was me. Who else would’ve known you were hiding in the Ice Cave and thought to snitch to your mom?”

As kids, Sharhan and Lestel were constantly competing, over who found moss mushrooms first, who picked frost flowers faster, things like that. One day, during such a contest, they stumbled upon a cave deep in the mountains. It was midsummer, but the air inside was so cold you could see your breath. They called it the Ice Cave and immediately started fighting over who it belonged to. Since they’d found it at the same time, they couldn’t decide and went their separate ways.

The next morning, Sharhan broke his mother’s cherished teacup. Terrified of the scolding he’d get, he bolted. The Ice Cave popped into his mind, so he ran straight there. While he was curled up inside, Lestel showed up.

“You said you wouldn’t tell anyone!”

Sharhan had always tried to look tough in front of Lestel. Even when he fell off a horse and broke his leg, he pretended nothing was wrong. But that day, for some reason, he’d sobbed while confessing that he broke the teacup and planned to hide for a few days. He’d begged Lestel not to tell anyone. Lestel had said “okay” without hesitation, and Sharhan had believed him.

Looking back, it was ridiculous that he’d trusted Lestel so easily when they were always fighting and plotting against each other. Still, even as the knights dragged him home, he hadn’t doubted Lestel. But that bastard had sold him out.

“You trusted me? My honey, weren’t you a little naive?”

That infuriating smirk, it made Sharhan want to punch something.

Let’s see if you’re still smiling after I deck you.

Sharhan shot to his feet, but just then, the carriage came to a sudden halt. He lost his balance and stumbled forward, landing squarely on Lestel’s chest. Lestel grabbed his waist, and Sharhan barely caught himself against the carriage wall, managing to avoid a full-on chest-to-chest collision.

But they were still very close. If Lestel tilted his head even slightly, their lips would’ve touched.

Neither moved.

Sharhan’s unsteady breath fluttered Lestel’s silver bangs.

Lestel’s exhale brushed against Sharhan’s smooth neck.

Inside the quiet carriage, all that could be heard was the sound of their quickened breathing.