Becoming the Villain’s Family

Chapter 223: Side Story 15

“Vi, Victory, Madam’s victory!”

The knight, who had inadvertently become a witness, exclaimed out of fear that another deadly duel might unfold.

Even so, he himself seemed utterly flabbergasted.

Really, did Madam actually win?

‘Bart, that guy, I’ve never even beaten him.’

And it’s not like he was casually sparring while going easy on Sabina.

Bart, pushed to his limits, swung his sword mercilessly as if it were a real battle.

But she managed to win without inflicting serious injury on the gigantic knight.

‘She did get a wound on her thigh, but since it missed the muscle and tendon, she should be fine after treatment without any aftereffects,’

The words they flattered Madam with, about needing to learn from her, turned out to be true.

Sabina was beyond the knights’ wildest imaginations.

“Why has someone like her never…”

Has she never been known to the outside world?

Why did she become the Grand Princess?

It was a profoundly regrettable matter.

As knights of the Valentine family, no one dared to openly speak of it.

But internally, the Black Hawks all shared the same thought.

Such a shining talent, what a waste.

“If she were born into the true Valois bloodline, she would undoubtedly be in a much loftier place… Ah.”

“To be born with the soul of a knight and carry such a cruel fate…?!”

The knight, muttering to himself, almost screamed out loud.

Because Tristan was right behind him, repeatedly juggling his sword with a bored expression.

Every time the silver blade of the sword cut through the air, the Black Hawks turned pale as if they had seen a ghost.

“Gr…!”

Before the ashen-faced knight could speak, Tristan firmly grasped his sword.

And mercilessly struck the knight’s solar plexus with the hilt of his sword.

“Ugh…”

“Shh, be quiet.”

The knight couldn’t even make a sound, forced to swallow his pain and tears.

However, in truth, compared to the crime he committed, this was a light punishment.

Not only had he made a dangerous remark, but he had also merely watched the duel of the Grand Princess without doing anything.

‘I won’t be able to walk on two legs today.’

He would have to crawl out of the training ground like a bug.

The Hawks, anticipating the future, crossed themselves and called out the names of gods they never believed in.

Tristan seemed indifferent to whatever they were doing. His gaze was fixed in one direction.

“Gr… No, how long have you been here?”

A knight asked in a low voice.

Tristan rolled his eyes towards the knight and replied with a faint smile.

“Sir, if you don’t set the rules within a minute, I will decide them arbitrarily.”

He’s been here since the duel started! And he just watched silently?

‘Ah, no.’

Tristan had drawn his sword from its sheath.

Eventually, he was just showing off tricks by throwing and catching it, but initially…

‘He must have drawn his sword to stop the duel.’

It was as the knight had guessed.

Tristan had hastily drawn his sword, only to realize that Sabina needed no help and simply observed.

Just as he did when he saw her up Gary.

“Always far beyond expectations.”

I knew he had learned to use a sword early on, but to this extent.

***

“I’ve won.”

“Kuk!”

At Sabina’s declaration, Bart bit his lip until it bled and hung his head low.

It was an undeniable, complete defeat.

‘Could I win if we fought again?’

It was because he was careless.

He tried to turn his thoughts to preserve his pride, but still…

Even if he could turn back time, he had no confidence in beating Sabina.

Bart had no choice but to cleanly accept his defeat.

“I have… lost.”

Sabina, clenching her fists and trembling, looked down at the man and said,

“Apologize.”

Bart gritted his teeth.

He moved his tattered lips, which had been tormented and chewed up.

“Please forgive my rudeness.”

“Of course, even if Sir apologizes, I won’t accept it.”

…What?

Bart, dumbfounded, lifted his bowed head.

Regardless, Sabina calmly continued speaking.

“Are you the strongest knight among the Valentines?”

“…No, I am not.”

“Really? Judging by your demeanor, I thought you were the best.”

“…”

“I see your skills are such that you can be arrogant. You’ll barely reach my feet even if you train sleeplessly through the night.”

And she returned Bart’s haughty words back to him.

It was an expected response.

Anyone would retaliate when their talent is belittled and they are humiliated, especially by someone weaker than themselves.

This was the result of defeat.

Something that had to be endured and accepted.

“Don’t you aspire to be the best?”

“Why… wouldn’t I.”

“Really? Judging by your demeanor, I thought you were a carefree person without ambition.”

“…”

“Your character leaves much to be desired, but at least you acknowledge quickly. That too is a talent not easily acquired.”

But then came an unexpected reply.

Bart looked up at Sabina with a dazed expression.

“You have all the qualities to become the best, except for character. It’s regrettable, but what can we do? I just hope you’re not a fool who repeats the same mistakes.”

“…”

“Go and train.”

Having acknowledged his defeat, she meant he should quickly go and train to become stronger.

Bart found it hard to understand why she suddenly said such things.

Why wasn’t she completely crushing him?

Why wasn’t she binding him, pouring violence, and instilling fear until he begged like a dog?

Sabina was genuinely recognizing his talent, not mocking him.

Even though she had every reason to be hostile towards him.

This was utterly unfamiliar to Bart, the knight.

“Ma’am, Madam…”

As Sabina turned to leave, he called out to her without realizing.

Then he got up, limping, ignoring his twitching leg muscles.

At the moment he was about to speak with flushed cheeks and lost eyes…

He met eyes with Tristan.

Have you ever seen the landscape of hell?

Bart felt like he saw the illusion of hell flickering behind Tristan.

He fell to his knees as if he had just gotten up.

“What, why are you here?”

Sabina frowned upon discovering Tristan behind her.

“I’m here because you are.”

He then sheathed his sword back at his waist and approached her.

Sabina stepped back as he came closer.

“Shall we talk?”

“Speak from there.”

Tristan stopped and raised his hands lightly.

“My wife is also very considerate. Saving the life of a man who doesn’t know his place in a duel…”

He then coldly looked down at Bart, who looked like he might faint at any moment.

‘Who’s your wife?’

Sabina was so incredulous that she was about to retort that.

If only Tristan hadn’t mercilessly stepped on Bart’s thigh, the wound bleeding profusely.

She was momentarily lost for words.

“Krhh, ugh…”

The knight trembled as if convulsing, forcefully swallowing his screams.

He knew that making a noise would bring even greater pain, a lesson learned over time.

“The punishment for Sir Bart will be decided by me.”

Sabina frowned.

Tristan was digging deeper into the wound she had carefully made to avoid a fatal injury, with his military boots.

It looked like a cruel act of venting to anyone.

But she couldn’t intervene.

‘He treats his own people like this.’

It only further plummeted her already low opinion of Tristan.

“Do as you wish. He’s your knight.”

“Hmm.”

Tristan seemed quite satisfied with her decisive response.

He wiped his blood-soaked military boots on the ground of the training area, saying,

“Now, to the main point.”

“You handle the sword quite skillfully.”

“You knew that, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Why, is my swordsmanship sharper than you imagined, losing your interest?”

Sabina mockingly spoke, embedding her hopes in her words.

She clearly hoped that would be the case.

Reading her sentiment, Tristan drew a deep smile on his lips.

As if all that didn’t matter to him.

“It must not have been an easy environment to learn swordsmanship. Whose technique did you learn?”

Sabina narrowed her eyes slightly, her expression saying, ‘Are you also going to say that?’.

But the man’s eyes, laughing as if painted, seemed somehow deeper than usual.

Anger, annoyance, confusion…

His eyes looked devoured by all sorts of complex and negative emotions.

‘Is he angry? Why?’

He was always unpredictable, but today even more so.

After a brief contemplation, Sabina decided to ignore Tristan’s words.

She returned the sword to its rightful owner and said,

“I’ll drop by occasionally in the future.”

“Eh? Of course, Madam can come whenever she wishes, but…”

The decision wasn’t theirs to make.

The Black Hawk hesitated to finish his sentence, merely glancing at Tristan.

Sabina sighed and turned around.

“Surely you won’t confine me in the castle and prevent me from moving about after proposing the bet.”

It wouldn’t be petty to restrict her actions after initiating the bet.

She looked up at Tristan.

Under his still dark gaze, some emotion was violently stirring.

“Do as you wish.”

“Then…”

“But if you want to achieve what you desire, you should at least show the courtesy of answering my question.”

So, who did you learn it from?

Tristan threw the question again and quickly approached her.

A shiver ran down her spine as she heard his whispering voice.

Sabina felt her mood twist.

She clearly indicated she didn’t want to answer, and she disliked his response as a threat.

It was even more dreadful to know she wasn’t in a position to resist.

“Why ask if you know? You seem to know already, asking so persistently.”

Sabina whispered back, pulling Tristan down by the collar to her eye level.

She spoke to him slowly, word by word, without resistance, as he willingly bent down.

“He’s my beloved, who else?”

Quietly, just for him to hear, secretly.

“Not just in swordsmanship. My beloved is my will, my thoughts, and even my dreams.”

He’s everything that makes me.

After whispering sweetly into his ear, Sabina released his collar.

It was the first gentle voice she had used in front of him.

It wasn’t particularly fabricated.

Just the thought of Allen made her naturally sound that way.

“It’s better not to ask such obvious questions in the future. Everything that makes me comes from my beloved.”

Sabina firmly drove the point home.

As if there was absolutely no place for him in her life.

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