"Return to the royal guard, not as Arsen Bern, but as Maxime Apart."

Maxime stared at himself in the mirror, echoing the king's words. In the reflection, he saw not himself, but a man who had become him, gazing back with steady, black eyes, water dripping from the ends of his dark hair, pooling like tears on his face wet from washing.

"Pull yourself together."

He muttered those words aloud. Slowly, everything that had been twisted and distorted began to find its place. He needed to press forward. Maxime gripped Baek-Ah tightly. Only the first round of the tournament had concluded; he would need to defeat four more knights before he could feel any semblance of relief.

Suppressing the pounding in his chest, Maxime left the restroom. The cold, dry winter air wiped the dampness from his face. Blinking away the sting in his eyes, he stopped in his tracks upon seeing a figure approaching him.

‘All the spectators should be inside by now.’

He assumed the person might be someone involved in the tournament and tried to pass them. But as he did, the person, too, stopped, looking directly at him. It was a woman, strikingly beautiful, with long, fiery red hair cascading down to her chest, dressed elegantly. Maxime was struck with a feeling of familiarity as he looked into her violet-colored eyes, which shone as they met his gaze, lighting up as if excited. Sensing something unsettling, Maxime tried to quickly withdraw, but her voice rooted him in place.

"You're Arsen Bern, right? The one who just won a match?"

Her voice was smooth and alluring, with a magnetism that seemed to pull people in. Maxime nodded slowly, cautiously guarding against that pull. He felt no magic from her, and her movements didn’t resemble those of a trained swordsman, yet he sensed it would be dangerous to let his guard down.

"Yes, that's correct."

The woman let out a low, somewhat decadent laugh. Her voice had been smooth, but her laughter carried a strange sense of decadence, ringing warning bells in his mind. However, unable to show open distrust, he simply observed her actions.

"I really enjoyed your match. It was the best fight I've seen in a while."

Then she smiled brightly, and the tense atmosphere that had been coiling around him dissipated, leaving only a beautiful woman with a radiant smile in front of him. Maxime blinked, bewildered by the sudden change. She laughed again, this time with a genuine, amused laugh.

"When you broke the aura head-on! The way the corner of your mouth lifted then... it was amazing."

She blushed, but Maxime could clearly tell it wasn’t out of embarrassment. The small beauty mark below her right eye caught his attention. He stepped back a bit from the woman, who had closed the distance between them. She leaned in closer and continued.

"I think I might just fall for you."

"...Thank you."

The woman deliberately pressed her chest against him, her soft and weighty presence brushing against his arm. Maxime forced a polite smile, intending to excuse himself, but she gently wrapped her hand around his arm, preventing him from leaving.

"Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Lilia. Lilia Bergman."

"Yes, Miss Lilia. It's a pleasure to meet you…."

Before he could finish, she pressed herself closer, interrupting his words. A strange feeling crept over him, bringing back the sense of unease he’d felt when he first saw her.

"So, do you have any plans after today? Or maybe I should ask if you'll be free once the tournament ends."

Even without the strange feeling in her laughter, Maxime had no desire to be involved in this. Just as he was about to firmly pull his arm away, he heard the sound of footsteps approaching from behind, giving him a perfect excuse to leave. But a familiar voice reached his ears before he could turn.

"It seems he's feeling uncomfortable."

That unmistakable voice. Just his luck, Maxime thought as the steps clicked closer. He turned and met Theodora’s icy gaze, hoping she hadn’t witnessed too much.

"It would be best to let him go, don’t you think? He still has matches left."

Theodora's sharp eyes fixed on Lilia’s hand wrapped around his arm. Smiling seductively, Lilia tightened her grip. Theodora's face hardened, and Maxime sighed inwardly.

"I don’t think Arsen seems that opposed, do you?"

Seemingly enjoying the situation, Lilia’s grip only tightened as Maxime exerted slight pressure to shake her off. He replied in a voice that, though polite, carried a warning.

"Let’s leave it at that. I appreciate the offer, but I’ll have to decline."

Upon hearing the chill in his tone, Lilia hummed, releasing him with a look of genuine disappointment.

"Too bad. But if you change your mind, I’m always available."

With a parting smile, she pointedly added, "I’ll be in the highest seat on the east side."

Lilia then turned and slowly disappeared down the corridor, her scent lingering in the air. Maxime, scowling, brushed off his arm and nodded slightly to Theodora.

"Thank you."

"In situations like that, it would be better to reject them more firmly."

Theodora replied in a cool voice. Maxime chuckled bitterly, nodding. He recalled that Theodora’s match was the fourth of the Round of 32, against one of Count Agon’s knights from Myra.

"Are you on your way to your match?"

"Yes. I heard you overpowered your opponent—without aura—despite them using it."

Maxime shrugged.

"It wasn’t easy; I have a good sword to thank for it."

"...I see."

She seemed unconvinced, her gaze lingering on him as if she had more to say. Eventually, she shook her head and turned away. Just as she was about to leave, he called after her.

"Good luck in your match."

She halted, then turned to him with a sorrowful smile. How long had it been since he’d last seen such a haunting expression? That smile, weighed down by grief, seemed to mirror something deep within his own memories.

"Thank you."

Theodora stared at him for a long moment before finally uttering those words. It was a voice filled with warmth, a voice he remembered from long ago. Maxime stood there, watching her walk away. The tournament brackets had arranged for them to potentially face each other in the finals.

Would I meet you again?

Maxime sighed and made his way to the spectators’ seating. He pictured Christine and Charlotte waiting for him, and let out a small sigh.

--

"The second match was so impressive; it makes this third one seem underwhelming," Christine said, clapping half-heartedly as she watched the winner of the Third Guard receive applause. The match itself had been fairly ordinary, with the knights refraining from aura initially before both eventually unleashed it, leading to a victory for the Fourth Guard knight.

"You have no idea how people buzzed about you on the way here. You've practically become a celebrity!"

"All for winning one match? There’s even a semi-finalist from last year here."

Christine’s disgruntled voice made Maxime laugh. He glanced over at Charlotte, who, having reached the semifinals in last year’s tournament, was watching him with her legs crossed.

"How was the fanfare for our esteemed semi-finalist?"

"Don’t call me that—I didn’t even make it to the finals."

She grumbled, though a slight smile played on her lips as if she didn’t entirely mind the teasing. Christine’s eyes widened with surprise as she looked at Charlotte.

"You made it to the semifinals last year?"

"I just got lucky with the draw. It’s not something to brag about."

Charlotte shrugged it off, her attention shifting to the fourth match. After the winner of the third round was announced, the referee spread his arms to introduce the next contestants.

"Next up—the Third Guard’s Victor Dragunov!"

At the familiar name, Christine and Charlotte nodded in recognition.

"Wasn’t he the one Count Agon sent?"

"Yes, though Dennis managed to beat him a few times."

Maxime, however, was more interested in the next name the referee would call, focusing all his attention as he watched.

"The Crow Knights’ Theodora Bening!"

As soon as her name was called, Christine glanced at him with a slightly sullen expression, realizing why he’d been acting so tense. The crowd murmured as Theodora entered—her platinum hair flowing like silk, her pale skin as cold as snow, her sharp, striking eyes resembling a fairy tale knight.

"...Senior."

He heard Christine call out to him, her face genuinely concerned, not the usual pouting look she wore in such situations.

"I’m fine, Christine."

He then focused on the two knights drawing their swords. Theodora, with a steely demeanor, her sorrowful look erased, stood wielding a black blade mixed with dark iron. Her gaze crackled like a storm ready to unleash lightning.

"...Is Commander Bening okay?"

Christine asked quietly, her eyes on Theodora. Maxime couldn’t bring himself to nod; he knew better than anyone that she wasn’t okay. Only he could see the undercurrent of unease in her resolved stance.

"She won’t be, which is why—"

Mana coiled around Theodora, condensing as the referee declared the match.

"Match! Begin!"

The moment the words left the referee’s mouth, Theodora’s mana surged forward like a ticking bomb ready to explode. Her opponent barely had a chance to raise his sword before her attack erupted.

Boom—!

A blast louder than any before filled the arena with dust and debris. The crowd looked on in bewilderment. Watching that overwhelming force, Maxime swallowed hard. She’s grown stronger. Even before the dust cleared, he knew the outcome.

"She’s formidable."

Watching Victor Dragunov fall, his sword clattering to the ground, Christine remarked, nodding in agreement.

"Dennis will have a tough time against her."

The referee announced the victor. The crowd erupted in cheers, finally grasping the impact of what had just transpired. Theodora scanned the stands, her gaze locking onto Maxime’s position. Her eyes widened briefly, almost as if she’d seen a ghost, then softened with a relieved expression before leaving the arena.

"...Do you think she saw me?"

Christine asked with a bittersweet tone.

"Yes, she’s probably just glad I’m alive."

"I may have been too harsh last time."

Christine admitted, looking somewhat regretful as the crowd's cheers began to fade. She glanced at Maxime, a touch of hesitation in her voice.

"Can everything go back to the way it was?"

"Not everything that’s changed can return, but we can still set things right."

Maxime replied, watching the next knights prepare to enter.

As the winter air grew colder, the intensity of the martial tournament only increased. After the first day of the main rounds ended, the tournament organizers posted the quarterfinal bracket at the entrance to the Coliseum. Maxime studied the list of quarterfinalists.

[Quarterfinal Match 1: Second Guard Arsen Bern / Third Guard Alphons Kiermayer]
[Quarterfinal Match 2: Crow Knights Theodora Bening / Third Guard Damian Ro]

As expected, the Bening family’s knights dominated the quarterfinals. Maxime then checked the third match and froze in place.

"Hey, Arsen. Are you checking out the bracket?"

A voice called from behind him. Maxime turned to see Dennis Amber, as relaxed as ever, glancing over his shoulder at the bracket.

"You’re up against a Third Guard knight. He won’t be easy, so stay on your toes."

Noticing the second match pairing, Dennis frowned.

"If you make it to the finals, you’ll likely face Theodora Bening. She’s a real powerhouse; do you think you can beat her?"

Muttering to himself, Dennis’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the third match and smirked—a fierce smile, filled with genuine determination, not his usual playful expression.

"So that’s why you froze."

Dennis placed a finger on the match list, his name listed for the third match.

"You froze after seeing this."

Maxime glanced again at the match Dennis had pointed out. Had it been any other outcome, he would have expected this name to be gone by now. But there it was, right there, pitted against Dennis.

[Quarterfinal Match 3: Fourth Guard Dennis Amber / Crescent Knights Javier Franco]