Fakes Don’t Want To Be Real Chapter 10

Chapter 10

＊＊＊

The next morning, Psychke got up and prepared to leave immediately.

She wore a neat gray shirt and ankle-length black trousers. Her silver hair, usually flowing to her waist, was tied up in a single knot, but she didn’t wear her usual wrist guards. Today wasn’t practice, but a real sparring session.

 

‘How long has it been…?’

 

It had been a year since she last crossed blades with someone in person.

Yzhar had called her out to practice with him when she wanted to try her newly learned techniques, and she had spent the entire day sparring with him willingly.

 

‘That was exhausting…’

 

Not because of the sparring itself, but because she had to restrain her hands from striking Yzhar’s exposed points naturally. She even had to act as if she were weaker than she was.

Judging by his sharp eyes, Yzhar had apparently noticed she was holding back. After that day, he assigned Lenox or the soldiers as his sparring partners.

When people asked why he didn’t spar with the  lady, he excused himself, claiming no one could raise a sword against a delicate young lady. Once someone puts on colored glasses, they twist everything they hear.

Those who didn’t know the truth assumed the fake lady was so unskilled she couldn’t even serve as a practice partner.

 

‘I won’t live like that anymore.’

 

She would no longer hide her skills for anyone.

After pinning her hair to prevent it from slipping, Psychke finished preparing. She picked up the teacup Melissa had left with Yzhar’s tea inside.

Just as she moved to pour it into the vase, she froze.

 

“…?”

 

The freesia that had been fresh only a few days ago had withered completely, brittle and brown, as if poisoned. The color reminded her unsettlingly of the tea’s contents.

She touched a petal lightly; crumbling to dust. It hadn’t withered naturally, it had been killed deliberately.

Psychke alternated her gaze between the crumbled flower and the teacup, her face paling.

＊＊＊

The dueling hall buzzed with commotion.

 

“How could someone say that?”

“Ignorance isn’t a crime, but still…”

“Shows they didn’t think at all.”

 

Soldiers in light clothing had gathered in groups of three or five, apparently to watch the sparring. From the way they glanced at her, they were clearly mocking her.

Suspecting they’d react this way, she ignored them and tightly gripped her wooden sword.

 

‘Lenox must have twisted what I said at the café.’

 

In truth, the soldiers had never paid her much attention. Sharing the dueling hall aside, no one approached the isolated duchess. Occasionally, a new soldier would peek at her sparring out of curiosity, then look away.

She had thought perhaps no one would even step up to spar with her.

Besides, even a fake lady could bring disaster if injured.

But judging by the current mood, someone would likely step forward, eager to humble the arrogant lady. She was used to the insults, so she didn’t mind.

 

“You’ve all heard the story, I assume.”

 

Yzhar arrived, dressed in his usual crisp uniform, silencing the room instantly.

Morning sunlight glinted off his short silver hair, making him almost dazzling. Psychke squinted at her brother, who seemed oblivious.

He swept his gaze over the angry soldiers with indifferent eyes.

 

“Psychke wishes to spar with one of you.”

 

No sooner had he spoken than a soldier raised his hand.

 

“Wouldn’t the lady risk injury?”

 

Not concern for her safety, but fear of punishment.

 

“Psychke is not a lady, but under discipline.”

 

The soldiers froze and whispers erupted around the hall. Psychke’s expression remained calm as she stared at her wooden sword.

She had resolved to leave her family, but hearing that from others made all her past efforts to be acknowledged feel meaningless.

Her chest ached.

 

“You will not be held responsible for any injuries.”

 

The man who had stirred the hall concluded his words leisurely and instructed anyone wishing to spar to step forward.

Still, the soldiers who had grumbled before Yzhar’s arrival hesitated. Even though she was no longer a lady, the news was shocking.

 

Finally, a man stepped forward, “I request a spar with Psychke.”

 

A serious voice landed in her ears. Psychke recognized the man; a gentle breeze ruffled his brilliant golden hair, and his flame-red eyes met hers.

 

‘That’s… Aiden… wasn’t it?’

 

She could only recall his first name; his surname eluded her. Psychke, who rarely paid attention to soldiers, knew his name because he was one of the few of noble birth. Though noble, he got along well with common-born soldiers.

His skill was exceptional, enough that some wondered why he hadn’t joined the royal knights. He was also popular among maids as he was tall and handsome.

 

‘He hasn’t been at Silkisia long, I think.’

 

Recalling rumors, Psychke squared off against Aiden.

 

“Let’s do our best.”

“Likewise.”

 

She had expected him to underestimate her, but he faced her seriously, like any fellow swordsman.

 

“You may start, Psychke.”

 

She had intended to end it quickly, not wanting to spar at length with someone who dismissed her. But seeing Aiden treat her as a true competitor changed her mind.

 

“Then…”

 

Dust rose as she moved.

Receiving the first strike as a courtesy, she lunged forward.

Aiden braced, surprised by her speed. The wooden swords collided with a loud thunk, and a small groan escaped his lips.

 

“Ugh.”

 

For a moment, he was unsettled by her strength, but the seasoned swordsman quickly recovered and pressed back, then Psychke angled her sword to deflect his attack.

 

‘If this becomes a sheer strength match, I’ll be at a disadvantage.’

 

She sidestepped slightly, using her smaller frame to thrust. Her tied-up silver hair followed the motion fluidly. Aiden’s golden strands lifted and fell, his red red eyes gleamed sharply.

Her strike was precise, but the experienced swordsman parried skillfully, trying to seize the offensive. Psychke immediately withdrew and launched another attack.

Several exchanges followed.

 

“Why drag this out?”

Wait, look at that!”

 

Those mocking Aiden fell silent, spellbound. They watched a rare display of skilled combat.

 

“How did she do that?”

“From that distance?”

 

The dueling hall filled with heat and tension. Shock, excitement, anticipation – each felt differently, yet all faces glowed even Psychke and Aiden smiled amid the sparring.

Only Yzhar remained unamused.

 

‘Why?’

 

What was drawing this shadowed child into the light?

Psychke’s superior skill was known, so he had kept her in check, letting hope dangle just enough to maintain her precarious balance.

Greater shadows made the light even brighter and Psychke had to be his shadow, she shouldn’t have stepped forward.

For now, it was just a small commotion, but he couldn’t shake the feeling this was only the beginning.

Yzhar clenched his fists, still trapped in his brooding thoughts, when,

Taang!

A wooden sword, abandoned midair, traced a long arc through the hall.