That crazy bastard's really lost it.
I'd wondered if it might happen, but I never thought he'd actually show up.
"Abel, we have a guest present. How dare you raise your voice."
I growled to stop the boy from butting in so tactlessly, and he flinched for a moment, biting back a groan, before gritting his teeth and lunging forward again.
"U-Uncle, surely you understand as well! Teaching that disgrace of House Argent will surely tarnish Lord Craig's illustrious reputation!"
"Disgrace? You dare speak of disgrace, when your own sister—two years younger than you—has been recognized as a full-fledged swordswoman, something you yourself failed to accomplish?"
"There must be some mistake! It's absurd to suggest I'm inferior to that pathetic girl!"
Wow. I knew he was a lunatic, but he's an absolute top-tier lunatic.
He clearly had no idea how much trouble his own words were about to cause him.
No matter how much noble society values honor and family prestige,
there aren't many who'd belittle their own kin as a disgrace in front of outsiders.
Victor Argent.
My father, who gave body and soul to the sword and the Empire, held some contempt for me when I took up magic, but he never once humiliated me in front of people from other houses.
Because he understood exactly how much damage a single such act could do to the family's reputation, through gossip and rumor.
And yet here was a mere twelve-year-old runt, running his mouth like this.
I couldn't help but feel the urge to teach him a lesson he'd never forget.
"Then are you saying you doubt Lord Craig's judgment?"
"I do not doubt it! I merely believe a trial is needed to prove it!"
Ah, so that's the angle he's taking.
Such a predictable script.
And clever, too, in its own petty way.
This boy had surely already given up on being taught by Oden himself.
So instead, he wanted to at least crush Lyriette's spirit, to browbeat her into believing she was worthless.
"Ho, a trial, is it? You wish to test your skills against each other?"
"That is correct, Lord Craig!"
"Even so, the fact that this old man teaches your sister will not change."
"Even so, I wish to prove it! At the very least, prove just how pathetic and worthless the girl you intend to teach truly is!"
I see.
And if things go well for him, he could disappoint Oden enough that Oden might reconsider taking Lyriette under his wing at all.
If he can't have it, he'll destroy it instead.
That seemed to be roughly the gist of his intent.
Honestly, for someone his age, his mind worked in the strangest, most twisted ways.
"Lyriette! I, your brother, shall test you! Surely you wouldn't abandon a contest of honor as a member of House Argent!"
As Abel's furious voice rang out, I quickly checked on Lyriette's state.
*Just as I thought.*
As expected, Lyriette was trembling.
The fear carved into her body from Abel's constant, harsh treatment.
"Lyriette, what do you think?"
"M-me?"
"Yes. If you don't wish it, you may decline. It was you Lord Craig chose. There's no need to question that fact."
"What do you think I should do, Uncle?"
Asking for my opinion, huh.
Well, that's quite difficult.
The ideal outcome, of course, would be for Lyriette to accept the challenge and then decisively defeat Abel.
That would speed up Lyriette overcoming Abel, ahead of my original plan.
And it would strip Abel of any excuse to keep tormenting her.
Cassdia remained a variable, but that was something I could handle.
*The problem is the risk.*
But for all his flaws, Abel's talent was far from pathetic.
Up until recently, he'd received far better training than Lyriette, so the gap between the two of them right now was painfully obvious.
What I wanted was at least one more year—no, two—to pass first.
By then, Lyriette's talent would have bloomed enough to at least match Abel.
If they measured their skill against each other too soon, and Lyriette developed a trauma convinced she could never beat Abel, that would be a disaster.
To play it safe, I should tell her to simply brush this off, ignore the provocation.
And yet, looking into Lyriette's eyes, my mouth moved on its own.
Even though she was clearly trembling,
it was as if I'd been ensnared by that gaze that wanted nothing but my honest answer.
"As your uncle, I'd rather you not walk a needlessly thorny path. You're already talented enough. You don't need to fall for a provocation like this—give it a few years, and you'll surpass Abel regardless. There's no need to rush proving it now. However…"
"However, what?"
"As Baal Argent, and not merely as your uncle, I'd love nothing more than to see that arrogant nose of his knocked down a peg."
I couldn't bring myself to say "as Yoo Shin-woo."
But this was as honest as I could manage.
"Uncle, do you think I could beat my brother?"
"Hmm. I can't promise that. Abel is strong, for all his flaws. Even with your talent, there's no guarantee you could beat him right away."
"And yet… why?"
She wasn't demanding an answer.
It was a question born of pure, honest curiosity, and I said nothing, only pressed the wooden sword back into her hands and knelt to meet her eyes.
The moment I'd first decided to set Lyriette's fate right.
The moment I'd first witnessed the original story's bad ending for the villainess Lyriette.
The emotions and memories from that time replayed themselves in my mind.
Yes, I remembered thinking exactly that.
That if even one person had believed in this girl, perhaps she never would have spiraled toward such an end.
And that I would become that one person for her.
If that was so, then the answer I had to give here was already decided.
"…I simply want to believe. Lyriette, that you can win. That you are a girl who will never fall behind Abel."
"Ah…"
The trembling that had gripped Lyriette stopped, as if by magic, the moment she heard my words.
She let out a soft gasp and stared at me for a long, long moment before finally gripping the wooden sword firmly.
"…I'll try."
"Are you truly sure? If it's only because of my pressuring you…"
"It's not because you pressured me. I never once thought of it as pressure."
I'd asked out of worry that my words might have burdened her rather than given her courage, but Lyriette shook her head firmly and gave me a bright smile.
"You're the first person who's ever believed in me, Uncle. I want to repay that somehow, even if I'm not much. I'll prove that your judgment of me was never wrong."
"……!?"
It was only the briefest of instants,
but in that moment, it looked as though I had appeared, reflected, in Lyriette's eyes.
Eyes are supposed to simply reflect whatever's before them, of course.
But this wasn't some physical, obvious matter like that.
I don't even know how to describe what I mean myself,
but in that instant, it felt as though I had settled, however small, into a corner of Lyriette's heart.
*No way.*
Only then did I dimly grasp it.
The reason old man Oden had refused to take this girl as his chief disciple.
The reason he'd given me that particular warning.
Sword's Yearning.
The Star's Blessing sleeping within Lyriette's body was quietly beginning to lift its head.
***
In the end, Lyriette accepted Abel's proposal.
But since fighting as things stood now would guarantee her defeat, I deliberately attached conditions.
The match would take place ten days later, on the day Oden was set to leave House Argent.
Naturally, real swords would not be used, and the judgment of victory would be left entirely to Oden.
Both sides would be bound to accept that judgment without complaint.
That was all.
"Ha ha, well now. I thought you were still a delicate flower whose bud hadn't yet bloomed, but it seems my eyes weren't wrong after all. That was a very spirited answer."
"P-please stop, Sword Saint. I'm embarrassed."
Once Abel had left, Oden looked down at Lyriette and chuckled, clearly pleased.
Honestly, I was surprised too.
Abel's shadow must still have loomed enormously large over Lyriette.
I'd naturally expected her to be terrified and refuse.
And that wouldn't have been strange at all.
Even if she had refused, I wouldn't have been disappointed in her.
*I suppose falling far enough to become a villainess takes a certain amount of nerve, after all.*
Isn't it a bit like how the quiet kid with glasses in school, once they finally snap and get angry, suddenly has nothing left to lose?
In any case, as her supporter, I felt a swell of pride.
Even if she lost this contest, there would still be something for her to gain from it.
"But the world isn't so simple that mere resolve alone can settle matters. You know that too, don't you?"
"…Yes, I know. So please."
Lyriette bowed deeply at the waist, pleading with Oden.
"Please lend me your strength, so that I might defeat my brother."
"Can you keep up? To beat your brother, the intensity of your training will be quite severe."
"I'm prepared. However hard the training, I'll take it without complaint."
"Ha ha ha! That's a spirit that outdoes plenty of grown men. Very well, then. Very good indeed."
Watching this, Lyriette almost looked like Leon, the protagonist of the original story.
That boy, too, had won Oden's favor entirely through sheer, unyielding grit, befitting a protagonist.
It was such an odd sight, and yet strangely moving at the same time.
And more than anything, what filled my heart most was—
*Lyriette's Sword's Yearning is directed at me, is it.*
An internal change had taken root in Lyriette.
Originally, having no one to lean on, Lyriette possessed the Star's Blessing of Sword's Yearning but had no one to direct it toward.
Because of that, her talent had never fully bloomed.
And when she finally did find that someone, it became the very seed of ruin that led her toward tragedy.
That was exactly what had worried me.
There was risk in having Lyriette meet Leon simply to awaken her talent.
But leaving things as they were meant she wouldn't meet him for another decade—
and knowing what that Blessing truly was, I found that an unbearable waste.
But now, things were different.
As long as I remained by Lyriette's side for the time being, her growth would only accelerate.
And since her Sword's Yearning was now directed at me, the original story's ending—where Lyriette realizes her feelings for Leon were never love but mere admiration, and dies alone and forlorn—would never come to pass.
Honestly, setting aside all that justification, I felt like cheering out loud simply from the knowledge that Lyriette held me so deeply in her heart.
"Lyriette."
"Y-yes…! Uncle."
"Hm?"
I called her name lightly, and for some reason her reply came back oddly stiff, almost at attention.
Her face seemed strangely flushed too. What was that about?
"Is something wrong?"
"N-no. It's just…"
"Just?"
"This is the first time you've called me by my name, Uncle. I was just so happy about it that…"
Ah, was that so?
Now that I thought about it, I'd never called her by name before—always "niece."
It hadn't been a conscious choice on my part.
But seeing my adorable niece grow so happy over just being called by her name nearly stopped my heart.
"Then I'll call you 'niece' as usual, and only occasionally call you Lyriette."
"Eh?! W-why is that?"
"Ha ha, wouldn't that mean my dear niece would show me such an adorable reaction, just like now?"
"Ugh, that's so mean."
One of Lyriette's cheeks puffed up like a balloon.
I'd never seen her sulk before—and this was adorable too.
Truly, our niece is adorable no matter what she does.
I poked her cheek with a finger, letting the air out, then bent down slightly at the waist.
"Anyway, Lyriette, remember this one thing."
"Yes, what is it, Uncle?"
"I will always be by your side. I will always be on your side, and even if you lose to Abel, I won't be disappointed. I'll cheer for you no matter what, forever."
"Forever…?"
I suppose even acting mature, she couldn't quite hide the anxiety underneath.
Words like "forever" and "always" tend to feel like such sweet lies, after all.
And for someone like Lyriette, who until now had never had a single person on her side, the mere possibility of losing the one ally she'd finally gained must have felt more terrifying than anything else.
Of course, someday, Lyriette might grow up and no longer need me at all.
But at least until then, I have no intention of leaving her side.
Now that even her Sword's Yearning was directed at me, I had become an indispensable presence for her growth.
"That's right. For as long as you don't come to hate me—forever."
"That will never happen."
"Then I suppose that was needless worry."
I found myself momentarily overwhelmed by the firmness—no, the sheer chill—in Lyriette's reply.
Whoa, for a second there I caught a glimpse of the villainess underneath.
That won't do at all. My dear niece.
Lyriette lifted her eyes slightly, and asked me with a shy expression.
"Could you… promise me?"
"Of course. I'll even leave you proof, if you want it."
"Then, um…"
Lyriette hesitated oddly, glancing at me now and then.
She rose briefly onto her tiptoes and settled back down, wiggling her hips and swaying side to side.
When I stood there blankly, failing to catch her meaning,
she pouted, clearly frustrated, and then outright shook her head from side to side.
Ah, so that's what it was.
Swish. Swish.
"Hehe…."
I carefully stroked her hair, and Lyriette let out an adorable little laugh.
Honestly, I'd thought before that I'd like to pat her head someday.
But I'd hesitated, thinking I hadn't yet closed the emotional distance between us enough for that.
And yet here she was, asking for it herself first.
*I'm glad I became Lyriette's uncle.*
I felt even more fulfilled than I had the moment I reached the 7th Circle.
"Forever, together with Uncle…."
Was she really that happy?
Lyriette, repeating the same words over and over like a broken cassette tape, looked so very adorable.