episode_0004

When I first met the 5th Prince, only one thought crossed my mind.

“Ah, it’s Ellen.”

What a relief.

Those of us who specialize in serving royalty must, unless dismissed, spend our entire lives serving a single member of the royal family as our master.

Though this kingdom is renowned as the land of knights, and the royals are trained in chivalry from a young age, there’s no guarantee another Princess Hestia won’t appear.

But the 5th Prince, my charge, looked timid at first glance.

Despite being royalty, he could barely even meet my eyes.

Of course, being too timid for a royal was also a problem.

Still, better that than a foul temperament.

And that timidity could be fixed—by filling him with confidence through my spectacular defeats.

That was my purpose. The reason the kingdom trained experts like me.

The most crucial part? I had to be just slightly stronger than the 5th Prince. Or at least appear to be on the verge of surpassing him.

Because I couldn’t just lose.

It had to be a battle so fierce that until the very last moment, no one could guess the outcome.

A clash where, after exchanging blow after brutal blow, I’d barely scrape by with a victory.

A fight so thrilling it would make the Prince’s chest burn as he lay in bed, replaying the day’s duel before sleep took him.

I had to be the pacemaker who kept him humble, who drove him to keep striving!

“Emergency! Code red!”

So the moment Princess Hestia lost, I dragged the captain into a meeting.

“I-It must’ve been a fluke.”

The captain’s pupils trembled violently.

This wasn’t just anyone—it was Princess Hestia.

A swordmaster whose name was spreading beyond our borders, as famous for her obsession with the blade as for her skill.

A woman who possessed both talent and effort—two things rarely held together.

And that woman had lost.

Sure, it was only once, and she’d been a bit off since our duel, but—

A loss was still a loss!

And worse—

“The way he won was flawless!”

“Ugh…”

Our 5th Prince’s skill was real.

If he fought Princess Hestia ten times now, he’d lose nine.

But on a good day? He could take one.

That was huge.

Even just once—zero and one were entirely different worlds.

From “impossible to beat” to “might win once if things go well.”

Now, we just had to turn that one into two. Then two into three.

That was my goal, so this victory should have been a good thing, but—

“He must’ve been secretly training for years!”

“……”

“Say something!”

At my desperate cry, the captain averted his gaze.

I despaired.

“No way—the Prince has only trained for a year!”

A single year.

Our target was victory in three years, not today!

“Perhaps His Highness is a genius.”

The captain’s answer came with averted eyes.

A genius.

Well, our royal family has produced generations of sword prodigies, so maybe.

“Isn’t Princess Hestia a genius too?”

The problem? Princess Hestia was also a universally acknowledged genius.

“A genius who surpasses geniuses, then.”

“Aha!”

A genius among geniuses!

That’s how he’d beaten Princess Hestia in just a year!

“I resign.”

Quickly assessing the situation, I pulled out the resignation letter I’d kept hidden deep in my heart.

I’d miss being the Prince’s instructor, but the 5th Prince seemed far beyond my capacity to handle.

Well, I’m only eleven.

My future’s bright—I’ll manage even without this job.

“Not a chance!”

The captain tore my resignation to shreds the moment I handed it over.

An absurd sight, but one I’d expected.

If resignations were that easy, Lucia—Princess Hestia’s instructor—would’ve escaped long ago to enjoy a happy life.

“Captain.”

“What?”

A good junior learns by watching their seniors.

That’s the proper way.

“I have more.”

Who do you think I am? Adam Smith, the prepared man.

After watching Lucia’s resignations get shredded weekly, I now carry three copies at all times.

“You little—”

Another resignation met its end.

Next time, maybe steel instead of paper?

Not that it’d matter against a Swordmaster’s hands, but at least it’d make a statement.

“I have another.”

“……”

The captain stared, dumbfounded, at the resurrected letter, but I had my reasons.

“My skills can’t keep up with His Highness’s potential.”

Even after years of training as an instructor, against Princess Hestia, I’d barely win two out of ten matches.

And that’s after she stopped using sword aura post-our first duel.

Still, getting here took everything I had.

Yet he’s caught up.

Not surpassed—he’s still far behind.

But in just a year, the 5th Prince has reached a point where he can see my back.

“Some people progress fast early on.”

“True.”

In life’s long marathon, some sprint ahead at the start.

Many of them burn out and fall behind.

But you can tell.

No—you have to tell.

“But the Prince isn’t one of those, right?”

As someone who’s crossed blades with him, I know.

This kid’s on another level.

On day one, he could barely grip a sword. The next? Swinging it like he’d done it for years.

By month one, he moved like he’d trained for a year.

By six months? I started feeling nervous.

“Our Prince is fast at the start, fast in the middle, and will probably be fast at the end too.”

Compared to him, my only edge was an extremely fast start.

If you asked whether I had no talent for the sword, I’d say no—but my real advantage was skipping childhood frivolity thanks to my mental age.

While others were still learning to stand, I was already running.

“Sadly, I think this is my limit.”

My talent only goes so far.

So I handed over my resignation—without a shred of regret.

—

Watching Adam present his resignation so earnestly, Captain Carrix thought:

‘He’s not wrong.’

As a Swordmaster who’d reached the pinnacle of swordsmanship, Carrix could see it too.

Prince Ellen’s talent wasn’t just genius-level—it was monstrous.

By comparison, Adam’s sword talent fell just short of genius.

Only his maturity and relentless effort let him keep up with those called prodigies.

That’s why Carrix could say with certainty:

‘Ellen needs Adam.’

In this kingdom of knights, countless children trained with swords.

Many realized their talent young and were hailed as geniuses.

But “genius” is relative.

If Ellen kept growing as he was—no, even at half his current pace—the kingdom’s famed geniuses would all become mediocrities.

‘The higher you stand, the harder the fall.’

Many geniuses would crumble before Ellen’s talent.

A few might rise stronger, but it’d take time.

Adam was different.

‘He’s not broken by his limits.’

He’d rationally concluded he couldn’t fulfill his role anymore.

Simply put, he judged his talent insufficient to match the Prince.

Yet despite witnessing that brilliance up close, he remained unshaken.

Was that the mindset of a good knight? Absolutely not.

Not breaking meant he’d never had a swordsman’s pride or competitive spirit to begin with.

‘But.’

In this kingdom—no, in this era—was there anyone with talent comparable to Prince Ellen’s?

‘Unlikely.’

Even if such a genius existed, they’d seek glory for themselves, not volunteer to be a royal punching bag.

‘We can’t lose him!’

What mattered was an unbreakable punching bag—no, a spirit that wouldn’t shatter even under that overwhelming talent!

And until the moment he submitted his resignation, Adam had shown exactly that.

So—

“Double your base pay.”

“……”

Carrix set aside the resignation and pulled out a contract.

“Are you trying to buy me with money?”

“Triple.”

“…That won’t suddenly give me talent.”

“Top-tier potions provided.”

“Ahem. Even so—”

“Exclusive access to the finest instructors.”

“Talent is still—”

“Performance bonuses for keeping up with His Highness.”

“……”

Adam’s eyes darted back and forth.

By now, he looked tempted but conflicted.

‘Is the Smith House that hard up?’

Royal investigations showed it was a minor house compared to famous earldoms.

But an earldom was still an earldom.

The first gate to high nobility—one of only 48 such families in the kingdom.

Barring major scandals, they could coast for three generations without ruin.

‘Then why?’

For someone born into such comfort, his money-grubbing was puzzling.

Still, a man motivated by money was the easiest to handle.

“Even if you fail, we won’t reclaim the pay.”

If even this couldn’t keep him, it was simply impossible.

Carrix knew Adam well—he might lack talent, but he delivered for what he was paid.

“Just… stay by His Highness’s side. Keep him from growing complacent.”

Not that Prince Ellen seemed the type, but human nature was unpredictable.

Overwhelming talent could breed arrogance or lead one astray.

Even if Adam couldn’t be the pacemaker, being a good friend with a positive influence would suffice.

“Me?”

“Yes.”

Adam looked doubtful, which only satisfied Carrix more.

No other instructor had worked as hard as Adam.

Plenty of swordsmen were studious, but few took the job of instructing seriously.

‘If anything, treating it too much like a job was the issue.’

But given Prince Ellen’s potential, this was perfect.

‘At least he won’t break like Lucia.’

Lucia Artien, Princess Hestia’s instructor—

Even the Princess acknowledged her skill. Among her peers, few could rival her, regardless of gender.

But for all her sword talent, her mental fortitude was lacking. Why else would she submit resignations weekly?

Adam was different.

“The work will be tough, but—”

“For this pay, it’d be weird if it wasn’t tough.”

As if he’d never submitted a resignation, Adam grinned and extended his hand.

Carrix chuckled and clasped it firmly.