Young Man, Have Ambitions (1)

About three months had passed since the day Ethan touched my chest.

The season, which had been spring during the time of the masquerade ball, had already changed twice, transitioning into autumn as the leaves began to turn red.

As the fruits ripened and the sunsets deepened, many changes had occurred for both Ethan and me.

First of all. I had finally shed my identity as a commoner maid and was granted the noble title of a baronet’s daughter.

The family name remained Rosewood, my original surname.

And the names of my fake parents, created to validate my identity, were set as Louis Rosewood and Marianne Rosewood.

Of course, neither of them were real people-they were merely formalities, existing only as ghostly figures.

Given that I, the only real person in this arrangement, was also an outsider and not an actual noble, my status was essentially that of a “paper noble.”

Still, since my status had Princess Seraphine’s influence behind it, there were no major issues in acting as a noble. After all, as a baronet without any actual territory, there was no real reason for anyone to dig into my background.

As long as I didn’t misuse it and only used it for attending the academy, there shouldn’t be any problems.

By the way, my name had also changed slightly to sound more aristocratic, with a middle name added.

Lilith Blackwood Rosewood.

This was done by inserting my original family name, Blackwood, as a middle name. Since this was the most common way to structure noble names, I didn’t overthink it.

Ethan seemed a bit flustered when he first heard the middle name I chose.

“Lilith Blackwood… Lilith Blackwood… Lilith Blackwood…”

He kept repeating my name and middle name as if entranced, so at first, I thought he meant I shouldn’t use it.

But when I tried to change it, he said it was fine as it was, so I kept it.

It might have been a bit awkward for a personal maid to use her master’s surname as her middle name, but since I was technically a branch family noble, it wasn’t a major issue.

In fact, this middle name would serve as clear proof of my relationship with Ethan.

It would definitely deter any idiots who might think they could mess with me just because I was a mere baronet’s daughter and a maid.

As for Ethan…

Not much had changed for him over the past three months.

He continued his daily training and studies as usual, and his interactions with me remained the same as before.

The only noticeable difference was that he had gained a bit more muscle. His height, however, was still the same-just slightly taller than me.

It seemed his growth spurt had ended, so he probably wouldn’t grow any taller.

And as for the strange behavior he displayed for three days after touching my chest… it had noticeably decreased after I set a new condition.

At the very least, he no longer got distracted during sword training with Harold because he was too busy thinking about my chest.

“…Maid.”

“Yes, Young Master.”

“Today is the sixth day, so it’s the day for my sword training with Father…”

“Yes, I’m aware.”

“……You’ll come watch, right?”

“Why would you even ask something so obvious?”

“Yeah, right. I was just curious, no weird meaning behind it.”

He occasionally made overtly suggestive remarks like this, but…

This level of expressing his desires was fine. At least he wasn’t going around telling everyone “something happened” like before.

It seemed the condition I set-allowing him to touch me if he landed a hit on Harold-had worked as intended.

‘Seeing how he’s pulling himself together just for this, Ethan really is just a typical guy.’

If I had been a woman from the start, I might have felt disgusted seeing him change his attitude just for the chance to touch my chest. But with my memories of being a man, Ethan’s behavior just seemed cute to me.

It was just the right level of a young man’s normal sexual desires.

In fact, his restraint-not using force or authority to touch me-was actually quite commendable.

If I were in his position, I probably wouldn’t have been able to hold back as well.

Setting the condition as “one clean hit” had been a good decision.

At first, I considered making it “winning against Harold,” but that felt too much like outright teasing.

By setting a goal that was just barely within reach, Ethan would stay motivated to train harder. And my plan worked perfectly.

Of course, since it wasn’t completely impossible, there was still a slim chance Ethan’s hand might touch my chest again…

‘…Well, even if he does manage it, how many times could he possibly succeed?’

It was already September, so there were at most six months left until academy enrollment.

Even if Ethan and Harold sparred twice a week, that would only leave about 50 more sessions.

Given that Ethan still hadn’t landed a single hit on Harold in three months, it would likely be a long time before he managed to score a clean hit.

And once we entered the academy, the sparring sessions with Harold would end, meaning no more chances for him to touch me.

“Maid.”

“Yes?”

“You have to come watch the sword training session this afternoon.”

“…Is there something special planned?”

“…I think I can land a hit on Father today.”

…What nonsense is he spouting this early in the morning?

Seeing Ethan confidently declare victory with an oddly self-assured expression, my mind filled with questions.

Along with that, a faint, uneasy feeling began to sprout in my heart.

‘…No way, right?’

A Sword Master isn’t just some random dog’s name.

…Even for Ethan, that should be impossible.

⁎ ⁎ ⁎

And then, the afternoon sword training session.

As usual, Harold and Ethan faced each other, and their sparring began.

The spectators were, as always, me, Dietmeyer, and one of the Blackwood family’s healing priests.

Harold, coldly observing his son with sharp eyes, and Ethan, intensely focused on his father.

An unusually tense atmosphere filled the air as Ethan suddenly dashed toward Harold.

-Tap!

Closing the distance in an instant with swift footwork, Ethan swung his sword in a wide arc from the front.

It was an obvious, straightforward strike-but also one with considerable weight behind it.

Of course, Harold had no trouble blocking such a brute-force attack.

-Clang!

The sound of two wooden swords clashing echoed as the two momentarily disengaged.

Harold, having reacted to Ethan’s movements at the last moment, took slightly longer to reset his stance, but Ethan’s skill level wasn’t enough to exploit that opening.

Instead, Ethan stubbornly reset his stance and swung at Harold again.

Though the trajectory of his sword had changed compared to before, the fundamental issue-that it was still just a simple strike-remained.

-Clang!

Harold easily parried Ethan’s second strike as well.

Watching this, I couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed.

‘…Looking at this, I have no idea what he meant by being able to land a hit today.’

Given his cryptic comment earlier, I had been somewhat tense, but the actual sparring was far more underwhelming than expected.

In fact, his usual all-out, reckless swings were more entertaining to watch.

But the way Ethan was fighting now wasn’t suited for facing a Sword Master.

A battle of clashing swords, draining stamina and energy at a similar rate.

In a straightforward contest like this, Ethan would naturally be the first to tire.

…Well, I got worked up for nothing. I really thought I’d have to visit Ethan’s room tonight.

With that thought, I continued watching the dull exchange-until Ethan suddenly did something unexpected on the fifth clash.

-Whoosh!

Another predictable frontal strike, and Harold prepared to block it as usual.

I assumed they’d clash a few more times before the match ended, but…

What unfolded before my eyes was something I never expected.

-Tap!

‘…He dodged?’

Contrary to my assumption that he’d clash swords again, Ethan suddenly sidestepped Harold’s strike with a quick foot movement.

Then, in a fluid motion, he adjusted his stance-originally set for a heavy swing-and instead thrust his sword toward Harold’s torso.

Wait, had all those earlier exchanges just been a feint to lull Harold into complacency?

Thinking that, everything suddenly made sense.

His deliberate choice of an unfavorable fighting style, his confident declaration earlier-it all clicked.

This… this was going to land.

Even Harold, a Sword Master, wouldn’t be able to avoid this perfectly timed thrust.

With that thought, as Ethan’s wooden sword was about to connect with Harold’s side…

-CRACK!

“……?!”

As if he had been waiting for it, Harold’s wooden sword intercepted Ethan’s final strike with absurd ease.

The sword Ethan had swung hastily for the finishing blow was knocked high into the air by the Sword Master’s blade.

‘How…?’

…No way, how did he block that?

Even with fast reflexes, he shouldn’t have noticed until the moment Ethan changed his stance.

And if he only realized something was off when Ethan’s movement changed, it should’ve been too late to react.

For a moment, I wondered if Harold, like Seraphine, could see the future-but his explanation quickly cleared things up.

“In your last strike, your gaze was looking elsewhere, Ethan.”

“……Ah!”

“If you were trying to lure your opponent into complacency and then strike, you should have maintained eye contact until the very moment you shifted your stance.”

“…I see.”

“Still, the attempt itself was excellent. Even I couldn’t read your intentions until midway through. …Had you tried this a month ago, I might have fallen for it.”

“…Really?”

“…Let’s end today’s session here. Clean up the training grounds and head back. If you want to stay for extra practice, you may.”

“……Yes!”

Though he had narrowly failed to land the hit, Harold still comforted Ethan with rare praise.

Ethan, too, seemed to cheer up a bit from the compliment.

‘…Phew. For a second there, I thought he’d actually succeed.’

Well, part of me wanted to give him a consolation prize, but a deal was a deal.

Setting “landing a hit on Harold” as the condition had been a brilliant move.

After seeing Harold’s skill today, it seemed unlikely Ethan would get to touch my chest before we entered the academy.

…Still, that last strike was genuinely close.