Chapter 44: Wounded Pride

Chapter 44: Wounded Pride[Quest Objective Fulfilled]

[Alice’s Affection Level Adjusted.]

[Target Milestone Surpassed]

[NPC ’Alice Draken’ — New Emotional Insight Unlocked.]

Finally, The quest is complete and now I can get rid of this disguise.

Amelia followed my gaze, frowning slightly. "Is something wrong?"

I blinked once, shaking off the faint glow of the system window as it faded from sight.

"No," I said calmly. "Just... thinking."

She gave me a sly smile. "About Gareth’s face when you called him a boy in a borrowed coat?"

A corner of my mouth twitched. "That was unscripted."

"Then please, improvise more often," she whispered with a giggle. "You sounded like someone straight out of a war chronicle."



"I merely spoke the truth."

"Truth or not, you sliced through him like a dueling blade. Are you sure you’re not secretly taking rhetoric lessons from the royal tutors?"

I looked sideways at her. "Isn’t that your specialty?"

Amelia laughed again, quiet and delighted. "Please. I bluff and smile. You, Alice Draken, just declared open war on the heir of House Valstein in front of half the northern nobility."

"That wasn’t war," I replied. "That was deterrence."

Amelia sighed contentedly. "Still. That felt... good. For all of us. You don’t know how long he’s walked around like he owned the place."

I didn’t respond right away. I could feel the ripples already—reputations shifting, alliances tilting. Gareth wouldn’t take the humiliation lying down. He’d retaliate.

Which meant I needed to be even more precise with every move from now on.

"Let’s make sure he doesn’t forget it," I murmured.

"Oh, he won’t," Amelia said, her eyes sparkling. "But the others? You’ve just reminded them why you’re not to be taken lightly. If they thought you were only your father’s shadow..."

"They won’t anymore," I finished, voice soft but steady.

She nodded. "Exactly."

Oh, I am not going to let him go like this.

He has to pay the price right?

It’s seems now is right time to act according to my profession [ Assassination Thief]

----

"Do you even realize what you’ve done?!"

Gareth flinched as his father’s voice boomed across the study. The heavy scent of ink and old parchment couldn’t mask the tension hanging in the air.

A few days had passed since the social gathering, but the fallout still clung to him like smoke.

He stood stiffly, sweat still clinging to his training shirt, his knuckles raw from sparring.

"...I know," Gareth muttered, jaw clenched.



"You know, and yet you still acted like a damn fool?" Count Valstein slammed a letter down on the desk, the seal broken, the edges crumpled from his grip.

"Read it. Now."

Gareth stepped forward, though he already had a sinking feeling about its contents. The envelope lay like a sword waiting to be drawn. He recognized the seal—House Draken’s unmistakable crest. Formal, dignified, cold.

The letter was a complaint. A protest. A diplomatic warning wrapped in courteous words and veiled threats. All because of that one moment—his challenge, his accusations, and the way Alice had carved him apart with nothing but words and presence.

"What were you thinking?" his father snapped. "Were you planning to start a feud over wounded pride? Or were you just hoping to embarrass yourself?"

"I thought it was the right moment," Gareth said, voice low. "Everyone was watching. I didn’t think she—"

"Didn’t think she what? Would fight back? You underestimated her. Again."

Gareth’s hands curled into fists. He wanted to protest, to say she couldn’t have taken down a Snow Lion alone, that it had to be a bluff. Everyone knew how rare those beasts were, how dangerous. But...

But the way she looked at him. The way she moved—calm, poised, and above it all.

It hadn’t felt like someone pretending.

"I thought I could catch her off guard," he admitted.

"You did catch her. And she turned you into a laughingstock." Count Valstein paced behind the desk, robes sweeping the polished floor. "You left early. Red-faced. Alone. And now, the rest of the heirs are whispering. Again."

Gareth bit his lip. Hard.

"Father, I’m not weak."


"No," Count Valstein said coldly. "But you’re foolish. You’ve got strength, yes—but you throw it around like a boy showing off bruises. You forget that the North respects not just might, but measure."

Gareth looked away. The words stung. Not because they were cruel, but because they were true.

The Successor Trial was supposed to be his moment. He’d brought back a Redhorn Buck—a respectable kill, one that proved skill and tenacity.

But it hadn’t mattered.

Not after Alice returned with the pelt of a Snow Lion.

People didn’t whisper about his hunt. They barely remembered it. His triumph had been drowned out by the legend she dragged into camp, stitched into fur and silence.

He had tried to expose her, tried to suggest deceit, trickery. And instead, he had been the one exposed.

"The Draken girl is clever," his father continued, quieter now. "And dangerous. You think it’s about her kill? No. It’s how she carries herself. How she makes others listen. You challenged her in front of half the nobility, and she didn’t just win—she defined the moment."



Gareth swallowed. Shame burned hotter than his fury.

"She made a fool of me."

"You made a fool of yourself," his father corrected. Then, after a beat, he added, "And now you’ve made things harder for us. The Drakens won’t forget this. And they certainly won’t forgive it."

"...So what now?"

Count Valstein stared at him for a long moment.

"Spend a month in confinement to cool your head."

"Damn it..."

Back in his room, Gareth unleashed his anger on the floor.

His father, the family head, had ordered it. He couldn’t seek revenge against Alice and had to lay low in the estate for a while.

But in his frenzy, Gareth suddenly calmed down.

"Actually, this is good. There’s a martial arts tournament in a month. With the Enhancement Orb...!" His room filled with a sinister laugh.

Gareth mind was already a month ahead, imagining himself defeating Alice.