The Amber Knight Swears His Love on the Saintess’s Left Hand - Chapter 11

Marius’s face flushed crimson from his cheeks to his ears, and he ground his molars together with a visible grit.

“It’s those eyes, isn’t it?! You used some sort of trick!”

“Regrettably, these eyes are just for show. I haven’t inherited a single one of Betzyraft’s hexes. Oh, but then again…”

In the spectator stands, Lynette rose to her feet, her hands coming together in applause to honor the victor. Her expression remained as vacant as ever, but the moment her gaze locked with Quill’s, she raised her left hand. Swaying the Pledge Lock, she adjusted the height of her arm so the crowd could see it clearly and offered a practiced social smile.

At that sight, the cheers reached a new fever pitch.

She certainly knew how to utilize her own image.

“My victory over Sir Claussen today was surely due to the Saint’s blessing,” Quill announced.

He had been told by a woman who commanded as much support as the King to go out and win. If he didn’t win after that, it would be a disgrace to his name as a knight.

Leaving Marius shaking with humiliation, Quill offered a bow and exited the ring.

Before he knew it, Lynette had descended from the stands and was standing at the arena exit, slightly breathless.

“How was I?” he asked.

“Lady Juliana remarked that your swordsmanship was beautiful. If I were capable of feeling, I’m sure I would have cheered as well.”

“You, cheering?”

“‘Kyaa! Lord Quill, you’re so wonderful!’ …I believe I would have produced something along those lines.”

The sheer absurdity of it caught him off guard, making him choke back a laugh. With her expressionless face and completely monotone voice, her attempt at a “girly” exclamation sounded like the ultimate deadpan delivery.

Quill turned his face away, stifling his chuckles. Lynette peered up at him, and as she tilted her head, a lock of her hair fell against her cheek.

They were still in view of the crowd. Thinking it best to act the part of the devoted couple, Quill reached out toward her.

He tucked the stray strand of silver-blonde hair behind her ear.

As he pulled his hand away, his finger brushed against the very top of her ear.

“Hyak!”

A strange sound escaped his fiancée.

“…Eh?”

Quill blinked, unsure of what had just happened.

Lynette also seemed unable to process her own reaction immediately. She instinctively clamped both hands over her mouth to stifle any further noise. That peculiar squeak had definitely come from her.

Quill stared at her intently, then leaned down to whisper near her ear.

“Did I do something rude?”

“Fuh— nnh…”

“Lady Ceryes?”

She writhed slightly at his whisper, and then, her composure finally broke. It wasn’t a manufactured expression. A smile spilled out as if she couldn’t help it, the most natural smile he had seen on her yet.

What’s the logic here?

Watching her face, Quill decided to test a theory and lightly tickled her ear with his index finger.

She hurriedly tried to cover her ear with one hand, while the other grabbed the sleeve of his knight’s tunic, tugging on it.

“P-please stop… fufu…”

“Is it ticklish?”

“You can clearly tell just by look— hyan!”

She grabbed his hand tightly.

Her cheeks were flushed, and she was looking up at him through lashes that were actually shimmering with moisture.

“I really can’t handle being tickled. Please. Lord Quill.”

The moment he let go, her face returned to its state of nothingness. What kind of mechanism produces this result? Quill thought as he observed the change, eventually reaching a realization.

She still had her physical senses.

A facial change triggered by a physical reflex happens faster than a conscious emotion. It wasn’t “happiness” or “fun”—it was something closer to pure instinct. It was ticklish, so she laughed because her body didn’t know how to handle the sensation. That was all.

His curiosity began to swell.

Seeing that Quill had stopped his hand, Lynette seemed to have completely let her guard down. He slid his finger smoothly along the line of her neck.

“Fuh… nnn!”

“O-oh…”

This… might be dangerous for my self-control. Hearing those sounds from her, a desire appropriate for a man his age began to stir within him. Just as Quill was feeling a detached sense of surprise at his own reaction, a voice broke the spell.

“Ahem. Quill. Even if you’re deepening the bond with your fiancée, pick your place, will you?”

Geis’s voice snapped him back to reality. Panicked, he looked around to see the spectators watching them—some looking bashful, others wearing blatant, knowing grins.

“My apologies.”

He pulled himself together and straightened his collar.

“Don’t give me an apology with such a shameless face,” Geis grumbled.

“I was merely checking Lady Ceryes’s physical condition.”

Looking at Lynette, he saw her pinching and pulling on her own earlobe. She was apparently trying to cancel out the ticklishness with a bit of pain.

Again, a snort escaped Quill. Because she was acting so composed, that little habit looked incredibly cute.

Geis cleared his throat again and struck a formal knight’s salute toward Lynette.

“I am Geis Kirsten, Commander of the Black Knights. My congratulations on your engagement, Lady Saint.”

“You have my thanks.”

“He’s strong, isn’t he? Your fiancé.”

“Yes. However, I was unaware that magic was permitted in a knight’s exhibition match.”

“On that point, I shall be lodging a very firm protest.”

Geis responded with a grin to Lynette’s indirect complaint about Marius.

“If magic were permitted, your fiancé would have blown away the arena along with the White Knight. It’s a shame you couldn’t see it.”

“I have heard he is known as the ‘Impregnable Ice Wall.'”

“Well… that nickname isn’t entirely about his skill with magic, but…”

Seeing the space before him turn into a theater for high society, Quill began to edge backward, trying to put some distance between himself and the conversation.

—Just then, he felt a firm shove against his back.