My Ex-Girlfriend Was Appointed as a Knight Commander

Chapter 91

Marion sat inside the rattling carriage, her eyes locked with the spy, who glared at her as if he were watching her every move. The spy twisted his face into the scariest expression he could muster, staring her down.

“Don’t even think about escaping, miss,” he snarled.

Marion didn’t respond. Her mind was busy trying to figure out who could be behind this abduction. Her heart raced with anxiety. Who would have enough reason to kidnap her? What value did she hold?

“I can hear the gears turning in that head of yours, miss. If it weren’t for my boss’s orders, I might have taken a special interest in you.”

Even with his insulting words, Marion didn’t flinch.

For a long time now, Marion had developed an ability to sense the truth and lies behind people's words. Was it when she saw the disdain in her father’s eyes when he cast her aside, or when she noticed the fake smiles and deceitful expressions of the servants who served her? Perhaps it was because she had spent over a decade in such a detached world.

Or maybe, it was when she first saw Maxim’s eyes—those eyes that connected with her through his clumsy yet genuine care and empathy.

That might explain why the adventurer’s hollow words, meant to intimidate her, didn’t even register. Despite his tough talk, the adventurer was clearly anxious. His eyes avoided hers, often glancing outside, and when he spoke to her in a threatening tone, his gaze flicked toward the coachman’s seat. Marion noticed it all.

She could not allow herself to break.

Maxim had shattered the massive wall that had enclosed her world, extending a hand to rescue her from an endless fall into darkness. She couldn’t let herself be trapped by that wall again. Marion reminded herself, determined not to let despair and fear consume her heart once more.

She couldn’t let the small opening for the darkness to return grow any wider.

What’s with this woman’s eyes?

The spy continued hurling threats and insults, thinking he could break the fragile-looking young woman. But, contrary to her delicate appearance, her spirit seemed remarkably strong. Her cold, sharp eyes pierced through him, as if peering into a deep abyss.

“They said you were some sheltered, fragile thing locked up in your family’s mansion. Guess they were wrong.”

Fragile? Anyone who saw those eyes would think differently. There was no fear, no emotion that he could easily read in her gaze. The spy’s face twisted in frustration.

“Where are we going?” Marion asked.@@@@

This bitch...

The spy narrowed his eyes, his lips curling with irritation. Her first question wasn’t about what they planned to do with her, but rather where they were headed, as if she already knew. As if she could see through his shallow mind.

“I don’t like this,” he growled through gritted teeth. Those eyes reminded him too much of the Bening Count’s commanding gaze.

“If you’ve been captured, you should be trembling in fear like any other ordinary woman.”

Smack!

A rough hand struck Marion’s forehead, slamming her head against the wall of the carriage. The force of the impact made her mask wobble, nearly falling off. Marion’s eyes flickered in response.

Seeing her reaction, the spy let out a twisted smile.

“Now we’re getting somewhere. Is it this mask that’s giving you those arrogant eyes?”

Crack.

The mask began to cave in under the pressure of his hand. Marion’s eyes shook even more violently, and beneath the mask, a scar she had hidden her entire life slowly came into view. The spy’s expression, initially filled with disgust, shifted into one of sadistic pleasure.

“Hiding such an ugly face, huh? And you had the nerve to glare at me with those half-assed eyes. And look at you, still wearing that engagement ring. You think your fiancé won’t puke when he sees that scar?”

Marion’s mouth quivered, her teeth clenched tightly as she endured the pain. Thud. The spy slammed her head against the wall of the carriage again.

“You really think someone’s going to come save you? Do you think your fiancé, who probably doesn’t even know you’re still alive, will show up like some miracle?”

Thud.

“You’re just a discarded thing. Your engagement only lasted out of pity, and now that there’s an excuse to break it off, they’ll be glad to.”

Thud.

“To be honest, I was thinking of giving you a proper lesson. Show you who’s really in charge in this situation.”

Bam.

Marion was thrown into the corner of the carriage as the spy laughed like a madman.

“It wouldn’t be hard to pass off some injuries as a part of the kidnapping. A few bruises, maybe a couple of broken bones should be enough.”

Marion closed her eyes, bracing herself for the beating to come when suddenly—

Screech!

The sound of a whistle pierced the air.

The spy, his fist raised, paused. The partition connecting the driver’s seat to the carriage opened, and a new voice spoke.

“Something’s wrong. Get up on top and check the situation.”

“Tsk.”

The partition closed again, and the spy gave Marion one last cold look. The sadism in his gaze made Marion’s face contort.

“I’ll be back to finish our little lesson,” he sneered before disappearing.

Clatter.

The carriage continued its journey. Marion slowly rose, searching for the mask that had fallen to the floor. The mask, the barrier that had protected her from the world, lay there, distorted and ruined. Despite her resolve to remain strong, she felt her long-hidden self exposed. She reached for the mask, but its shape was so broken it couldn’t be worn anymore.

Holding the useless mask in her hands, Marion’s shoulders trembled. The voice telling her she was worthless echoed in her mind. The wall she had worked so hard to tear down was building itself up again, brick by brick.

No one’s coming to save you. Who would save someone like you? You’re useless.

You can’t do anything. Just sit there and grovel like you did for your father.

The hateful words from her siblings played in her head, and Marion clung to the broken mask as if it were her only refuge.

Blocked again. The knight’s blade, like the head of a snake, suddenly shifted direction, aiming for Maxim’s side. To the knight’s surprise, Maxim anticipated the feint and blocked it with ease. For a moment, the knight’s hand trembled in disbelief.

Twice was a coincidence. There wouldn’t be a third.

The knight thrust his sword again.

It was blocked. Again.

Despite the continuous barrage, Maxim’s defensive posture didn’t waver. The knight’s frustration boiled over, but he couldn’t stop now.

Blocked. Parried.

The knight’s face twisted in rage. His arms blurred with speed, each strike becoming faster and sharper. His skill only grew as he fought, his movements more refined. He was no longer aiming to injure—his attacks were purely lethal.

Each strike was honed by a lifetime of training. His sword carried with it the moments when he first learned the Bening style, when he received his sword from Leon Bening, when the count personally taught him the way of the sword.

But still, blocked. Parried. Deflected.

His attacks, which should have been unstoppable, now found nothing but empty air.

“A...”

The knight exhaled in disbelief, the metallic scent of blood and steel heavy in his nostrils. This couldn’t be happening.

“I’ll kill you...!!”

Mana surged through his heart, the force manifesting physically. With a roar, the knight’s aura turned red. The sheer power of it shattered the ground beneath him. His expression twisted with rage as the red aura-covered blade targeted Maxim.

There was no blocking that blade. If Maxim tried, his sword would be cut in two.

So instead—

He deflected it.

The knight’s aura-laden blade swung through the air, a force capable of turning the street to rubble, but it didn’t hit anything. Maxim, his hood now fully removed, met the knight’s eyes. His gaze seemed to say, How futile.

The knight’s confidence crumbled.

His aura faltered. He was experiencing every knight’s worst nightmare—his sword, his years of training, were being denied. Maxim was delivering him the most terrible death a knight could face. The knight had walked straight into the abyss of despair.

As he realized his final attack would fail, the knight poured everything he had left into his aura. With one final, desperate strike, he threw everything at Maxim.

“Willow,” Maxim muttered softly, reciting the name of the sword technique his master had first taught him. The flow of mana followed the path of the sword, but aura wasn’t needed—after all, elves couldn’t produce aura in the first place.

The sword of the forest danced like the gentle wind. The ferocious red aura was swallowed by the graceful movement. It felt as if the scent of the forest breeze itself was being carried through the air.

Cling.

A short metallic sound echoed, the result of the first exchange. Maxim sheathed his sword after slicing through the knight’s aura and shattering his blade.

“Who... are you...?”

The knight’s final words trailed off as his body was covered in countless thin red lines.

A fountain of blood sprayed into the air like the delicate branches of a willow tree swaying in the wind.

==

It was dark.

Marion closed her eyes, covered her ears, and let herself be consumed by the darkness. The world outside was filled with chaotic noise, but the shadows creeping back into her soul were far deeper.

The world was shaking, and the walls she had once torn down were being rebuilt, thicker than before.

No...

A faint voice within her screamed, but Marion couldn’t hear it. The desperate cry never reached her. Instead, it was swallowed by the darkness, lost without even an echo.

She was weak. Right now, she was too weak.

All she wanted was to see that one person she missed so much.

“Maxim...”

“Yeah.”

A voice responded. Was it an illusion? Was the encroaching darkness offering her one last act of mercy? Marion, her voice trembling, called out his name again and again. She feared that if she stopped, the voice would disappear.

“Maxim...!”

“Marion.”

The voice was closer now. Marion’s trembling hand reached out.

She touched him.

He was there. His tattered hood still clung to his head, and his golden eyes—those warm, sunset-hued eyes—gazed at her with gentle concern.

Marion’s eyes widened.

The focus she had lost to the shadows returned. Her tear-filled blue eyes confirmed the reality in front of her. Her sight and the sensation of his touch both told her the truth.

“Maxim. Is it really you? Am I seeing this right?”

“Yes, Marion. It’s me.”

I’m sorry I’m late.

At those final words, Marion’s tears, which had been welling up in her eyes, finally spilled over.