The Dignity of the Omega

#26

Clang-. Clang-.

Sharp metallic sounds rang out each time the swords clashed. Enrique swung his sword repeatedly, imbuing it with pure strength and flexibility without employing much technique. Each time he parried his friend’s sword, a pleasant sense of exhilaration welled up.

The sparring match ended with Enrique’s victory. However, since it was a light match meant to loosen up rather than a serious contest, the defeated friend’s expression didn’t sour.

A servant rushed over with a towel. Enrique took it and wiped the sweat from his forehead and nape as he walked to the chair prepared at the edge of the training ground and plopped down. He then received a glass of water and drank it refreshingly.

“Can’t you win against Enrique even once?” one of the spectating friends chided. The one who had just sat down in his seat with heavy steps snorted.

“What’s the point of beating Enrique? Besides, don’t you know Enrique’s competitive spirit? The more I struggle, the more he fights to win with his life on the line.”

At those words, all the friends nodded in unison. Enrique, indifferent to their chatter, leaned back in his chair with a languid expression. A timely breeze blew, cooling his sweat. After loosening up his body that had stiffened from studying and working all day, he couldn’t feel more refreshed.

“Hey, hey. That person over there… isn’t that…?”

One of the friends whispered softly. Enrique glanced in the direction he was looking. The knight standing on standby at the entrance of the training ground a short distance away was none other than Damiel.

“Oh, it’s Count Persi, isn’t it? Why is he here?”

Everyone looked back and forth between Damiel and Enrique with curious eyes.

“Ah, as of today, he’s been reassigned as my personal guard,” Enrique answered casually.

“Ooh-!”

The friends’ eyes all sparkled at once. The lewd glances they exchanged made their thoughts obvious.

‘Immature fools,’ Enrique inwardly muttered, clicking his tongue.

The cool, sweet drink after working up a sweat was addictive. As he brought the newly filled glass to his lips, a friend interjected.

“Enrique, he was your first partner after all. Why don’t you greet him first and treat him kindly? Don’t act like he’s not even there.”

The voice wasn’t quiet, so Damiel could probably hear it clearly. Enrique clicked his tongue and smacked the back of his friend’s head. The other friends giggled at the sight.

Rubbing his head and pouting, the one who got hit suddenly stood up. Then he called out to Damiel.

“Count Persi!”

Damiel, who had been performing his duties as a guard, turned his attention to Enrique’s group. The friend picked up the sword he had leaned against the chair and shouted again.

“Let’s have a sparring match!”

Damiel silently looked at Enrique. His eyes were asking what he should do.

“Enrique, is that okay?” the friend asked, swinging the sword in the air to warm up.

Enrique frowned and glanced at Damiel. Fortunately, he didn’t seem particularly displeased by the friend’s behavior, maintaining his usual expression. Enrique eventually nodded. Even if he refused here, his friends would find some way to provoke Damiel anyway.

Soon, their sparring match began.

There was a considerable difference in build between the two. A tall, muscular knight versus a friend with a petite physique. The outcome of the match was obvious. However, having consistently practiced swordsmanship as a basic skill since childhood, the friend’s skills were quite good, not at a level to lose easily.

The swords repeatedly clashed in the air. Everyone watched with keen interest. Damiel was clearly superior in both strength and technique. It was evident that he was going easy on his opponent to prevent the match from ending too quickly.

Enrique sipped his drink while appreciating Damiel’s sword movements. Even in his perfectly fitted knight’s uniform, traces of his well-trained muscular body were clearly visible with each swing of the sword. Every controlled sword movement exuded restrained power. Indeed, he had a bearing worthy of being called an excellent male, no less than an alpha.

“Oh! As expected of Enrique’s man!”

“Go, Count Persi, king of the night!”

The friends whistled and clapped, shouting mischievous comments.

“That’s enough, you guys,” Enrique clicked his tongue and smacked each of their heads in turn. But the friends just giggled, enjoying it.

The difference in skill was obvious. Ending it too quickly or dragging it out too long would be disrespectful to the opponent. Judging that he had sufficiently preserved his opponent’s dignity, Damiel brought the match to an end. Naturally, it was Damiel’s victory.

“No sign of irritation at our teasing, calm, composed, and even gentlemanly… No wonder Enrique took a liking to him,” the friend who had just lost the match said admiringly as he shook hands with Damiel. Despite having ample reason to be upset, Damiel merely smiled gently.

Returning to his seat while wiping sweat with a towel, the friend winked at Enrique. It meant that he quite liked Damiel too.

“Ah, I’m getting hungry. And I feel sticky after sweating.”

“Me too.”

“Me too! Me too!”

The guys who had worked up a sweat whined about feeling sticky and hungry. Eventually, the sword training ended there. Everyone rushed out of the training ground, calling for baths and food.

Amidst this, Enrique walked with them but subtly slowed his pace to fall behind. Then he signaled to Damiel, his guard who was following behind. Damiel strode over and stood close.

“Do you have any orders for me?”

Damiel asked in a low voice.

“I apologize for my friends’ mischief.”

At Enrique’s brief apology, the corners of Damiel’s eyes softened.

“I’m fine with it.”

Damiel said gently. Judging by his expression, he truly didn’t seem to mind much. Enrique was inwardly relieved. Today, his friends’ mischief had certainly tended to go too far. Enrique didn’t want Damiel, a proper knight in his own right, to feel shame or humiliation just because he was Enrique’s partner.

“I’m just happy that Your Highness is concerned about me.”

Damiel whispered quietly so others couldn’t hear, bowed his head, and then stepped back a few paces to return to his original position. Enrique gazed at Damiel for a moment before moving to catch up with his friends.

After washing their sweat-soaked bodies and having a meal, the group sprawled out comfortably on the sofas in Enrique’s reception room. They nibbled on snacks and drinks while exchanging trivial jokes. Enrique too, feeling cool and languid, sat cross-legged on the sofa and occasionally joined in the banter.

“Oh right. You all know about my bachelor party coming up soon, right?”

One of them suddenly said.

“Oh, is our little one becoming an adult already? How touching!”

“Come to think of it, you were next after Enrique, weren’t you? I had forgotten.”

The friends each threw in a comment. Enrique felt pleased, thinking that the large glass vase he had Pol prepare would soon find its use.

“Your fiancé must be frustrated. If only they were born just a year earlier, you wouldn’t have had to spend your first heat with another man.”

One of them said regretfully. Come to think of it, that was true. Like everyone here, he already had a predetermined fiancé. However, unfortunately, that alpha was a little over a year younger than the fiancé, so they couldn’t spend the fiancé’s first heat together.

The friend pursed his lips, thought for a moment, and then shrugged. His expression said it wasn’t his problem. It was an understandable reaction. After all, they were all in arranged marriages. They didn’t particularly hold any affection or love for their fiancés.

“So, have you decided on a partner?”

One asked with a lewd expression. The person in question nodded and then suddenly turned his head towards Enrique.

“Enrique, could you lend me Damiel as a gift for my bachelor party?”

“…What?”

Enrique frowned openly at the unexpected request. Seeing this reaction, the guy realized he had touched a nerve. But still seeming to have some lingering hope, he muttered in a small voice.

“The partner my parents chose isn’t bad, but after seeing Count Persi today, he seems much better. And they say he performed well enough for even you, picky as you are, to acknowledge. So I’m just asking, you know. If you don’t like it… I guess there’s nothing I can do…”

Enrique glared fiercely at his friend who trailed off with a dejected expression. Although they always acted casually and did as they pleased, they knew Enrique’s limits well. The guy slightly hunched his shoulders, his face showing he knew he had indeed touched a nerve.

“You guys…”

Enrique uncrossed his legs and recrossed them the other way as he began to speak. Seeing Enrique, who was always exceptionally lenient with them, seemingly angry for once, everyone tensed up and kept their mouths shut.

“Let me make this clear right here and now. There will be no more disrespect towards Count Persi hereafter. He is a proper knight of our Shamier who has risen to his current position through his own abilities. He is not a prostitute who makes a living by providing nighttime company, nor is he an object that can be lent out.”

Enrique’s tone was strict and severe. It was a side rarely seen by his friends.

“Whether in front of me or not, if you insult Count Persi again… You’ll regret it when the time comes, but it will be too late.”

Naturally, his friends nodded vigorously. The one who had asked to borrow Damiel nodded so hard it seemed his head might fall off.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I apologize.”

“I made a big slip of the tongue. I’m sorry, Enrique. Please forgive me just this once.”

“Yeah, yeah. We went too far with our jokes. We’ll reflect on it. Don’t be angry, Enrique.”

“Yeah, sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Enrique gave his friends one last stern look to make sure the warning was clear, then let out a faint sigh, indicating that it was enough. Then he smiled slightly and immediately changed the subject.

“Come to think of it, right after my bachelor party, I had Pol prepare a specially large and beautiful glass vase…”

At those words, the face of the one about to have his bachelor party turned pale.

“Are you planning to turn me into a ghost who died without even losing my virginity, Enrique…!”

The friends quickly relaxed and began to giggle.