The Romance Fantasy Novel MC is Only Into Me

“The winner is Lancel Dante!”
The first, second, and third rounds of the finals.

The citizens of the empire, having witnessed Lancel Dante’s unstoppable march with their own eyes, no longer doubted him.
In every match, Lancel showed overwhelming performance. The rumor that betting on him meant doubling one’s silver spread like wildfire.
“Bet on Lancel Dante, and your silver will multiply!”

Around that time, the pilgrimage group began to be shunned in the streets of the system.
Those who were usually never ignored by anyone now busied themselves avoiding others. They had to be cautious of the anger of nobles who lost money.
Duke Mayril Dun’s shouts rang out daily.

“Can’t even beat that one and you’ve made such a mess? Are you knights who worship gods?”
—“Drop Lancel Dante immediately!”
At first, the pilgrimage knights enthusiastically followed the order, but gradually they began to realize:

It might be difficult to beat him by normal means.
“Win by any means necessary! By any means necessary!”
The pilgrimage knights actively put Duke Mayril Dun’s words into action.

“Means and methods don’t matter, right?”
A dirty win was better than a fair loss—that was the common opinion among the pilgrimage knights.
Petty tricks like tampering slightly with Lancel’s equipment to make it faulty or deliberately blocking his carriage to delay his arrival at the arena became widespread.

Of course, these efforts had no effect on him. Lancel, with centuries of experience, was indifferent to such things.
Eventually, they shamelessly resorted to actual threats.
In the system, many were willing to take enough money to shoot a crossbow bolt into a noble’s knee. Requests constantly poured into the thieves’ guild asking to incapacitate Lancel so he couldn’t wield a sword or even walk.

Yet, this also brought no result.
Lancel Dante always appeared unharmed, toying with the pilgrimage knights like children before leaving.
“Today’s winner, once again, Lancel Dante!”
==========
—Fame Event: The eightieth church has been built!
※ Merigold’s Karma decreases by 1 point.

The number of Saintess statues built in the system finally exceeded eighty.
It was certainly a good thing, but Lancel sensed something odd.
‘The pace is faster than expected.’

If you set your mind to it, building a Saintess statue itself wasn’t difficult.
But having worshippers come to each one daily to pray was no easy task.
That was why in the previous round Lancel barely lowered Merigold’s karma by 50 points over ten years.

But now, already eighty churches. In only two years.
No matter how you think about it, it was fast.
Too fast.

‘Why is it going so well?’
Lancel soon found the reason in Merigold herself.
“Focus on Lancel Dante!”
“Catch that bastard quickly!”

It was the day of the fifth round of the Knights Tournament finals.
Thanks to some remarkably creative people, the arena resembled the deck of a ship.
The knights were engaged in chaotic close-quarters combat until only one remained.

Though fighting with blunted swords, being hit hard still meant blood and broken bones.
“Ughhh!”
“My finger!”
As cries erupted from all sides, Lancel sensed something different.

Among the clashing knights, one wearing a silver helmet concealing his face quietly stared at Lancel.
“Lancel Dante. I hold no grudge against you.”
A familiar voice.

“Nerf?”
He saw the startled reaction.
“Where did you hear my name?”

“Well… there are ways to know.”
“...?”
He dodged the question awkwardly—he couldn’t say “from the previous round.”

‘Why is the guy who should be beside the First Princess skulking here?’
Nerf, the Silver Knight.
One of the few who learned swordsmanship from the same master as Lancel. In a sense, his ‘executioner.’

Though he was the only one who held those memories.
“I didn’t think you’d show up here. What brings you?”
“I was asked to make you withdraw from the tournament. Don’t hold a grudge. It’s all for the Empire.”

“How honest.”
Lancel stroked his chin quietly.
The First Princess wouldn’t have ordered this herself. Someone else must have—perhaps the royal archbishop or the pilgrimage leader. There were so few suspects it was strange.

“Lancel Dante. I’ll break you as gently as possible and send you back.”
Nerf’s blade flashed, drawn from his waist.
‘Let’s see what you’ve got after a while.’

Their bodies vanished instantly as they charged at each other.
Krakang!
A bursting sound struck their ears with flying sparks. Compressed air around the clashing blades caused a shockwave.

Lancel felt his grip tingle. This was a power unlike the fakes he’d met so far. It had to be. This was what a true knight was.
“So you’re not a complete fake, Lancel Dante.”
“You too.”

Nerf’s blade stabbed at Lancel like a stiletto.
Lancel grimaced, narrowly deflecting the serpentine strike.
‘Still just as disgusting to watch.’

It was the Nerf from his memories—his sword and temper were polar opposites to Lancel’s.
Nerf was a born talent for stabbing and slashing people. If not a knight, it was questionable what he would be.
In the past, Lancel struggled against Nerf’s blade every time, but now—

“...!”
Lancel charged straight at him.
He barely grazed Nerf’s blade’s path.

Grabbing Nerf’s collar, he slammed him onto the ground with all his might. Wood splintered, sending shards flying.
“Ugh!”
Nerf, thrown from Lancel’s back, hastily tried to stand but it was too late. Lancel’s blade /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ was already pointed at his neck.

“You’re bleeding. What are you going to do about it?”
Lancel frowned and pointed to his chest. Nerf’s blade had grazed him, leaving a long scar.
Helmet removed, Nerf looked at him in disbelief.

“Feeling a bit better?”
“Seems like it.”
“How about now? How about now?”

“Hmm.”
Merigold, hearing that Lancel was wounded, had been desperately trying to cast Heal for over 30 minutes.
“Ughughughugh!”

Will it work?
While Merigold strained to summon recovery power, Baron Ibil Shen at the coachman’s stone spoke up.
“No matter how much I think about it, it’s truly miraculous.”

“...?”
“Mary isn’t ordinary. I don’t know how many people crowd the church at dawn prayers these days.”
So she’s become popular?

Lancel, who’d never been diligent enough to attend Merigold’s dawn prayers since morning, barely listened.
It had already been months since Baron Ibil Shen’s worship of Merigold began.
“Sick people say their bodies feel a bit better just by hearing Mary’s prayers. I was skeptical at first, but seeing the rumors spread, I began to believe. I wasn’t the only one feeling it.”

“…Sounds like some kind of cult.”
Lancel muttered to himself.
Merigold’s morning prayers were nothing special.

She simply went to the Saintess Church in the system’s center and mumbled prayers she knew before returning.
There was even a lack of variation—after hearing it a few times, everyone noticed the same phrases repeated.
And yet people’s bodies healed?

If true, Merigold was the Saintess descended in this era.
Lancel took it lightly as typical Baron Ibil Shen exaggeration.
“Not long ago, my ankle twisted, and after hearing Mary’s prayers, it felt better. Really.”

“Who cares what you say.”
“You should try it sometime. It’s really miraculous.”
Lancel silently watched Merigold desperately trying to cast Heal before him.

‘Only 120 left, huh.’
Back home, while undressing, he noticed something and stiffened.
“What’s this?”

Lancel touched the scratch from Nerf.
The tingling on his chest had almost completely healed. Only a slight bloodstain remained on his clothes.
It wasn’t a deep wound, but not something that would vanish in half a day.

Lancel grabbed a dagger from his belt and quickly found Merigold. He shook the one sleeping on the bed awake.
“Ugh?”
“Ugh, want to try casting Heal?”

He showed her a small scratch on his palm, freshly made with the dagger.
In a daze, Merigold reached out toward Lancel’s hand.
“Uuum...!”

She furrowed her brows and began to concentrate. Merigold thought Heal meant squeezing all her energy out.
Naturally, nothing happened to the wound for a while.
But after about three minutes—

“...!”
Slowly, the bleeding stopped and the wound began to close. Though painfully slow, the healing was clear.
“It’s Heal.”

Though the effect was minimal.
It was very different from the game’s Heal, where even mortally wounded people recovered with a brief glow.
But it was Heal.

Definitely Heal.
Lancel witnessed the existence of white magic for the first time in 200 years.