Fighting for Stelle

The girl's body had gone limp as mud, resting against Gepard's chest.

The young man tightened his large hand around her and strode toward the Goethe Grand Hotel.

The wind howled past his ears, accompanied by the rumble of trams, the clamor of passersby singing and playing guitar, and the cries of a boy selling newspapers. Yet every sound that reached Gepard's ears seemed to melt away, leaving only the unconscious murmurs of the girl in his arms—and stirring a nameless anger within him.

Aha: Her lower abdomen?

Trailblazer: Could you Shut Up?

The Trailblazer's room was on the first floor, so Gepard did not have to carry Stelle upstairs like some weighted training exercise. But when he stood before her door, he found himself at a loss. Looking at the unconscious girl in his arms, the Silvermane Guard, who had always handled matters with efficiency and simplicity, was stumped.

He did not have a keycard.

What should he do?

The keycard had to be on the Trailblazer. Gepard silently apologized to her, bit down on the knuckles of his glove, and tugged lightly to pull it off.

His fair, slender fingers slowly reached toward the Trailblazer's clothes.

Just then, the door before him creaked open.

Gepard looked over and met the gaze of the green-eyed man standing inside with his arms crossed.

Sampo stood in the shadows, his expression cold and grim. There was not the slightest trace of the usual joking manner he displayed around the Trailblazer.

"Let her go."

As he spoke, he rudely held out his hands toward Gepard, intending to take her from the Silvermane Guard's arms.

"Why should I?"

Gepard suddenly smiled and took a step back. The corridor light above illuminated his hair, brilliant gold and dazzling, as unwavering and radiant as light itself.

Half an hour earlier.

Inside the Goethe Grand Hotel.

Sampo yawned. He had slept more than once already, yet no matter how long he waited, the Trailblazer had not returned.

He was currently half-reclining on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling in utter boredom.

Memories from several months ago, when he had drunk Soolada with Sparkle in Penacony, surfaced in his mind without warning.

At the time, he and Sparkle had stood on the second floor of a shopping street, leaning against the window and drinking Soolada. Then Sparkle pointed at the Trailblazer in the distance, who was swaggering around with a baseball bat and knocking a hopping signboard to the ground with one swing.

"Oh my, look! Isn't that Little Gray? Should we go say hello?"

Sampo stared fixedly at the Trailblazer, unconsciously tightening his grip on the glass bottle in his hand until his fingertips turned white.

He had never expected to see Stelle anywhere outside Belobog. He had thought that he could only meet her in that snowbound world of endless white, but fate seemed to favor him a little more, pushing him back to the Trailblazer's side once again.

"Forget it."

That was what Sampo said, but his eyes never left the Trailblazer for even a moment.

"Oh?"

Sparkle drained the last mouthful of Soolada from her bottle, muttered that it was far too sweet and tasted awful, then put on a smile and leaned closer to Sampo.

"Does Little Gray fit your tastes that well? Stop looking like you're drooling over a beautiful woman, will you? If you want to pursue her, I'll help you out."

"Hey..."

If you enjoy this book, please remember to add it to your bookshelf so you won't lose it next time.

Before Sampo could get the rest of his words out, he turned, about to scold and warn Sparkle—but his eyes failed to catch sight of the girl.

"Oh no!"

The man inwardly cursed. Penacony's intoxicating, dreamlike crystal lights fell over his dark blue hair, casting it in a color even denser than ink.

When he looked back toward the window, he saw that someone had appeared beside the Trailblazer. Who could it be but "Sampo"?

The real Sampo leaned against the window, watching Sparkle impersonate him and have the time of her life. He sighed, unsure whether he should be grateful to have a third-rate strategist like Sparkle offering him so-called "help," or lament that this time alone at the Trailblazer's side was not being experienced by him in person.

Lost in those memories, Sampo sank deeper and deeper into thought. Then a faint set of footsteps outside caught his attention.

Those footsteps stopped right at the door. Sampo immediately sat up from the bed. Had Stelle returned?

No, that was not right.

If it were Stelle, she would have opened the door without hesitation.

But whoever stood outside had hesitated for so long without opening it. Who could it be?

Sampo crossed the room in a few strides. When he opened the door, this was what he saw:

That unexpected Silvermane Guard was holding the Trailblazer in his arms, the glove he had just removed clenched between his teeth. One hand supported Stelle's body, while the other appeared to be reaching for her pocket.

Sampo crossed his arms and leaned against the entryway, sizing up the visitor with an unfriendly gaze.

Hadn't the Trailblazer said she was going to buy Mulled Wine? Hadn't she sworn that she would bring some back to warm him up? So why was she now drunkenly leaning against another man's chest?

"Let her go."

The three concise words carried the full weight of a command. He was not negotiating with Gepard at all.

Sampo opened his arms, ready to take the unconscious Trailblazer from Gepard's embrace.

Who would have thought that Gepard would actually take several steps back, his sky-blue eyes watching Sampo suspiciously as his large hand tightened around the Trailblazer.

"Why?"

The Trailblazer had gotten drunk while dining with him, so he had an obligation to look after her until she woke up. Handing Stelle over to another man while she was still out of it—what kind of sense did that make?

And that other man was Belobog's most notorious little blue-haired crook, addicted to swindling, cheating, and stealing. How could he possibly feel at ease?

If he were handing her over to Lady Bronya, or Seele, or Natasha, even Luka, it would still be ten thousand times better than handing her to the man before him.

"Why?"

Sampo narrowed his eyes slightly, chewing over those three words, which carried such a pointedly rhetorical tone, with equal parts annoyance and amusement.

"Because if the Trailblazer hadn't gone out to buy Mulled Wine for me, you wouldn't have even seen her."

The declaration of ownership in that sentence was so obvious that any normal person could hear it.

Sampo was practically one step away from openly saying, "Give my person back to me."

Gepard sucked in a sharp breath, clearly unwilling to keep tangling with Sampo. He planned to rent another room at the front desk. No matter what happened today, no matter what Sampo said, he would not hand Stelle over to him.

Seeing the Silvermane Guard about to leave, Sampo seemed to realize what he intended to do. He planted a hand against the wall of the narrow corridor, blocking Gepard's only way out.

"No need to put her through all that. She rented this room, so just bring her here. If you're worried, you can stay with me until she wakes up."

Sampo placed particular emphasis on the words, "She rented this room." Gepard pressed his lips together and chose to ignore him. Turning around, he carried Stelle into the room with its door half-open and gently laid her on the bed.

Once she had been tucked beneath the blankets, the Trailblazer quietly cracked her eyes open a little. With all the curtains drawn, visibility in the room was limited, making it hard to tell whether she had actually woken up.

Aha, who loved watching chaos unfold, clapped and cheered: Haha, a showdown! Two men are about to fight over you! What are you going to do, Stelle? How are you going to win over both of them?