"Young Master, the pressure is immense. Think of your back; you absolutely have to win," Trillian said gloatingly.
Draco sighed and bargained, "If I win, is there any reward?"
Windsor listened from the side, finding it amusing: Beat me? Those two sword swings he just made clearly showed he was a complete novice; his footwork, grip, and stance were all full of flaws.
Looks like this gentleman is destined to sleep on the sofa tonight. Fine, let his wife vent her anger, and I'll earn some extra cash.
"No," Hermione said expressionlessly.
"... Wife, you can't expect a horse to run without feeding it, can you?" Draco continued to bargain.
"Young Master, what reward do you desire? Tell me."
Hermione shot a glare at Trillian.
"Just kidding, just kidding..." Trillian chuckled awkwardly.
"All you ever think about is rewards. I'm your wife, you have to listen to me." Hermione adopted the air of a mistress of the house.
"Fine, fine, my wife's the boss, I'll do as you say." Draco shrugged helplessly.
After agreeing on the plan, the two changed into fencing uniforms and put on protective gear.
Windsor's figure, encased in professional fencing attire, was even more breathtaking, with her pert buttocks, slender waist, and curves that, though restrained by protective gear, still seemed to burst forth...
Draco also had an outstanding physique, with a tall and straight posture, broad shoulders, and a narrow waist. Against the backdrop of his white fencing uniform, he appeared to have broad shoulders, a slender waist, and long legs. Combined with his handsome face and nonchalant expression, he possessed a unique charm.
The two men, swords in hand, stepped onto the piste and assumed their stances.
Windsor's stance was standard yet aggressive, the tip of his sword pointed directly at Draco, his body leaning forward, his center of gravity steady, his eyes sharp, his muscles poised to strike, resembling that of a seasoned warrior.
Draco remained casual, merely gripping his sword loosely with the tip pointing diagonally at the ground, as if he wasn't there to duel.
"My husband is incredibly wealthy," Hermione said with an unchanged smile, "But only if you surpass him first."
"It's a deal." Windsor smiled. Sure enough, she still had to make money off the rich. She didn't consider Draco a real opponent; she just thought this pretty lady wanted to teach her husband a lesson. She figured this money would be easy to earn.
Having reached an agreement, Hermione's gaze fell on Draco, and she dropped a bombshell. "Honey, you'd better do your best, or you'll have to... sleep on the sofa tonight."
"Sir, you seem quite confident. Could you let me pass later?" Windsor looked at Draco's overly relaxed, even somewhat amateurish, stance, a hint of interest curving her lips beneath her mask, her tone tinged with a touch of teasing.
"For the coach to say something like that, it seems you did it on purpose, right? Are you trying to lower my guard, or do you simply think... victory is assured?" Draco's lips curled into a smile.
"Haha, you saw right through me? You look like a complete beginner. Let's begin, one person, one game, five points each." Windsor's laughter carried a relaxed confidence.
As the match began, Windsor didn't use her usual probing footwork. Instead, she casually slid forward a step and thrust her sabre straight at Draco's arm in a standard straight line—a simple, quick, and deadly scoring move that would leave a novice with no time to react.
However, just as the tip of her sword was about to touch Draco's arm guards, he suddenly attacked. Draco flicked his wrist, and the sword thrust out at an extremely tricky angle, striking Windsor's breastplate.
With a soft "whoosh," the tip of the sword struck its target precisely. Draco's helmet flashed a green light, indicating a score, while Windsor remained unresponsive.
Windsor remained in her thrusting stance, the tip of her sword hovering a few centimeters from Draco's arm, completely stunned.
The eyes beneath the face shield were wide open.
what happened?
She didn't even see what the other person was doing.
I clearly attacked first, and at a considerable speed, so how could I have been outmaneuvered by a counter-attack? And with such precision and effectiveness?
After a few seconds of hesitation, Draco gracefully sheathed his sword. He turned his head and looked through his mask at Hermione was standing beside him watching the fight.
"Honey, you don't have to sleep on the sofa anymore, right?"
"Young Master is amazing! His moves were so fast and accurate, he doesn't seem like a novice at all. He took the first point right away, it's incredible!" Trillian praised as always.
"What's there to be smug about? It's a one-on-one game, you have to win in five rounds. Don't think I don't know the rules," Hermione said, pouring cold water on the idea.
Windsor snapped out of her daze, sheathed her sword, shook her head to dispel the momentary confusion, and echoed Hermione's words.
"This young lady is right, the game is about winning five points. I was careless just now, let's continue." Windsor attributed the point loss to her underestimation of her opponent and her opponent's luck.
"Is that so?" Draco shrugged indifferently.
"Young master, I believe in you! Four more points, let her see how powerful you are!" Trillian encouraged Draco.
"Don't blindly praise him like that, the competition has only just begun." Hermione slapped Trillian's shapely buttocks in dissatisfaction.
"I'm not blindly praising him, young master is really amazing! That sword strike just now was so cool!" Trillian retorted.
The atmosphere on the kendo mat became tense once again. This time, Windsor completely abandoned her contempt, and her eyes sharpened.
She launched a fierce attack, attempting to overwhelm him with speed.
However, Draco displayed amazing reflexes. Facing Windsor's offensive, he skillfully changed his sword line three times in a row, followed by a beautiful cross-point thrust, scoring again. Then Draco seized the opportunity when his opponent returned to defense and scored another point.
3:0.
Windsor was completely stunned this time. Beneath her mask, her expression shifted from shock to disbelief, and then to deep suspicion.
How could this be?! Windsor's mind was in complete chaos.
That footwork, that timing, that terrifyingly precise control of the sword tip, and that seemingly casual yet exquisite deflection and counterattack... this is definitely not something a novice could do! Was his lazy sword-swinging posture just an act?
Is he playing dumb to fool others?
But his sword grip and basic stance don't seem like the work of someone who's had extensive training... What's going on?
"You're definitely not a newbie!" Windsor insisted.
"Of course! My young master is capable of anything. No matter what it is or what skill it is, as long as he wants to learn it, there's nothing he can't learn! Fencing is no challenge for him at all." Trillian spoke as if she were the one talking.
Listening to Trillian's exaggerated praise, Hermione, though inwardly surprised and... suppressed by Draco's performance, still let out a soft hum and muttered:
"Hmph, all you do is show off."
Draco gripped his sword hilt, casually glancing at Windsor, and said mockingly, "So, why did you think you were qualified to be our coach?"