Chapter 300: Here’s your chicken
Paris was the least of my concern at the mont. If he knew I t this werewolf before today, I was certain he would understand if I explained the reason. However, every single one in this dining hall was the duke’s eyes and ears. They would surely tell the duke about it, and Octavian would most likely hold it against .
Not that I was afraid of what he would do to , but what terrified
was what he would make
do. I held my breath as Sven’s lips parted with his twinkling russet eyes on .
"Hey!" to my relief, before Sven could speak, Paris spoke before him. "I heard you’re the duke’s guest, and I was a bit intrigued when he talked about you so happily."
Paris finally stepped out from where we were hiding and stood by the door. I automatically straightened my back out of instinct and kept my poise. I then followed Paris inside the dining hall, looking for a seat that was on the farthest corner across from Sven, and then settled on it. My little brother dragged the chair right across Sven, not caring about the stacked-up plates that were yet to be removed because of how fast the wild werewolf was eating.
Thanks to our sudden appearance, the servants took this opportunity to remove the plates. That second, Paris and Sven stared at each other. The forr had his arms crossed, trying so hard to stop himself from scrunching his nose up in dismay but failed, miserably.
Sven was quite a sight. There were still crumbs on the corner of his mouth and sauces around it as if he was a child. I had always known this person had no notion of etiquette and manners, but it was still unbelievable and annoying if one didn’t also have basic table manners.
"So?" Sven smiled and blinked after a minute of silence since our arrival. "What do you want?" he asked without beating around the bush. His tone wasn’t intimidating or condescending, nor did it sound vigilant. If anything, it seed he was asking because he was genuinely curious, and that was all.
Paris pressed his lips before he smacked them. "I ca here because I want you to beco my sandbag," answered my little brother bluntly.
I lowered my head and scratched my temple. I should’ve known, I thought. Paris was also the type who never hold back in his words. Unlike , who was used to bottling up everything, Paris was the complete opposite. He was the type who wouldn’t be able to sche and create a ticulous plan without sabotaging it himself.
"Your sandbag?" Sven tilted his head, puzzled by the invitation.
"Yes. His Grace said you took down a few of his n. So I ca here to invite you to beco my sparring partner with little hope, obviously."
"Then, why sandbag?"
"Isn’t it obvious? Because I’m that strong. I don’t want you whining when you get hurt and run to the duke crying."
"Oh... like you will beat
black and blue?" Sven nodded before stabbing the fork into the at on the plate and shoving it into his mouth without looking away from Paris.
"I won’t kill you... that’s for sure." Paris rocked his head.
Sven didn’t answer as he chewed his food down. "Just to clarify, when you said sandbag... you want
to not move while you beat ?"
"I said sandbag because I know you might end up like that instead of a proper sparring partner."
"Ahh..." Once again, Sven shove a piece of at inside his mouth and nodded in understanding. "Alright."
’What?’ I tilted my head when he agreed, glancing at Paris, who also knitted his brows.
"Alright, what?" Paris inquired since we weren’t sure if he was agreeing to get beaten rcilessly.
"I won’t move," Sven answered as he continued to eat without care, albeit he slowed down since our arrival. "I admit, I am a terrible sparring partner. It’s better if you just beat
black and blue. I heal quickly, so it’s fine."
"..."
I wasn’t the only one who was rendered speechless, but everyone who had ears and heard him was dumbfounded. Even Paris was a bit taken aback at how relaxed the man across from him was while speaking about getting beaten.
Who wouldn’t? I knew everyone in this place wasn’t all sane, but no one wanted to get beaten that easily!
Paris frowned. "Are you taking
lightly?"
"Huh?"
"The duke said you’re quite capable. Are you telling
I’m not even worth your ti, so you’d rather get beaten up instead of trying?"
This ti, Sven scrunched his nose up before he leaned his arms against the edge of the table. He then raised a finger in front of his ear and moved it in a circular motion.
"Hey, are you crazy?" he asked in disbelief. "You asked
to be your sandbag, and I agreed. But the second I did, you pick on ! Man... why is everyone making things so complicated?"
"You..." when Paris’ eyes darkened as his eyelids dropped until they were partially closed, I knew I had to step in.
"Paris," I called, but he didn’t look in my direction. "Sir Sven accepted your invitation. There is no need to prolong this conversation since we’ve already t with our agenda."
There was a silence after my remarks. I studied Paris’ side profile before shifting my eyes to the man across from him, only to flinch when Sven shot
a side-eye. He didn’t say anything, though, as he set his eyes back to Paris and smiled.
"Co on, young master. Of course, I’ll try to save myself if I knew you’d kill ! But I’m not lying when I said I’m a terrible sparring partner. I get... distracted," he explained with the sa light tone, smiling brightly, and then continued on finishing his one-man feast.
Paris remained silent, and I knew him so well that I knew he was planning sothing in his head. But that was none of my concern.
"... I’ll surely force you to save yourself," he mumbled, but Sven smiled.
"Sure, sure. Here’s your chicken." Sven suddenly tossed a chicken wing across the table which landed right in front of Paris. "For you too."
I flinched when a chicken leg landed in front of . When I raised my gaze, I caught the barbaric man grinning.
"Eat plenty. You’re too thin I’m afraid the wind will blow you away."
"..."
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