This was a man utterly unlike any noble. No expensive leather in sight—instead, jet-black hair, dark eyes, a resolute face, and most shockingly, bare-chested.

His muscles stood defined in tight, segmented ridges, layered like dragon scales across his torso, radiating a raw, untamed wildness.

No human could forge such a physique through ordinary training.

“Ar—Arnold!!!”

A shriek tore through the crowd.

Yes—only one bathed in dragon’s blood could possess such a body. Only the legendary Dragon Slayer would bear muscles so bizarre, yet impossible to look away from.

The man before Arnold stepped back twice, then visibly steeled himself. “Lord Arnold… may I take your intrusion as a provocation?”

“?” Arnold chuckled. “You think I came here for nothing? To show off my handsome physique? Are there really so few who know how handsome I am?”

He wore the smirk of a street thug—disdainful, provocative—then turned toward the pure, flawless lotus.

With a teasing, unreadable glint, he murmured, “Miss Mistie… I’d set my sights on you during my last visit to Fanlin House. I came to propose. Imagine my disappointment finding you engaged to some nobody I’ve never heard of~” He pinched her cheek.

He played the villain perfectly—but secretly watched Caro, searching her face for even a hint of jealousy.

None.

Caro watched with gleeful fascination. Lip-reading suggested she was whispering, *“Kiss her…”*

*Is that… expectation?*

*No wonder I chose her. Such a uniquely entertaining soul…*

Arnold felt a twinge of annoyance. He’d promised to see this through. Still… was he showing off too much?

But nothing showcased true strength like a dragon-blood-forged body—a power that crushed status, wealth, all hollow pretenses.

He swept Mistie into his arms.

“Eep! Lord Arnold!!” she cried, flustered.

Hua Fanlin finally stepped forward, voice stern and righteous: “Arnold! Put her down! Do you grasp the gravity of this act? Don’t think the kingdom lifting your bounty grants you impunity!”

*Part of the script… yet after Caro’s words, this act feels off.*

“Then draw your sword!” Arnold barked—abandoning the planned escape. With a careless smirk and contemptuous sweep of the room, he challenged, “I’m giving you all a chance. Aren’t you nobles, elites, warriors? Challenge me. Or gang up. I dare you.”

“Draw your swords!” he roared.

Silence.

Not Hua Fanlin. Not even the stolen bride’s groom. No one moved.

Everyone knew Arnold’s strength.

Disappointment flickered across Arnold’s face. “In this entire nation… aside from the Sword Saint, not one dares cross blades with me?”

Hua Fanlin had drawn steel against him twice before—courage she still had, strength she lacked. And since this was her scheme, she wouldn’t strike. Retreating before Arnold held no shame. Truth was, only the wronged groom had legitimate cause to draw steel.

Yet the noble remained eerily calm.

Arnold cast one last glance around, then carried Mistie away.

*Odd,* Caro thought. *Shouldn’t the groom rage? Threaten? …Is there more coming?*

Her pulse quickened.

A heavy silence thickened the hall. The groom stood motionless. Tension coiled like shadow ready to swallow the room—

Then he smiled.

The handsome man in black formalwear, bouquet of rainbow-hued flowers in hand, smiled—graceful, refined.

“As the former Dragon Slayer, now the so-called False Hero… I suppose I have no choice. He *is* powerful. Strength enough to act freely. Aside from demon hunter Cassipero and the yet-unborn Chosen Hero, no human stands a chance. Before such power… even I—Aude Valentin, eldest son and heir of House Valentin—must hold my tongue.”

Self-mockery, yet no shame in his eyes. All unnervingly natural.

Then—his expression hardened. Noble authority surged.

“Miss Hua Fanlin. I demand an explanation for today’s incident. And compensation.”

Hua Fanlin froze. “Lord Aude, we… Arnold’s actions were unforeseen. We had no control—”

“Do you take me for a fool? Or Fanlin House for fools?” His gaze sharpened. “I know your ties to Arnold. And though it shames me to admit—I once admired Lord Arnold. Doesn’t every man? The dragon-slaying hero… Even as nobles—the very class heroes love to slay in tales—we still admire him. So I understand him. Especially… as heir of House Valentin, I know what others don’t. *Why* he came here isn’t his to explain. It’s *yours*, Hua Fanlin.”

Before nobles, merchants, warriors, he declared: “A clumsy act. A foolish scheme. And a profound insult to House Valentin. You have until the day after tomorrow. Give me an explanation.”

He tossed the bouquet skyward. Petals rained like scattered light as Aude Valentin turned and strode out of Fanlin House’s banquet.

*…Is this the real world?*

Nothing like those web novels where side characters blindly rage at the MC. Truly—the heir of a great house? Admitting past admiration, then piercing the truth… shouldn’t he be furious?

*Fun!*

Caro nearly clapped. Brilliant! Time to pop champagne! Hua Fanlin had helped her once… but Arnold’s plight felt unjust too. *Sorry not sorry—half-time celebration it is.*

She uncorked the bottle. *Technically* maids shouldn’t drink—but she wasn’t *really* a maid. While everyone stood stunned? *One sip.*

The bottle vanished from her hand.

“?”

Arnold.

Hair altered, slight disguise, simple leather vest—he stood beside her.

“Ar… eh?”

He pulled her close, the pose mimicking a noble teasing his maid. “Talk like this. Or someone might overhear.”

Caro went still in his arms.

She whispered, “Arnold… did you see that? Aude Valentin’s mind is *sharp*—beyond my prediction!”

“If he weren’t sharp, he wouldn’t be heir,” Arnold replied calmly. “Though… Hua Fanlin’s position seems weaker than expected. Two years ago, Fanlin House matched House Valentin. Now? Valentin dominates. Something’s hidden beneath.”

*Ooh~*

Caro stayed thrilled. *This is delicious.*

“What will you do?” she asked. “If you’re seeing it through…”

“The rest isn’t my concern,” Arnold sighed. “Hua Fanlin no longer has the courage to draw steel against me. She’s changed.”

*Changed.*

That was his word.

Caro chose hers carefully: “Well… I still think she’s decent, all things considered.”

“Only when her interests are safe,” Arnold countered. “She *is* decent. But not the woman I met years ago— weaker then, yet she drew her sword again and again. Now? Without the Sword Saint backing her, she won’t strike. She fears failure. Fears harm to her house. Fears losing *anything*. She wants it all. And an adventurer who wants everything… usually loses everything. …Unless, of course, you’re as strong as I am.”

*If he’d skipped that last line,* Caro mused, *that’d sound like a truly reliable man.*