'Winning a fight is not the problem.'
Erne thought so too, but he couldn't readily give an answer to go.
Although he was an illegitimate child, from the age of eight he lived as a child of a Count and as a knight. He was not even asked to practice swordsmanship but to just fight.
But he can definitely make money.
Unlike Judith, who had a flexible conscience, Erne felt slightly guilty about the current economic situation.
Judith earned all of their living expenses, begged for food, and even provided feed for their horses.
'There are no bedbugs.'
He tried to collect his Knighthood pension, but to do so he had to first declare himself alive.
He didn't feel like bothering anyone by letting them know that he was still alive.
'If I want to stay in the mansion and continue my investigation, I'll have to pay for the food.'
I'm confident in fighting, so let's close our eyes and go out and give it a try.
“Please, honey.”
Judith opened her eyes like a puppy that had been drenched in rain, perhaps thinking that Erne's silence was a rejection, and grabbed Erne's sleeve.
“What are you talking about outside? Everyone can hear you.”
Erne was startled as if he had heard something he shouldn't have heard and pulled away from Judith.
Of course, since the sounds she made weren't particularly obscene or unwholesome, no one paid any attention to them.
"Honey."
“You only say that when you ask me to do something.”
“Then should I call you honey regularly?”
“Are you challenging me to a duel?”
“Don’t do that, just go out once. Just earn the interest for next month and then stop. Right? We don’t even have enough money to eat and die right now!”
Judith, who noticed Erne shaking, clung to his arm and pleaded. Her conscience prickled as he looked at her wrist, which had become thinner after days of worrying about debt.
Honestly, Erne ended up agreeing because it was a sad sight to see.
“...I’ll quit once I earn interest. I promise. It won’t happen twice.”
“Ugh!”
“Tchcha!”
A few days later, I was struck once by the scale of the illegal arena and again by the gladiators who bare their upper bodies and show off their muscles. They were all fit and muscular in a variety of ways.
I always thought that excessive muscle mass was unsightly, but when I actually saw him, I realized that his masculinity wasn't so bad. Well, it wasn't so bad.
“Are you here to see men?”
“Sir Erne, no, Erne, I’m just checking the condition of the opposing players.”
Of course, the fact that Erne was a knight had to be hidden in the arena, so I decided to call Erne by his name.
Since it was an illegal gambling site, I had a strong feeling that if Erne was found to be a knight, he would be kicked out.
“Wipe your spit and then say something like that.”
My eyes sparkled as if I were looking at gold coins. Erne looked around.
Well, it looks like everyone worked hard to build up their bodies, but they didn't show any bodies worth mentioning.
Heh, let me show those kids and this woman who has absolutely no eye for men what muscles I've built up through combat are like.
As Erne tried to unbutton his shirt, Judith quickly stopped him.
“No.”
"Why?"
“Today you have to look like a player who is full of empty boasts and no substance.”
No, why should I do that? I've never once been full of bluff and incompetent.
“If you look weak, fewer people will bet on you.”
If Erne wins, Judith, who bet on Erne, will receive a lot of the money.
“So when you fight, don’t win too easily. Make it seem like you won with the greatest of difficulty, okay?”
“You don’t even think I’ll lose.”
“Of course. Of course.”
“You have an eye for it, Miss Harrington.”
Erne looked strangely pleased as he said those words.
Ah, you're unlucky. I acknowledge your skills, but skills are skills, and being unlucky is unlucky. However, Judith smiled brightly and rubbed Erne's arm.
“Don’t get hurt, yes?”
Then the next round will come out, and the round after that.
Judith cheered Erne on until the end and then turned to betting.
Erne, who had registered as a player, headed to the waiting room where only gladiators were gathered. Although they were not big, they were all dirty guys with the same impression, warming up and engaging in a war of nerves.
“Today’s popular guy is here.”
As Erne came in and plopped down on the wooden chair, the guy who had been working out his arms smirked and winked at Erne. Erne felt a sick feeling welling up inside him.
“Hey, I don’t think that guy knows what popular means.”
A guy with a messy tattoo all over his back barged in. Erne was dumbfounded. How could he not know the word popular guy?
Even though half of his face is covered, he's the most handsome here, so of course he's popular.
“Newbie, popular guy here means the most easygoing guy.”
“What does that mean?”
“We’ll choose our opponents for our first match.”
That is, he looked so weak that everyone here wanted to fight him.
“Then I get to choose my opponent?”
“Haha, that’s right. Everyone will want to do it with you, so in the end, it’s your choice.”
“Who’s the best guy here?”
It was Erne who fell for the provocation.
“Yes, the game will start soon. Those who have stakes, please hurry.”
Before the game started, the announcer from one side of the stands clapped his hands and encouraged betting in a loud voice.
“There’s nothing to think about here. I’ll bet on Ken the Iron Fist.”
The man standing in front of me put a silver coin on Ken the Iron Fist without hesitation.
Iron Fist? Oh, how childish. Of all the nicknames, what is Iron Fist? I snorted and turned her gaze toward the stadium.
In the stadium, Erne and Ken the Iron Fist were warming up. Erne lightly twisted his wrists while Ken ran, shouting and pounding his chest like a gorilla, eliciting cheers from the crowd.
“Ken the Iron Fist, you’re handsome!”
“Hahahaha! Who are you? Come out! I’ll hug you until your ribs break.”
When someone complimented Ken's looks, he raised both his hands and laughed loudly. Ken's hands, waving in the air, sparkled.
It wasn't a metaphor, it was actually shiny. It had to be since he was wearing steel gauntlets that reached down to his wrists.
“What is that?”
Isn't that foul play? Where the hell do you come with steel on your fists!
In comparison, Erne was naked without a sword. That guy, why did he leave his sword behind? It's clearly written in the rules that a real sword is not allowed, but a wooden sword is!
“Miss, where are you going to hang it?”
“I, um.”
“Once the fight starts, you can’t bet. Yes, Ken the Iron Fist? Or that skinny guy?”
I hesitated a little. If Erne had only brought a sword, I wouldn't have had such worries. But since he was confident, he must have left the sword behind, right?
Yes, everything goes as planned.
“I’m a skinny guy.”
I bet ten silver coins to Erne. In the original work, if you only look at his skills, wasn't he considered a peerless knight? Even without a sword, his skills would be just as good.
I took a deep breath to calm my nervous heart and went to the stands to stand. The referee entered the stadium and announced the start of the game.
“Come in first, newbie.”
Ken waved his hand at Erne. Erne burst out laughing.
You provoked me to a bare-handed fight in the waiting room, and then you came out wearing gauntlets? Well, that's what an illegal fighting arena looks like.
“Do you even know how to compromise?”
“Haha, if I attack a weakling like you first, what kind of honor will this Iron Fist Ken save?”
A few spectators laughed along with Ken's provocation.
“Well then, I guess I should go in first.”
Don't regret it. Erne clenched his fists lightly, then quickly clenched his fists and pressed closer to Ken.
Ken was startled by Erne's speed, but his face lit up after being hit by Erne's fist coming from the side.
“It tickles, you punk, hahaha!”
He burst into laughter as if it was ridiculous whether it was a fist of steel or a fist of tin.
“Newbie, are you ready to get hit?”
He swung his fist at Erne, who tilted his head. He simply turned his shoulder slightly to avoid Ken's attack.
“What a loach.”
As he lives, he hears all kinds of stories. But Erne was actually having a hard time.
Because he had no idea how hard he should hit.
According to the rules, you win by subduing your opponent without killing him. But how on earth do you keep that guy, who is running around all day, on the floor for 10 seconds without getting up?
Even Erne himself must not get hurt for the next game. The problem is that he always fought with the determination to give up an arm or two.
But fighting while protecting your body against a weakling? Erne had never done anything like that.
“Stop avoiding me! What the hell, you came out here to play tag?”
Eventually, Ken lost his temper as he was tired of trying to catch Erne who was just running around avoiding everything.
“Did you say you like Matt’s house?”
“Now you’re just wasting time with useless questions.”
Ken muttered as if he was annoyed, and then answered.
“Yeah, Matt’s got a good head on his shoulders. He won’t budge after you hit him a few times, so come and hit him some, okay?”
“Don’t regret those words, Tin Fist.”
“Is it an iron fist?”
Erne thought so too, but he couldn't readily give an answer to go.
Although he was an illegitimate child, from the age of eight he lived as a child of a Count and as a knight. He was not even asked to practice swordsmanship but to just fight.
But he can definitely make money.
Unlike Judith, who had a flexible conscience, Erne felt slightly guilty about the current economic situation.
Judith earned all of their living expenses, begged for food, and even provided feed for their horses.
'There are no bedbugs.'
He tried to collect his Knighthood pension, but to do so he had to first declare himself alive.
He gave up when he was told that the process of proving that he was Erne in the survival declaration was complicated and would take at least half a year.
'If I want to stay in the mansion and continue my investigation, I'll have to pay for the food.'
I'm confident in fighting, so let's close our eyes and go out and give it a try.
“Please, honey.”
Judith opened her eyes like a puppy that had been drenched in rain, perhaps thinking that Erne's silence was a rejection, and grabbed Erne's sleeve.
“What are you talking about outside? Everyone can hear you.”
Erne was startled as if he had heard something he shouldn't have heard and pulled away from Judith.
Of course, since the sounds she made weren't particularly obscene or unwholesome, no one paid any attention to them.
"Honey."
“You only say that when you ask me to do something.”
“Then should I call you honey regularly?”
“Are you challenging me to a duel?”
“Don’t do that, just go out once. Just earn the interest for next month and then stop. Right? We don’t even have enough money to eat and die right now!”
Judith, who noticed Erne shaking, clung to his arm and pleaded. Her conscience prickled as he looked at her wrist, which had become thinner after days of worrying about debt.
Honestly, Erne ended up agreeing because it was a sad sight to see.
“...I’ll quit once I earn interest. I promise. It won’t happen twice.”
***
“Ugh!”
“Tchcha!”
A few days later, I was struck once by the scale of the illegal arena and again by the gladiators who bare their upper bodies and show off their muscles. They were all fit and muscular in a variety of ways.
I always thought that excessive muscle mass was unsightly, but when I actually saw him, I realized that his masculinity wasn't so bad. Well, it wasn't so bad.
“Are you here to see men?”
“Sir Erne, no, Erne, I’m just checking the condition of the opposing players.”
Of course, the fact that Erne was a knight had to be hidden in the arena, so I decided to call Erne by his name.
Since it was an illegal gambling site, I had a strong feeling that if Erne was found to be a knight, he would be kicked out.
“Wipe your spit and then say something like that.”
My eyes sparkled as if I were looking at gold coins. Erne looked around.
Well, it looks like everyone worked hard to build up their bodies, but they didn't show any bodies worth mentioning.
Heh, let me show those kids and this woman who has absolutely no eye for men what muscles I've built up through combat are like.
As Erne tried to unbutton his shirt, Judith quickly stopped him.
“No.”
"Why?"
“Today you have to look like a player who is full of empty boasts and no substance.”
No, why should I do that? I've never once been full of bluff and incompetent.
“If you look weak, fewer people will bet on you.”
If Erne wins, Judith, who bet on Erne, will receive a lot of the money.
“So when you fight, don’t win too easily. Make it seem like you won with the greatest of difficulty, okay?”
“You don’t even think I’ll lose.”
“Of course. Of course.”
“You have an eye for it, Miss Harrington.”
Erne looked strangely pleased as he said those words.
Ah, you're unlucky. I acknowledge your skills, but skills are skills, and being unlucky is unlucky. However, Judith smiled brightly and rubbed Erne's arm.
“Don’t get hurt, yes?”
Then the next round will come out, and the round after that.
Judith cheered Erne on until the end and then turned to betting.
Erne, who had registered as a player, headed to the waiting room where only gladiators were gathered. Although they were not big, they were all dirty guys with the same impression, warming up and engaging in a war of nerves.
“Today’s popular guy is here.”
As Erne came in and plopped down on the wooden chair, the guy who had been working out his arms smirked and winked at Erne. Erne felt a sick feeling welling up inside him.
“Hey, I don’t think that guy knows what popular means.”
A guy with a messy tattoo all over his back barged in. Erne was dumbfounded. How could he not know the word popular guy?
Even though half of his face is covered, he's the most handsome here, so of course he's popular.
“Newbie, popular guy here means the most easygoing guy.”
“What does that mean?”
“We’ll choose our opponents for our first match.”
That is, he looked so weak that everyone here wanted to fight him.
“Then I get to choose my opponent?”
“Haha, that’s right. Everyone will want to do it with you, so in the end, it’s your choice.”
“Who’s the best guy here?”
It was Erne who fell for the provocation.
***
“Yes, the game will start soon. Those who have stakes, please hurry.”
Before the game started, the announcer from one side of the stands clapped his hands and encouraged betting in a loud voice.
“There’s nothing to think about here. I’ll bet on Ken the Iron Fist.”
The man standing in front of me put a silver coin on Ken the Iron Fist without hesitation.
Iron Fist? Oh, how childish. Of all the nicknames, what is Iron Fist? I snorted and turned her gaze toward the stadium.
In the stadium, Erne and Ken the Iron Fist were warming up. Erne lightly twisted his wrists while Ken ran, shouting and pounding his chest like a gorilla, eliciting cheers from the crowd.
“Ken the Iron Fist, you’re handsome!”
“Hahahaha! Who are you? Come out! I’ll hug you until your ribs break.”
When someone complimented Ken's looks, he raised both his hands and laughed loudly. Ken's hands, waving in the air, sparkled.
It wasn't a metaphor, it was actually shiny. It had to be since he was wearing steel gauntlets that reached down to his wrists.
“What is that?”
Isn't that foul play? Where the hell do you come with steel on your fists!
In comparison, Erne was naked without a sword. That guy, why did he leave his sword behind? It's clearly written in the rules that a real sword is not allowed, but a wooden sword is!
“Miss, where are you going to hang it?”
“I, um.”
“Once the fight starts, you can’t bet. Yes, Ken the Iron Fist? Or that skinny guy?”
I hesitated a little. If Erne had only brought a sword, I wouldn't have had such worries. But since he was confident, he must have left the sword behind, right?
Yes, everything goes as planned.
“I’m a skinny guy.”
I bet ten silver coins to Erne. In the original work, if you only look at his skills, wasn't he considered a peerless knight? Even without a sword, his skills would be just as good.
I took a deep breath to calm my nervous heart and went to the stands to stand. The referee entered the stadium and announced the start of the game.
“Come in first, newbie.”
Ken waved his hand at Erne. Erne burst out laughing.
You provoked me to a bare-handed fight in the waiting room, and then you came out wearing gauntlets? Well, that's what an illegal fighting arena looks like.
“Do you even know how to compromise?”
“Haha, if I attack a weakling like you first, what kind of honor will this Iron Fist Ken save?”
A few spectators laughed along with Ken's provocation.
“Well then, I guess I should go in first.”
Don't regret it. Erne clenched his fists lightly, then quickly clenched his fists and pressed closer to Ken.
Ken was startled by Erne's speed, but his face lit up after being hit by Erne's fist coming from the side.
“It tickles, you punk, hahaha!”
He burst into laughter as if it was ridiculous whether it was a fist of steel or a fist of tin.
“Newbie, are you ready to get hit?”
He swung his fist at Erne, who tilted his head. He simply turned his shoulder slightly to avoid Ken's attack.
“What a loach.”
As he lives, he hears all kinds of stories. But Erne was actually having a hard time.
Because he had no idea how hard he should hit.
According to the rules, you win by subduing your opponent without killing him. But how on earth do you keep that guy, who is running around all day, on the floor for 10 seconds without getting up?
Even Erne himself must not get hurt for the next game. The problem is that he always fought with the determination to give up an arm or two.
But fighting while protecting your body against a weakling? Erne had never done anything like that.
“Stop avoiding me! What the hell, you came out here to play tag?”
Eventually, Ken lost his temper as he was tired of trying to catch Erne who was just running around avoiding everything.
“Did you say you like Matt’s house?”
“Now you’re just wasting time with useless questions.”
Ken muttered as if he was annoyed, and then answered.
“Yeah, Matt’s got a good head on his shoulders. He won’t budge after you hit him a few times, so come and hit him some, okay?”
“Don’t regret those words, Tin Fist.”
“Is it an iron fist?”
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