The Horsemanship Competition

Winter passed, and spring arrived.

We arrived directly at the day of the horsemanship competition.

The Royal Capital Riding Ground, nine o'clock in the morning.

The sky was impossibly blue, as if someone had splashed a whole jar of blue paint across the heavens and brushed it out evenly.

A few white clouds drifted lazily, soft and fluffy.

The crowd in the stands gave off the distinct vibe of a World Cup match from my past life.

To give a brief introduction:

The Royal Capital Horsemanship Competition is held once every spring and is one of the most important events for the young nobles of the kingdom.

Its history dates back over two hundred years, established by the third king to select outstanding knight-squires. Over time, it gradually evolved into a traditional grand event for the noble class.

The participants are restricted to ages nine through fifteen, divided into four groups by age, with rankings decided for each group.

Though called a competition, it is more like a rehearsal for a coming-of-age ceremony. A youth who can secure a ranking in the horsemanship competition will walk with a swagger in the social season the following year.

In the dead center of the stands is the exclusive seating for the royal family.

A crimson velvet canopy was propped up high, its golden tassels hanging down and swaying gently in the wind.

The King did not attend, but the King's brother-in-law and the Crown Prince did, making those seats the center of attention. Leonhart sat there in a white riding habit, his golden epaulets glittering in the sunlight as he conversed with an elderly marquis beside him. His posture was poised, and his smile was proper, exactly as usual.

I sat in the Aldheim family's seats.

Our position wasn't the absolute best, but it certainly wasn't bad, located roughly in the center-left area of the stands.

Beside us, several noble ladies I didn't recognize were chatting with fans covering their mouths, their voices drifting over in fragments—

“I heard the young master of the Aldheim family is also competing.” “He's only ten, right? Group one.” “His older sister came too.”

I was too lazy to turn my head, so I pretended not to hear. Otherwise, our eyes would meet and they would start chatting with me. These noble ladies are the hardest to deal with, and I have to maintain basic etiquette instead of snapping at them.

“Miss.”

Shirune's voice came from behind me.

She stood behind my seat, dressed today in a dark formal uniform, her silver-white ponytail combed even neater than usual. The sword at her waist had been replaced with a ceremonial rapier, and its scabbard finally had a bit of decoration—a silver vine pattern.

“Yes.”

“Young Master Eliot is in the preparation area. He is in excellent condition and said you should just wait and see.”

“Alright, tell him to do his best.” My words matched my thoughts as I cheered my little brother on in my heart.

Her tail swished gently. She probably wanted to cheer him on too, most likely.

My good follower Misha had also come. I invited her to sit on my right. In truth, there was no real reason for her to be here, but I had invited her anyway because of how we had been getting along lately.

She kept her hands properly folded on her knees, her light brown eyes stealing glances in all directions.

Today, she wore a light yellow dress, her hair tied in a side ponytail with a deep blue ribbon that matched the color scheme of my bracelet—

Clearly, it was deliberate.

Ah, what a little schemer. But I thought it was nice.

“Miss Loris, the riding ground is so huge...” Her voice hummed with suppressed excitement. “This is my first time coming to the Royal Capital Riding Ground to watch a competition.”

“Yes,” I replied, resting my cheek on my hand.

I only did this because my parents weren't around; it wasn't a very polite posture.

“Um, have you been here before, Miss Loris?”

“Once.”

The original owner probably had.

It was about three years ago, when she came with her father.

Back then, she was still young and had no interest in horsemanship. She threw a tantrum the entire time, complaining about the hot sun, the hard seats, and how boring the competition was.

After returning home, she scolded the maid who served her and smashed a tea set.

Hehehe... You really deserved that kind of sinister laugh, original owner.

“Miss Loris?” Misha tilted her head, looking at me.

“...It's nothing.” I snapped out of it. “Let's watch the competition.”

“Alright!” She actually wanted to say that Miss Loris was much better looking than the competition.

The first group's competition began at nine-thirty.

The participants were nine to eleven years old, totaling twelve people. The event was show jumping, with ten obstacles set up in the center of the arena, ranging in height from half a meter to one meter. They were required to complete the course within the designated time; knocking down a rail resulted in a two-second penalty, and exceeding the time limit incurred penalty points.

The rules weren't complicated, but for children of this age, the pressure was already immense.

When the participant list was read over the magic broadcast, I heard Eliot's name.

Counting on my fingers, it had already been four or five months.

His riding should look pretty decent by now.

“—Representing the Aldheim family, Eliot von Aldheim!”

A wave of polite and beautiful applause erupted from the stands.

When he rode Azure Mist into the arena, he looked incredibly heroic and dashing. The saying 'If you have a son, he should be like Sun Zhongmou' truly applied here—alright, forgive me for throwing around historical references. What I really wanted to express was that he was a brilliant young talent.

Sun Bofu and Zhou Gongjin were already the overlords of Jiangdong in their early twenties, ruling over such a vast territory. Meanwhile, at twenty, I was probably in college, agonizing over whether to eat braised chicken over rice for dinner.

Anyway, do your best, little brother.

Dressed in a deep blue riding habit, his short silver hair combed meticulously, his collar properly buttoned—his posture on horseback was incredibly stable. His back was straight, his grip on the reins was neither too tight nor too loose, his knees clung to the saddle, and his heels were down.

He was a completely different person from the boy who had been covered in sand after falling on the riding ground half a year ago.

Riding Azure Mist, he did a half-lap around the arena. As he passed the stands, he looked up toward the Aldheim family's seats. From such a distance, I couldn't actually make out his expression.

But I had a pretty good idea of what he was looking for.

I gave a sleepy wave of my hand.

The bell bracelet on my left wrist chimed as I did.

It was completely inaudible in the noisy stands, but he was filled with joy just from seeing me wave. Yes, do your best, little brother! You are carrying my entire future on your shoulders. I'm relying on you for that three-year covenant to break off the engagement like Xiao Yan.

His body shifted slightly as he withdrew his gaze, pulled the reins, and walked toward the starting line.

“Miss,” Shirune's voice called out.

“You smiled so beautifully just now—”

“...” Oh, no, I had unconsciously let my true self slip out again. I'm a villainess; I have to act like an antagonist.

Seeing me stiffen my expression, her tail swished. Over the past year of getting along, she seemed to understand that I had two personalities, yet at the same time, she didn't quite get it. Either way, she didn't speak further.

The starting pistol fired.

Azure Mist bolted forward.

The first obstacle was a single rail, half a meter high.

Azure Mist's stride was perfectly timed, taking off cleanly and landing smoothly. The second obstacle was a double rail, spaced three strides apart.

His rhythm remained excellent.

The third, the fourth, the fifth.

Azure Mist's hooves beat a dull rhythm against the sand, strike after strike. The sixth obstacle was a sharp turn followed by a vertical rail. Azure Mist's turning radius was incredibly tight, cutting almost directly against the inside of the obstacle, saving at least half a second.

“Whoa!”

Exclamations of surprise echoed from the stands.

His speed grew faster and faster, Azure Mist's mane fluttering in the wind. The deep blue riding habit blended seamlessly with the horse's body, tracing a smooth arc under the sunlight.

He's got about three-tenths of the coolness I had when I played guitar at my middle school's New Year's gala, I thought.

The ninth obstacle was a water jump, one point two meters wide.

Azure Mist's takeoff point was chosen perfectly. The moment they went airborne, Eliot's body leaned forward slightly, his center of gravity aligning perfectly with the horse's—

And then they landed.

Water splashed up, glittering briefly in the sunlight.

The final obstacle, one meter high.

A single rail.

Azure Mist's speed had reached its peak, its hooves kicking up a small cloud of dust as they pounded the sand!

Takeoff, airborne—the rail remained completely still!

Landing!

They crossed the finish line!

The stands fell silent for a brief second before erupting into a burst of applause.

How perfect!!

I glanced at the numbers on the scoreboard.

His total time was the fastest in the group, ranking first among all the competitors who had run so far.

“Amazing—” Misha grabbed my sleeve in her excitement, her eyes wide. “Miss Loris, Young Master Eliot is so amazing!”

Just average, he only has three-tenths of my style.

“Yes,” I replied, maintaining my villainess persona to avoid breaking character, especially with so many noble ladies watching nearby.

Eliot rode Azure Mist around the arena to acknowledge the crowd. As he passed the Aldheim family's seats, he looked up once more.

This time, he smiled, showing his white teeth.

It reminded me of my little sister's innocent smile from my past life. When she was in fifth grade, she used to smile at me like that too. But later on, she'd throw a fit just because our clothes were thrown into the same washing machine.

Across the distance, I gave him a slight, aloof nod, looking as cold and majestic as an emperor.

And his back straightened even more, shivering slightly.

I felt a bit sheepish.

Half an hour later.

After all the competitors in the first group finished, the results were announced.

“Eliot von Aldheim, first place in Group One!” the announcing attendant called out loudly.

Enthusiastic applause rang out from the stands.

It was louder than any of the applause before. A nine-year-old boy taking first place in his group during his first time participating in the Royal Capital Horsemanship Competition was something any noble family would be proud of.

Eliot rode out for a lap. His deep blue riding habit was dusted with sand, and a few strands of his short silver hair were damp with sweat, clinging to his forehead.

It wasn't time for the award ceremony yet, as they had to proceed to the next group.

After all, it was a group-by-group competition.

Misha clapped furiously beside me, her palms turning red. “Miss Loris! Young Master Eliot is looking at you! He's looking at you!”

“...I know.”

“Aren't you going to clap?”

“...” Fine, fine, I'll clap. Do your best, little brother.

Group Two was skipped; nothing important happened.

Group Three was also skipped; still nothing important.

The fourth group's competition took place in the afternoon.

The participants were thirteen to fifteen years old, totaling eight people. The male lead of this game, Leonhart von Edelstein, was the last to go in Group Four.

When he entered the arena riding his white warmblood horse, the cheers from the stands almost blew the canopy away.

White riding habit, golden epaulets.

His golden hair shone like molten gold under the sun. He did a half-lap around the arena, waving to the stands.

His posture was poised, and his smile was proper.

The burden a fourteen-year-old prince carried was probably no lighter than that of other nobles. Otherwise, at an age where he should only be in eighth grade, his schemes wouldn't be so deep that even a dating game master like me couldn't see through them.

The starting pistol fired, and he bolted forward.

His speed was incredibly fast.

It seemed faster than any competitor in the first group.

My eyes widened—no, little brother!

I could almost see two figures on the track: the physical form of the prince, and the phantom silhouette of Eliot, the two of them competing in speed.

But the white warmblood had a massive stride, covering an astonishing distance with every leap.

The first obstacle, the second, the third.

The rails remained completely motionless.

The fourth, the fifth, the sixth!

His rhythm was as steady as a precision timepiece, every stride landing in the exact right spot.

The seventh obstacle was a combination obstacle.

Three rails in quick succession, spaced two strides apart. The white warmblood's timing was flawless.

Takeoff, landing, takeoff again—all in one smooth motion!

A thunderous round of applause erupted from the stands!

The eighth, the ninth!

The final obstacle was a vertical rail standing one point two meters high, the tallest obstacle across all four groups today.

The white warmblood accelerated to its maximum speed, its hooves pounding the sand, kicking up a long plume of dust behind it.

Takeoff—airborne—

The white figure soared through the air like an arrow released from a bow!

Then it landed. The rail remained completely still.

They crossed the finish line!

The stands erupted in cheers louder than any before (forgive my lack of words to describe such a sensation)! It was an absolute, earth-shattering roar. And the numbers on the scoreboard refreshed—total time, first in the group.

It was also the fastest record across all four groups today.

It looks like my little brother lost... Ah, there was no helping it. The guy has five more years of food in him, the hardware difference is just too big.

Leonhart rode his horse around the arena to acknowledge the crowd, giving a slight nod as he passed the royal seats.

As he passed the Aldheim family's seats, his gaze swept over me.

I had no choice but to wave in acknowledgment.

The surrounding noble ladies looked away and began whispering among themselves.

Misha whispered beside me, “His Highness is so amazing...”

“Yes,” I said, feeling rather dejected.

“But Young Master Eliot is also amazing! He took first place in Group One!”

“Yes,” I replied, still feeling rather dejected.

I watched Leonhart's retreating figure.

His white riding habit was dazzling in the sunlight, his golden hair shimmering, silently declaring his victory.

After all the races in Group Four concluded, the results were announced.

Leonhart von Edelstein, the undisputed first place of Group Four.

No one was surprised; he was the Crown Prince.

Having received the best equestrian training since childhood and riding the finest horse in the nation, his victory was a matter of course. The applause from the stands was enthusiastic, but it was more of a polite acknowledgment than genuine surprise.

Leonhart stood on the podium, a golden medal pinned to his chest. He smiled and waved to the crowd, his posture poised and his smile proper, exactly as usual.

After the competition ended, I didn't leave immediately.

The crowd in the stands gradually dispersed, the shadows of the canopies stretching long across the sand.

The setting sun dyed the entire riding ground orange-red. The sand still bore the indentations left by horse hooves, some deep and some shallow, like some ancient, silent runes.

I leaned against the railing, looking out over the empty riding ground.

The wind blew in from afar, carrying a scent mixed with sand and sweat.

“Dear Sister!”

A voice came from behind me.

The nine-year-old boy ran toward me, and I turned around.

Eliot hadn't changed out of his deep blue riding habit yet. Several strands of his short silver hair were damp with sweat, clinging to his forehead. The silver medal on his chest swayed with his steps, reflecting a soft glow in the setting sun.

He ran up to me and stopped, panting for breath.

“Why are you running?”

“B-Because,” he took a deep breath, trying to steady his breathing, “I got first place!”

Uh... yes, it was indeed first place in his group stage.

But if you compared the times across all four groups, he wasn't as fast as the other guy.

Technically, he lost.

I wonder what kind of bet he had made back then?

A nine-year-old's brain is indeed a bit childish, isn't it?

He puffed out his chest and showed me the silver medal, his emerald-green eyes shining brightly, as if saying—Look, I did it.

It was a circular silver medal, engraved with the emblem of the Royal Capital Horsemanship Competition.

Along the edge, a line of small characters was engraved: Kingdom Year 117 Spring Horsemanship Competition, Group One, First Place.

After thinking for a long moment, I reached out my hand. There was no need to bring up depressing things. He probably thought getting first place in his group meant he had won, so I might as well praise him a bit.

Then I could see if I could foster greater initiative in him to change my plotline.

“Not bad.”

I smiled and said.

Eliot's eyelashes fluttered. “N-Not bad...?”

Well, that didn't really sound like praise.

But little brother, my right hand is starting to heat up!

Powerless, I had no choice but to maintain my villainess persona. Crossing my arms, I said with a hint of mockery:

“Compared to how you were covered in sand after falling last year, you've made some progress. But don't get complacent. Group One is only for ten and eleven-year-olds. Next year, when you move up to Group Two, your opponents will be much stronger.

Furthermore, the obstacles today were on the lower side. Your takeoff point for the water jump was a bit late. If Azure Mist's stride hadn't been large enough, you would have landed right in the water.”

“Once we return, practice jumping for an extra half hour every day.”

As my final words fell,

Whew, that was close. The power of the king in my right hand dissipated.

“...Yes,” he replied, his voice muffled.

It seemed his joy had been thoroughly doused by me. Even though it was the truth, I hadn't praised him as promised, but had put him down instead.

Thinking it over, this was indeed a bit cruel to him. I had to find other ways to encourage him; I couldn't let him turn to the dark side.

“Also,” I said, looking back at him.

“Y-Yes!”

“I won't hit you anymore in the future.”

I lightly patted his cheek, mimicking a threatening slap, but in reality, it felt more like gently patting a bouncy ball.

This should be fine, right?

It's quite gentle too.

“You are already a little man now, and you haven't disgraced our family. Keep living with this spirit and attitude—don't disappoint me, Eliot.”

As my words fell,

He froze, and then his eyes welled with tears.

But he didn't cry. He bit his lip hard, straightened his back, and pressed the silver medal against his chest.

“...Thank you, Dear Sister.”

His voice was very soft, slightly choked with emotion.

What a touching scene.

But, but...

Damn it! I'm in despair! Just a second ago I thought this would be fine, but the very next second, my right hand is itching to move!

【Warning!】

Are you kidding me, bro?!

【Significant deviation in the plot detected.】

【Loris von Aldheim's attitude toward Eliot von Aldheim has undergone a fundamental shift, which is highly inconsistent with the established trajectory of fate.】

【Please correct this immediately.】

A crisp slapping sound rang out.

“Eh?”

Eliot's eyes were completely blank with bewilderment.

I lost my composure once again.

Are you kidding me, bro? Seriously! Why do I have to lose face like this? I literally just said I wouldn't hit him, and the very next second I slap him across the face. How ridiculous is that?!

But I also realized something.

It was probably my line 'I won't hit you anymore in the future' that triggered the plot correction.

Because in the original game, Loris loved to beat her younger brother. How could she not hit him?

I had no choice but to rack my brain to come up with a logical explanation.

“No crying!” I lowered my voice, trying to sound fierce, though in reality I was just terrified of breaking character. “You are a man of the Aldheim family!”

“Eh?” Eliot was still utterly bewildered.

But at least he understood.

Oh, so he got slapped because he was crying, not for no reason. In that instant, he probably remembered the trauma of his childhood, sweating buckets over the pond and the library.

“Does it hurt?” I asked after a long, awkward silence.

Eliot instinctively nodded, then shook his head.

Finally, he took a deep breath and said seriously, “You are right, Dear Sister. I always end up crying in front of you... I will work hard to correct it!”

Whew, nine-year-olds are so easy to fool.

I let out a sigh of relief in my heart.

“Good... For dinner tonight, I'll have the kitchen prepare an extra dessert. Your favorite, honey-marinated pears.”

After I spoke, there was silence behind me for a few seconds. Then, a very, very soft voice drifted over, indicating he had already let it go.

“...Yes.”

A relatively smooth resolution.

...

As I was leaving the riding ground, I ran into Leonhart in the corridor.

He had already changed back into casual clothes—a white shirt paired with dark gray trousers. His golden hair was still slightly damp, likely from a recent wash. A few young nobles surrounded him, speaking to him. He tilted his head slightly to listen, his face wearing that standard, gentle smile.

Seeing me, he stopped in his tracks.

Since we had to exchange pleasantries—after all, Loris was his fiancée—the thought of it drained the last of my energy, leaving me even more despondent. Little brother, you've really let me down.

“Miss Loris,” he said.

“Your Highness.” My King's Engine began to roar.

“Today's competition was very exciting, wasn't it?” he said, his ice-blue eyes looking at me. “Lord Eliot's performance was deeply impressive. First place in Group One is highly outstanding.”

“...Thank you for your praise, Your Highness. My brother still has a long way to go.”

“There is no need to be modest. Securing first place in his group at the age of ten proves that the Aldheim family has a worthy successor.”

His tone was still one of perfectly measured praise.

“...Your Highness's performance today was also very brilliant,” I said. “The fastest record is well-deserved.”

“Thank you.”

He nodded slightly, then shifted his gaze away from me toward the other end of the corridor, where several veteran royal ministers were gesturing to him.

“Excuse me, Miss Loris.”

“Please, suit yourself, Your Highness.”

He turned and left, his white-shirted back gradually receding under the corridor lights, walking in the exact opposite direction from me.

“Miss,” Shirune said, stepping forward to follow me, her voice coming from my side.

“Yes.”

“Do you need to rest? Your complexion looks very pale.”

“I'm fine.”

I waved my hand exhaustedly. Her tail swished with slight confusion, and she said no more.

(Voiceover: That evening, in his private study at the royal palace, Leonhart was flipping through the record book of today's horsemanship competition. His attendant stood nearby, assuming His Highness was reviewing his own performance. However, the page Leonhart had opened to was the score sheet for Group One. He looked at it for a moment, then closed the record book.

“That Aldheim boy has decent riding skills.”

“Yes, Your Highness. Young Master Eliot performed exceptionally well today.”

“...Yes.”

He stood up and walked to the window. Moonlight fell upon his golden hair, and he spoke no further.)