Spontaneous Remission

I took a peek at Lyla’s expression. It was still overflowing with anger. She took a deep breath and said, “Unfortunately, it was true. He assaulted my quiver when my guard was down.” Lyla! Can you phrase it in a better way?

The subject of the gossip changed. “So, this is what the demon child is capable of.” “Why did we let him into our city?” “Poor Lady Lyla.”

Cyrus could no longer keep his calm demeanor. “Sister! Do you realize what you are saying?” I wanted to ask her the same thing, but I had an inkling that our concerns were different.

“Why would I lie? I love Nephrite. I won’t do anything that would hurt him. I’m only saying this because it did happen, and it would be shameful to lie on my wedding day. Don’t worry, Cyrus. I will defeat him. So I can earn my happiness.” Against Lyla, maybe I could have a chance of winning this even with one arm.

Cyrus evidently was thinking the same thing. He rubbed his face in exasperation. “No, Lord Nephrite will represent you in the match,” he said.

What? Is this even allowed? It was obvious that he would absolutely destroy me.

“Then, I choose Lady Sabedra, the Dragon of Knowledge, to represent me!” I pointed at Sabedra, who had still been wolfing down snacks throughout the commotion.

She heard me utter her name and turned around. “Wa dad wu ay?” she said with her mouth stuffed with food.

Cyrus shook his head. “The proposer has to participate in the match. Only the one being challenged can choose a representative.”

What’s up with this unfair rule?

The ceremony was thus paused, and it could only resume once the winner of the match had been decided. Cyrus, whose smile never came back, begrudgingly arranged for the match to be held on the mage training ground, which was only a five-minute walk from the town hall.

As the one being challenged, Lyla’s side could decide the nature of the archery match.

“Standard shots at the target. Best of three. Is that acceptable?” Nephrite asked me while we were walking to the training grounds. The wedding guests were trailing behind us, chattering about how they were looking forward to the spectacle (to my humiliation). Lyla stayed at the end of the crowd, in the process of being reprimanded by Cyrus.

“Is it acceptable?” I asked Sabedra, who was next to me. She could barely hold back her pout. Guess being separated from pastries could cause one to abandon their air of dignity. She even forgot to wipe away the crumbs stuck around her mouth.

“Come on. You will lose anyway. Does that matter?” Sabedra said grumpily.

“Don’t worry. I have a plan.” I winked at Sabedra, but she didn’t share my enthusiasm. Honestly, I had a vague idea of how I could avoid this match ending in my complete defeat, but I needed one more star to align with the rest to do so.

“What plan do you have? Can you share it with me?” Nephrite said cheerily. To a guy whose wedding was disrupted and whose fiancée was at risk of being stolen away, this attitude was certainly suspicious.

“Who knows?”

“Don’t be so tense. We aren’t enemies here. We both care about Lyla. Our disagreement is only about who can make her happier.”

His expression didn’t seem fake, unlike Cyrus's. Maybe he was truly a stand-up guy.

“What do you love about Lyla?” I asked.

He blushed like an innocent child. “Her… her smile. When we were children, I sometimes saw her alone at the archery range. Although she would miss some of her shots, she still looked like she thoroughly enjoyed herself.”

Oh, no. He was worse than I thought. His comments might actually be genuine, because if he didn’t have his romance filter on, he would say that Lyla missed most of her shots.

He continued extolling Lyla’s cuteness, intelligence, and some other exaggerated qualities. I got bored and tuned his voice out. He didn’t even remember to ask me about my plan again.

The training grounds were finally before us. I noticed a crowd of onlookers gathering outside the area. Word sure travelled fast. A servant hurried to set up two shooting targets side by side at the other end of the empty square.

“Who do you want to go first?” Nephrite asked.

“You do your three shots. Then, I will do mine.” I replied.

“Are you sure? It will put a lot of pressure on you.”

I glanced at my right shoulder. I don’t think the pressure is the biggest issue here…

Nephrite picked up a bow from the servant and a quiver of arrows. He showed me the quiver. “Pick three for me.”

“Lord Nephrite, stop asking me about every little thing!”

“But I want to defeat you fair and square.” He said with such sincerity that I gave up and pulled out three random arrows. He happily accepted them.

Before he could ask, I pointed to the target that was closer to us. “You go ahead and shoot that one.”

He stood behind the line marked by an arrow lying on the floor. And did his three shots. The distance from the line to the target was around eighty meters. Nephrite hit the center on his last shot, while his first two deviated from the center by only a few centimeters.

I used the time to watch Lyla’s expression. She didn’t cheer even after Nephrite’s third shot, when the spectating crowd erupted into applause. Her smile was still there, but it felt tenser than before. Again, this could all be part of my imagination; she could be feeling in ways that were out of my understanding.

That still wasn’t enough information to understand Lyla. In the end, I still didn’t know if stopping the wedding was the right decision.

It was my turn to shoot. With the bow in my only hand, I stared at the three arrows. Now, how do I use the bow with only one arm? The crowd started to jeer and heckle me.

Nephrite glanced at me sympathetically. “I will go calm them down.” And he jogged towards the horde of people. His kindness was getting on my nerves. I don’t need your help.

The longer I delay this, the worse it will get. The pressure on me to stop stalling built with every second of inaction. I took the bow and arrow necklaces out of the bag and wore them around my neck. Lyla’s eyes twitched slightly at seeing her necklaces again.

That gave me the courage to start my doomed attempt. I reluctantly sat down and removed one of my leather shoes. With my arm holding the bow and my toes pulling back the string, I fired my first shot, which landed less than five meters away, nowhere near the target.

The crowd went wild, just like when Nephrite hit the target, but this time they were celebrating my failure. That… hurt more than it should. Was Lyla ever discouraged like this? I couldn’t imagine the elves berating her like they were doing to me, an enemy, “the demon child”. But she must have felt a similar way when she tried so hard to improve, only to find her skills stagnating.

The people around her must not be supportive of her decision to continue trying. Those people pushed her down, wanting her to do something else that could… that could… A realization dawned on me. I was one of those people. When Lyla suggested that the two of us run away, I asked her to give up. So… who am I to take her from them?

I launched my second shot as I was immersed in my contemplation. The arrow didn’t even shoot out this time. It dropped onto the ground with a sad thump.

The crowd got even wilder. Laughter overpowered the cheering. They were treating me like a joke. Even some of the stoic warriors guarding us couldn’t stifle their chuckles. I couldn’t see Nephrite as he blended into the crowd. I wondered whether he was also laughing at me.

Lyla didn’t laugh. She stared at me with a frown. Was she disappointed in my poor performance? Was she angry at me for embarrassing her with such a pathetic display? Or did my floundering remind her of herself, of those unpleasant memories?

Regardless of how she felt, her presence made me feel like I could go on, even though my third shot would also end in failure. She wasn’t laughing. Her face was serious, even though it was a frown. I was thankful that she was here with me in my embarrassment, failure, and a touch of frustration.

Did she ever feel the same way? An image from the past flashed through my mind. Back when she failed the exam, when we were in her dim room, when I couldn’t think of the right words to say. Maybe I didn’t have to say anything. Maybe the fact that I was there with her was enough. Tears flowed out of my eyes. The crowd wouldn’t let me be just because I shed some tears; they continued their barrage of laughter born from schadenfreude.

“I’m sorry, Lyla. I’m so sorry for failing you when you needed me.” My voice was raspy and unpleasant to listen to.

My tears blurred my vision; I couldn’t see how Lyla reacted to what I said, but I had to continue with the match. I picked up the third arrow with my toes.

It’s too late, idiot. I stopped. My eyes glimmered at the voice. The voice I had been desperately waiting for. Lyla’s voice. And the voice didn’t come from outside my head.

I finally understood Lyla.

Uncontrollable, maniacal laughter came out of me. My plan would work now. I could say what I want to say to Lyla now. Dropping the third arrow back onto the ground, I stood up and wiped my tears with my left wrist.

I could see clearly again. And the first thing I saw was warriors surrounding me with their swords drawn. The immediate threat sent me into a panic. “Hey. Hey. What’s the problem here?”

“Your right arm!” I heard Lyla yell from behind the warriors. Her inner thoughts made the same exclamation.

My right arm? But my right arm is gone. I looked at my right shoulder, only to discover that it was glowing. Something was jutting out from under the bandage that I had only freshly applied after my bath earlier this day. With a pop, an arm burst out.