《The duelist's oath》 Chapter one: the first cut The smell of blood lingers as the blade cuts across Lucien¡¯s face, warm and sharp. He doesn¡¯t stop. Doesn¡¯t flinch. Pain is nothing. The fight is everything. His opponent hesitates. Big mistake. Lucien moves¡ªfast, precise, a predator closing in. He can already see it¡ªthe opening, the inevitable end¡ª Then, he sees him. Adrien Valmont. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Perched above the hall, dark eyes locked onto him his obsidian hair reflecting the orange hue of the setting sun, one hand resting lazily against his chin. Not bored. Not amused. Just watching. Lucien¡¯s breath hitches. His grip tightens¡ªtoo tight. A blade comes for him. He barely twists away in time, steel kissing the fabric of his sleeve. His balance shifts¡ªwrong. Off. "Eyes on me, Moreau." His opponent¡¯s voice drags him back, smug and taunting. Lucien¡¯s jaw clenches. His heart slams against his ribs, half from the fight, half from¡ªno. Not now. He strikes. Hard. Fast. Final. The blade clatters to the ground. His opponent stumbles. The match is over. Lucien should feel triumphant. He doesn¡¯t. He exhales, wipes the sweat from his brow. Forces himself not to look up. And fails. Adrien is still watching. Still unreadable but a slight grin playing on his lip. Lucien thought to himself how can a man''s lip be as red as a rose and as gentle jam he scowls at the tought and turns away, but the damage is done. Adrien Valmont saw him falter. And Lucien hates him for it. Adrien valmont Adrien Valmont Shouldn¡¯t Have Cared The blade cut across Lucien Moreau¡¯s face, a thin line of red blooming against his skin. He didn¡¯t flinch. Didn¡¯t falter. Interesting. Adrien leaned forward slightly, fingers drumming idly against his knee as he watched. The field was filled with the usual noble sons, whispering behind gloved hands, scoffing at the idea of a scholar holding his own against one of them. Adrien had seen enough duels to know how this should end. Lucien should have folded by now. Should have hesitated under the weight of their stares, under the unspoken rule that this wasn¡¯t his place. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. But he didn¡¯t. He moved like he belonged. Quick. Sharp. Unapologetic. Adrien smirked. Then, just as Lucien closed in for the final strike, his eyes flickered up¡ªto him. For a second¡ªless than that, the barest breath of a moment¡ªLucien wavered. His opponent saw it. Took it. Steel flashed, and Lucien barely avoided the hit. A mistake. A slip. Because of him. Adrien¡¯s fingers stilled. "Eyes on me, Moreau." The taunt came from the opponent, but Lucien¡¯s gaze didn¡¯t snap back to him immediately. It lingered¡ªjust long enough for Adrien to notice. Then, like he was punishing himself for the distraction, Lucien ended it. A sharp strike. A blade knocked from a hand. Victory. Silence settled over the hall. Lucien wiped his brow, exhaled. He hesitated, as if resisting the urge¡ªthen looked up again. Their eyes met. This time, Adrien smirked. Lucien scowled and turned away.But Adrien had seen. And he shouldn''t have cared. But he did An Unspoken Game Lucien kept his steps measured as he walked through the empty hall, ignoring the slow drag of pain along his cheek. The wound had dried by now, a thin line of red crusting over skin that should have been stitched or at least cleaned properly. But that would have required a willing nurse. The memory of the woman¡¯s forced smile lingered, her hands folded primly as she refused him. No explanation. No apology. Just refusal. Lucien had known better than to argue. Instead, he¡¯d walked out, letting the weight of laughter and coins clinking behind him confirm what he already suspected. Bribed. Again. His fingers twitched at his side, but he didn¡¯t let himself react. This wasn¡¯t new. What was new was the quiet presence standing just ahead, leaning against the marble archway with an ease Lucien knew he could never afford. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Adrien Valmont. Lucien slowed, just slightly. Turning back now would be obvious, and he refused to give the noble the satisfaction. Adrien must have noticed. He pushed off the wall, steps light against the polished stone. ¡°Moreau.¡± Lucien paused, inclining his head. ¡°Seigneur Valmont.¡± Adrien¡¯s lips twitched, as if amused by the formality. ¡°No bandages?¡± Lucien¡¯s expression didn¡¯t shift. ¡°The nurse was¡­ preoccupied.¡± A pause. A beat too long. Lucien expected some half-hearted mockery, some glib remark about knowing his place. But Adrien just hummed, eyes flicking over the wound. Assessing. ¡°You should clean that,¡± he said. Not mocking. Not concerned either¡ªjust stating it like fact. Lucien lifted his chin. ¡°I manage fine.¡± Adrien¡¯s smirk sharpened. ¡°Clearly.¡± Lucien exhaled slowly, refusing to rise to it. ¡°Was there something you needed, Seigneur?¡± Adrien tilted his head, dark eyes unreadable. For a moment, it almost looked l ike he was debating something. Then¡ª"No." Lucien frowned, but Adrien was already turning, stepping past him like the conversation had never happened. Lucien watched him go, brow furrowing slightly. He should be relieved. Instead, he found himself standing there a moment longer, wondering why Adrien had bothered at all. A Lesson in Silence He stood in the infirmary doorway, watching the nurse fold linens with deliberate ease, as if she hadn¡¯t just denied a student the most basic medical attention. ¡°Busy evening, I take it?¡± The nurse stilled. Then, with careful composure, she turned. ¡°Seigneur Valmont,¡± she greeted smoothly. ¡°Is there something I can assist you with?¡± Adrien stepped further inside, his gaze flicking to the untouched medical supplies on the nearby counter. ¡°Strange. I was under the impression that assistance was your role here.¡± Her smile didn¡¯t falter. ¡°It is.¡± ¡°And yet,¡± Adrien continued, tone light, too light, ¡°Moreau left without receiving any.¡± The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. A pause. The kind that revealed far more than words ever could. The nurse clasped her hands together. ¡°I¡¯m afraid Moreau did not meet the necessary requirements for treatment.¡± Adrien tilted his head, letting the weight of silence stretch between them. ¡°The requirements being?¡± Her smile tensed at the edges. ¡°Surely you understand, Seigneur. Some students¡ª¡± ¡°Ah,¡± Adrien cut in, nodding slightly. ¡°So you admit it then.¡± The nurse inhaled, her fingers tightening just barely at her sides. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you mean.¡± Adrien smiled. Sharp. Amused. Dangerous. ¡°Of course you don¡¯t.¡± He didn¡¯t press further. He didn¡¯t need to. People like her¡ªpeople who bent at the weight of coin and favor¡ªrelied on silence to keep them safe. But silence, Adrien had learned, was just another kind of weapon. And sometimes, the most effective thing to say was nothing at all. He stepped back toward the door, gaze lingering on the untouched medical kit one last time. ¡°Be careful, Madame,¡± he murmured. ¡°Selective blindness can be quite the dangerous habit.¡±