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While Ray sprinted rapidly and passed the ball, the Prince began to mutter beside Rose, as if providing a commentary.
“He’s been like that since his boarding school days. He would join the lowest-ranked team or take the most lacking person as a teammate. When a task was given, the more obstacles there were, the more—much more—he enjoyed it. It was chilling...”
At the Prince's words, Rose recalled a memory of Ray in the embassy's gallery room, listening to people gossip behind his back.
He had simply been smiling while listening to the criticism of himself. As if something amusing had happened.
On the field, the players were now clumped together, rolling on the ground. The cheers of the cadets supporting their respective teams echoed loudly across the grounds.
Some had even stood up from their seats, locking arms and shouting.
The cool autumn breeze could not dampen this heightened atmosphere at all.
The temperature on the field was as hot as the mood in the stands. Rose gaped as she saw Ray lift an opposing player off the ground and slam them down.
She was shocked that such a violent sport, where bodies were tossed around indiscriminately, was popular in a country like Orturan.
She even suspected that they might be releasing emotions and desires suppressed by countless etiquettes through sports.
Ray's momentum as he blocked an opposing player trying to escape with the ball was beyond fierce; it was practically brutal.
Without exception, anyone who collided with Ray was sent bouncing across the ground.
“The ignorant call it noblesse oblige or something like that...”
Watching the scene, the Prince let out another smirk.
“To me, it’s just a bad habit. Since his life is so dreadfully boring, he’s trying to feel some stimulation through things like this. Simply winning wouldn't be any fun. He must be bored.”
The Prince, as he spoke, seemed equally bored. Though his tone was mocking, Rose could tell that he deeply empathized with the 'boredom' Ray felt.
A dense, indescribable ennui always emanated from King Catherine and the Prince.
Rose thought about the lives of the Orturan nobles she had observed. How much they despised a life of effort and how desperately they sought to distance themselves from such a life.
Striving was something only those who had to do so to survive would do; they were expected to live as if floating on water, without putting effort into anything.
Talent was a virtue, but effort was vulgar.
However, a life with no effort holds little meaning, so while some willingly enjoyed that lightness and monotony, others seemed to lose the very meaning of life.
The only difference was whether they filled that void with pride and ennui, or with stimulation.
To kill their excess time, they seemed to immerse themselves in various diversions like parties, hunting, or shopping. Such activities were refined and elegant, but ultimately meaningless.
That bored atmosphere, as if isolated from the world, was something Rose had occasionally felt from Ray Crawford, but the man currently running across the field looked completely different.
Is that man really the person I've been seeing?
Rose found herself doubting.
His trousers were quickly soiled with dirt from rolling on the field, and the angry muscles visible through his shorts whenever he ran were not aristocratic at all.
His black hair, always neatly combed, had a few strands falling over his forehead due to sweat. Above all, the look in his eyes as he held the ball was incredibly fierce.
The man on the field... was scary.
Was he like this on the battlefield?
Two opposing players began to charge toward Ray, who was sprinting with the ball.
Without realizing it, Rose clasped her hands together, waiting for the imminent, violent collision. Even the Prince, who had been chatting incessantly, was silent for this moment.
Ray lightly pivoted to shake off one player and then collided almost head-on with another player rushing in from the side.
The moment the merciless impact occurred, the opposing player could not withstand Ray's strength and was sent crashing noisily to the ground.
Startled by the heavy impact, Rose almost screamed and covered her mouth with her hand.
Even though she wasn't the one playing, her heart was pounding wildly.
After shrugging a man off with his shoulder, Ray entered the goal line at high speed and slammed the ball onto the ground, triggering a massive roar from the stands.
“Wonderful! Wonderful!”
Even King Catherine was clapping and shouting repeatedly, to the point that Rose's ears hurt.
“That is the spirit of Orturan!”
Catching his breath, Ray did not miss the subsequent kicking opportunity. As the ball kicked by his long leg traced a smooth parabola and passed through the goalposts, another great cheer erupted.
While the instructors calmed the excited cadets, a cadet standing in front of the scoreboard quickly flipped the number cards.
“I believe that's why Ray entered politics as well. Isn't politics a competition every single day? And how many obstacles are there? It doesn't even compare to sports.”
The Prince muttered as he watched Ray's team score jump to 7 in one go.
“Since every election is a game of victory or defeat, it's only natural that this madman would be obsessed with it.”
That madman was already ruthlessly stealing the ball from another opponent.
Soon, heavy marking followed, and Ray, who rolled on the ground due to a tackle, passed the ball to another player.
Despite falling quite hard, he stood up immediately and shouted something to his teammates.
His sleeves were now rolled up to his elbows, and he stood firmly, bracing himself with two arms where veins were prominently bulging.
Rose still didn't understand a single rule of this violent sport, but even she could now tell that Ray's team was highly likely to win.
These young soldiers were simply no match for him.
The match, which lasted about twenty minutes, eventually ended with a score of 26 to 17.
It was a victory for Team Ray Crawford, and 21 of those points were scored by Ray himself. In the second half, Ray ran less, as if he were actually showing some mercy, allowing the opposing team to score 12 points.
Rose felt that Ray seemed strangely bored during the second half. It might have been a delusion caused by being too conscious of the Prince's words.
After the game, the players exchanged polite greetings and strode toward the stands, bowing their waists in respect before King Catherine.
“You see, my lady. That fellow showing mercy is nothing more than a brief moment of madness because he hates taking the easy path. It's not generosity.”
The Prince, sitting with his legs crossed, glanced at the players and leaned in to whisper to Rose.
“So, if you wish for your marital harmony to last, I recommend you avoid dealing with him as much as possible, my lady. Tease him more. He'll like it even more that way.”
The moment the Prince leaned in, Ray's gaze briefly landed on Rose. His blue eyes, which seemed to be calmly observing the Prince and Rose, only returned to their place after the Prince pulled away.
The youngest Prince, who had made a joke that was somewhat mischievous and could be heard as rude for an Orturan, smiled brightly at Ray as if nothing had happened.
The Ray Crawford standing before the King showed none of the fierce momentum from before.
If it weren't for his slightly disheveled hair and the glistening sweat on the nape of his neck, no one would believe that he had been roaming the field like a madman just a few minutes ago.
The King, looking unusually energetic, expressed his praise to both teams with a very satisfied expression.
“Duke Crawford should be congratulated by his wife as well, shouldn't he?”
As the King spoke with a sly smile, the players lined up began to whistle like young boys at a boarding school.
“Wipe your husband's sweat, my lady.”
The whistling grew uncomfortably loud.
Unlike Rose, who was momentarily flustered, the man—who was a composed and excellent actor at every moment—approached her with a natural smile.
Beads of sweat, which the autumn breeze could not dry, slowly trickled down Ray's hair and temples toward his neck.
Rose lifted her handkerchief to wipe his forehead, but unfortunately, the height difference was significant.
Just as she tried to lift her heels inside her dress, his body leaned toward Rose.
As Ray lowered his upper body, his blue eyes came very close.
While Rose slowly wiped his forehead and temples, the man's calm gaze did not move for a single second. Feeling embarrassed to meet those eyes, Rose stared uselessly at her handkerchief.
He was a man who had just run like crazy for twenty minutes, yet even his breathing was steady, and it seemed as if his heart wasn't even racing.
In the awkward silence, only the sound of the immaturely laughing cadets could be heard.
As Rose's handkerchief slowly brushed past the sternocleidomastoid muscle along his jawline, she felt his Adam's apple move beneath her fingertips.
The sensation was so unfamiliar that Rose unconsciously looked up, meeting the blue gaze that was observing her.
Startled by the gaze that held not a shred of hesitation, Rose lowered her eyes again.
In the meantime, a bead of sweat flowed down his chest, visible through the collar of his buttonless t-shirt, and disappeared deeper inside.
Perhaps noticing Rose's hand stopping awkwardly near his collarbone, Ray suddenly took her hand and straightened his upper body.
“I'll take it from here.”
With his habitual smile, Ray gently took the handkerchief from her hand.
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