The Villainess is my fiance: But she is gentle towards me

Vined leaned back on the chair, letting out a long breath as the last echoes of celebration faded from the camp.

The fire outside crackled softly, and for the first time since morning, the tent felt calm.

"That kid…" Vined murmured, rubbing his temple before a small smile tugged at his lips.

"He has the potential to reach grandmaster someday."

His father-in-law sat beside him, hands resting on his knees.

The older man didn't speak right away. He stared at the empty entrance of the tent, thinking.

Finally, he nodded slowly.

"Yes. He does. Raven is standing at the very edge of swordmaster. One clean push… and he'll step into it."

He paused, his voice lowering a bit. "But reaching grandmaster… that depends on his heart and his will. No one can force that path."

Vined nodded again. He understood that truth better than anyone.

The grandmaster realm was not something a person stumbled into.

It demanded everything. Discipline, pain, patience, years of it.

He himself had spent twenty long years clawing his way up to that level. There were days he thought he would break before reaching it.

So he knew exactly how hard it would be for Raven.

A small silence settled between them, warm and comfortable.

Then his father-in-law shifted slightly and asked, "Speaking of grandmaster… how is Vivian doing these days?"

His father-in-law looked at Vined with a hint of worry.

He hadn't seen Vivian since the conference and had left right after, since Sierra, his daughter in law, went into labor that same day.

He hadn't been able to stay long, so he never got the chance to speak with Vivian properly.

Hearing his father-in-law speak, Vined let out a tired sigh.

"He's going through a difficult phase," he said, worry clear in his voice. "It'll be hard for him."

His father-in-law nodded.

Both of them knew how badly Vivian wanted to join the battlefield, but until he reached the Grandmaster stage, they wouldn't allow it.

No matter what he said or how much he pushed, that rule would not change.

Vined ran a hand through his hair as he thought about his son.

'Vivian must be in a dilemma right now.' He thought.

Vined knew his son too well, knew the way he thought, knew how stubborn he could be.

And now that Vivian was facing the same wall Vined had once struggled against, he understood exactly how painful it must be for him.

"Don't worry," his father-in-law said, his voice softening.

"He'll reach Grandmaster one day." He didn't mention how long it might take, because he didn't know.

But his tone held quiet confidence, steady and sure.

"Let's hope it goes this way," Vined sighed as he stood up.

"You should rest. I'll go inspect what's happening outside."

His father-in-law nodded. "Yes. Go on."

Vined stepped out of the tent and looked around.

The soldiers were busy arranging supplies for the bridge.

The actual construction hadn't started yet, but everyone was working with full focus.

At this pace, the bridge would be ready in about fifteen days.

After that, they planned a ten-day march… and then the attack would begin.

Their plan was simple but bold, capture the North in a single strike.

One attack, fast and clean, so the war wouldn't drag on and their losses would stay low.

After checking the area, Vined continued walking.

His steps grew faster, and soon he broke into a run.

He moved through the camp, past the noise and torches, until he reached a quiet, empty spot where no one else was around.

He stopped, glanced around slowly, and then spoke in a steady voice.

"Come out."

The moment he spoke, two figures wearing snow-white cloaks appeared in front of him like ghosts slipping out of the night.

They dropped to one knee at the same time and said in unison, "We greet the Duke."

These two belonged to the Black Shadows, they were assigned to the information department of the army.

Vined gave a small nod. "Have you noticed any abnormality?"

The two men stayed silent for a moment, as if choosing their words with care.

Then one of them stepped forward a little and spoke.

"No, my lord. There are no abnormalities. However, our spies have received an intel."

Vined's eyes narrowed. "What intel?" he asked, his voice calm, steady, without a hint of anger.

The man continued, "There are spies inside our army. They have been leaking information to the enemy."

Vined didn't react. His face stayed the same, calm, thoughtful.

There was no shock, no anger, not even surprise.

He had expected this.

If their side could send spies into the Trampolin territory, then the enemy could do the same.

It was simply the nature of war.

He crossed his arms slowly, thinking.

The cold wind blew past, carrying the distant sounds of soldiers working, unaware of the silent danger among them.

"It was bound to happen," Vined said quietly, more to himself than to the men kneeling before him.

The two shadows waited, heads bowed, ready for his next command.

After a while, Vined finally spoke. "Have you confirmed the identities of the spies?"

The man who had spoken earlier answered without hesitation.

"No, my lord. We haven't confirmed it yet, but we will before night."

Vined gave a slow nod. "Alright. You may go now. When you confirm their identities, kill them."

"Understood," both men replied.

In the next second, a sharp whoosh filled the air and their figures vanished, leaving only the cold wind behind.

Once they were gone, Vined turned toward the east, the opposite direction of the camp.

He started walking, his steps steady at first, then faster and faster as he moved deeper into the quiet stretch of land.

The trees changed around him.

The normal forest faded into a strange place where the trunks were pale as bone and the leaves shimmered faintly like frost.

Here, the world was silent. Only white trees stood, packed so close together they blocked out the rest of the night.

When he reached the heart of that eerie place, he stopped.

"So you have sent scouts, huh?"

Vined muttered, eyes narrowing as he sensed faint movements around him.

With a small snap of his fingers, his sword appeared in his hand, the metal gleaming even in the dim light.

"I should get rid of them," he said under his breath.

And with that, his figure vanished into the deep forest, silent as a shadow, swift as a blade slipping through the dark.

Not long after he vanished, screaming sounds came from the forest covered in snow.

Every few seconds, miserable cries echoed through the white woods. The sound was sharp, raw, and full of pain.

It went on for a while, then slowly faded into silence. The forest grew still again, as if nothing had happened.

A moment later, Vined returned.

His steps were calm, his expression unreadable.

He looked like a man coming back from a short walk rather than a blood-soaked battle.

He jerked his sword once to shake off the blood, then with a small snap of his fingers, the blade disappeared into his subspace.

He stood there in the snow, quiet and steady.

But his eyes… they were cold. Too calm for someone who had just ended so many lives.

There was something dark behind that calmness, something heavy, as he muttered under his breath,

"Every one of them at 4th star?"

He frowned slightly. That didn't make sense.

If one or two was at the 4th star, it would have been surprising but still believable.

But all of them? Every single scout? That was impossible.

Usually, warriors who reached 4th star were given ranks like captain or higher.

They were valuable assets in an army, not scouts to be sent out and risked like pawns.

Sending so many 4th-star warriors just to scout meant one of two things, either the commander was a complete fool, or their army was terrifyingly strong.

But Vined knew Ravan Tramplin was no fool.

Which meant only one thing, this enemy force was far stronger than anyone had guessed.

He looked toward the forest again, the wind howling through the trees.

The snow fell quietly, covering the faint red stains on the ground.

Though it was terrifying, there was at least one small relief, they were weaker than normal 4th-star warriors. Still, they were far stronger than any 3rd-star fighter.

It was a strange gap, as if someone had pushed them up a level without giving them the true strength that came with it.

Vined frowned.

"Am I worrying too much?" he asked himself.

The snow didn't answer him.

Only the wind moved, brushing past him with a cold whisper that made the uneasy feeling in his chest grow stronger.

If there really were many warriors like this, half-strong, half-wrong, all at the 4th star, then the coming battles would be far harder than he had first imagined.

Something about it felt unnatural. Forced. As if a hidden hand was shaping things from the shadows.

He let out a long breath.

"Sigh…"

The sound drifted through the cold air as he started walking back toward the camp.

His boots crunched in the snow, each step heavy with thought.

"This war will be difficult."