Free Web NovelChapter 191: Waiting for your signature.
While at the same time, on the same grounds—
Not far away, someone else was practicing.
With a claymore sword in his hand, he moved with swift precision, his steps measured yet fluid as he matched every beat of his opponent. Though his movements weren’t perfectly clean, there was something about them —raw, controlled, and striking —that made it impossible to look away.
Each swing carried weight.
Each turn held intent.
His presence alone was enough to draw attention.
His eyes were sharp grey, locked onto the man before him with unwavering focus —like a predator studying its prey, waiting for the perfect moment to strike with all might.
"Aiyah...!!"
With a sharp yell, he delivered his final strike ...
The force behind it sent his opponent stumbling a step back, completely subdued.
Victory —clean, decisive.
The man across from him exhaled and lowered his sword, conceding the match.
A brief silence followed—
Before it was broken by a round of applause from behind.
"Well done, Ethan!"
A man in his mid-thirties stepped forward, applauding with clear approval. His tone was full of pride ... full of confidence.
He was Edic Carter, one of the top managers at Fusion Entertainment.
And today, he had personally come to oversee the practice session of his artiste—
Ethan Grant.
"You performed well, Ethan Grant," Samuel, the trainer added with a nod of approval.
This wasn’t their first time training with the swords, but each session showed visible improvement ...
Watching Ethan refine himself brought the trainer a quiet sense of pride too.
However, Ethan didn’t seem satisfied with himself.
His brows furrowed slightly as he lowered his gaze toward his feet, shifting his stance, testing it again ...
"I think my footwork could improve for better," he said calmly. "Something felt off just now. It wasn’t as perfect as it should have been. What do you think?"
He looked back up at him.
The trainer’s brows creased as he looked down at Ethan’s stance.
"It could be refined, but—"
"... but that isn’t really necessary."
Edic cut in smoothly, his hands tucked into his pockets as he stepped closer.
"You’re already more than good enough. All you need is a solid foundation for the role. It’s not like you’re preparing for GSFF or something," he added with a light laugh.
Ethan turned to look at him —his gaze cold.
Edic stiffened slightly.
"W-what?" he asked. "Don’t tell me you actually are preparing for GSFF?"
"You think just anyone can prepare for the Global Sword Fighting Federation?" Ethan replied flatly.
Edic faltered. He had only been joking —he hadn’t expected Ethan to take it seriously.
"I ... I was just kidding," he said quickly. "I only meant that you’re already doing great. There’s no need to push yourself to that level for a film role."
But from Ethan’s expression alone, it was clear—
His words hadn’t landed.
Ethan turned back to the trainer.
"I know I can improve," he said. "But I don’t just want to be good. I want to get as close to perfection as possible. Can you help me with that??"
The trainer smiled faintly at him.
"I’m no master, Ethan," he said honestly. "But I’ll guide you as far as I can." frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓
Even so, Ethan held him in high regard.
After all, the man had once qualified for GSFF —and had even competed with Onyx before retiring.
On the side, Edic didn’t know what to say.
Was this level of dedication even necessary? No.
But could he stop Ethan? Also no.
Especially when Ethan was funding the training himself, leaving Edic with no real leverage.
"Samuel ..." Edic said, stepping forward and extending his hand for a handshake.
"Since Ethan wants to continue improving, we’ll be relying on you."
Then he leaned in slightly and lowered his voice,
"Just ... keep things within limits."
Samuel raised a brow.
Edic gave a helpless smile.
"He can’t outshine everyone else on set. If he overdoes it, it’ll create problems. So guide him —but don’t push him too far."
Samuel nodded, though he had to suppress a chuckle.
Edic then turned back to Ethan, forcing a polite smile.
"My great ancestor," he said half-jokingly, "even if you want to improve, can you at least do it tomorrow?"
"The training hour isn’t over yet," Ethan replied, frowning slightly.
Edic stared at him, exasperated.
What exactly did people see in this guy?
Sure, his looks could charm the girls —but even the men admired him like some kind of untouchable figure.
Were they all blind?
Because from where Edic stood, nothing about Ethan felt easy to deal with.
Especially not moments like this—
When he had to answer simple questions that shouldn’t even require discussion.
Still—
He had no choice.
Ethan was his artiste.
Someone he had invested time and effort into grooming.
Letting out a quiet sigh, Edic forced another composed smile.
"If it’s about the training hour, I’ll have the company compensate you," he said. "But you need to come with me now."
Ethan adjusted his stance again and swung his sword lightly through the air.
"Let me finish this round. I’ll come after that."
Edic almost snapped.
But he took a deep breath instead, forcing himself to stay calm as much as he can.
"Train tomorrow, Ethan," he said more firmly. "Come with me today. Signing the contract is just as important as training."
He paused before adding,
"Because if you don’t sign it ... all this training won’t matter. You won’t even get the chance to perform."
Ethan’s movement halted.
He turned to look at Edic, a faint crease still between his brows.
Edic gave a small nod, gathering the last bit of patience he had.
"The contract for The Empress’s Grief is resting on the table," he said. "It’s waiting for your signature. If you delay, they might reconsider casting you, and I’m sure you wouldn’t want that??"
Ethan’s displeasure was evident.
But this time—
He didn’t refuse.
Relaxing his stance, he lowered his sword and turned toward the locker room. "Fine, then, waiting for me."
However—
Just as he took a step forward—
His gaze caught the shadow of something ... or someone in the distance.
And he paused.
A flicker of familiarity flashed across his eyes.
She ...
