I Accidentally Resurrected My Dead Husband - Chapter 31

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 31
‘Winning the fight isn’t the real problem.’
Ern thought the same, yet the word to step forward wouldn’t come. He was an illegitimate child, yes, but since he was eight years old he’d lived as the Count’s heir and as a knight. Not a Swordsmanship sparring match—they were asking him to brawl like a common street fighter.
But the money would come through, at least. Unlike Yudit, whose conscience was remarkably flexible, Ern felt a pang of guilt about their current circumstances. Yudit brought home all the living expenses; Yudit begged for their food; she even arranged the horse feed. He was dead weight.
‘I’m worse than a freeloader.’
He’d tried to claim his Knight Order pension, but first he’d have to file a Proof of Life Report. The processing was complicated—they said it would take at least six months to verify his identity—so he’d given up.
Besides, he had no desire to announce that he was still alive and invite all the attendant complications.
‘If I’m going to stay at the Mansion and investigate, I should at least pay my share.’
He was confident in a fight. Eyes shut, he’d do it—just this once.
“Please, darling.”
Thinking his silence was refusal, Yudit opened her eyes wide as a rain-soaked puppy and grabbed his sleeve.
“Not out here. People will hear.”
Ern flinched as if he’d heard something scandalous and jerked away from her. Of course, the word itself was neither obscene nor improper, so no one paid them any attention.
“Darling.”
“You only call me that when you want something.”
“Should I call you that all the time, then?”
“Is this a challenge?”
“Just go once. We only need to cover next month’s interest, and we’re done. Right? We don’t even have money for food anymore!”
Seeing Ern waver, Yudit clung to his arm and pleaded. Her wrists, grown thinner from days of worry over the debt, stirred his conscience. Pitiful as she looked, Ern finally relented.
“……Once we’ve covered the interest, we stop. You promise. No second time.”
* * *
“Hyah!”
“Huh-cha!”
A few days later, Yudit was startled twice over at the Illegal Fighting Ring—first by its sheer size, then by the fighters strutting about bare-chested, flexing their muscles. They were all impressively built in their own different ways.
She’d always thought excessive musculature looked crude, but seeing it in the flesh, there was something undeniably masculine about it. Well, not bad at all.
“Here to gawk at the men?”
“I’m just observing Ern’s opponents, to see their condition.”
Of course, she had to hide the fact that Ern was a knight in this place, so she’d decided to call him by his name alone. An illegal fighting ring would surely kick them out if it came to light that he was nobility.
“Wipe your drool first.”
Yudit’s eyes gleamed the way they did when she saw gold coins. Ern scanned the entire room.
Most of them looked like they’d worked hard on their bodies, but nothing particularly impressive stood out. Hm, maybe he should show these amateurs and this woman—who apparently couldn’t tell a real fighter’s frame from a vain peacock’s—what actual combat-honed muscle looked like.
As Ern reached to undo his shirt buttons, Yudit grabbed his wrist urgently.
“Don’t.”
“Why not?”
“Today you need to look like a fighter all talk and no substance.”
But I’ve never been all talk in my life. Never once lacked the skill to back my words.
“If you look weak, fewer people will wager on you. That way, when you win, I’ll collect more from the pool.”
That was the strategy—Ern wins, and Yudit, who bet on him, takes the larger share.
“And when you fight, don’t win too easily. Make it look as close as possible, understood?”
“I haven’t entertained the thought of losing.”
“Of course you haven’t. Obviously.”
“You’ve got a good eye, Herington.”
Ern sounded oddly pleased with himself.
Insufferable man. His skill was undeniable, but skill was skill and arrogance was arrogance. Still, Yudit broke into a wide smile and squeezed his forearm.
“Don’t get hurt. You hear me?”
That way there’d be a second bout, and a third after that. She encouraged him right up until it was time to place the wagers.
After registering as a fighter, Ern headed to the Waiting Room where the gladiators gathered. Regardless of size, they all shared the same grim expression as they warmed up and engaged in posturing.
“Here comes the crowd favorite.”
The moment Ern sat down on a wooden bench with a thud, a man doing arm exercises grinned and winked at him. The wave of disgust that rose from Ern’s chest made him feel nauseated.
“This guy doesn’t even know what ‘crowd favorite’ means, looks like.”
A fighter covered in ugly tattoos across his entire back interjected. Ern was incredulous. How could anyone not know the meaning of that phrase? Sure, half his face was scarred, but he was clearly the best-looking here—of course he’d be a favorite.
“Newbie, ‘crowd favorite’ here means the easiest mark.”
“What does that mean?”
“First-match opponents, we pick ourselves.”
In other words, everyone here saw him as weak and wanted to fight him.
“So I get to choose my opponent?”
“Hah, that’s right. They’ll all say they want to go against you, so you’ll be the one picking in the end.”
“Who’s got the best Durability in here?”
Ern had risen to the provocation.
* * *
“Come now, the match will begin shortly. Those placing wagers, step right up, please.”
Before the bout started, a promoter on one side of the spectator stands clapped his hands and called out in a booming voice, urging the crowd to place their bets.
“There’s nothing to think about here. I’m putting my money on the Iron Fist Ken.”
The man standing before Yudit wagered without hesitation on the Iron Fist Ken.
Iron Fist? Yudit let out a scoff. What a pedestrian nickname. She turned her attention toward the Arena Floor.
On the Arena Floor, Ern—who had just entered—and the Iron Fist Ken were warming up. While Ern merely rotated his wrists lightly, Ken shouted and beat his chest like a gorilla, playing to the crowd’s enthusiasm.
“Iron Fist Ken, you’re handsome!”
“Hahahaha! Who said that! Come out here! I’ll hug you till your ribs break!”
When someone praised Ken’s looks, he threw both hands up high and laughed boisterously. His hands, swinging in the air, glinted brilliantly. Not as a figure of speech, but literally. He was wearing Steel Gauntlets that extended all the way to his wrists, so of course they gleamed.
“What is that?”
Wasn’t that cheating? Who brings steel wrapped around their fists to a match like this?
By contrast, Ern stood there with nothing—no weapon at all. Why had he left his sword behind? The rules explicitly stated that real blades were prohibited, but Wooden Swords were allowed!
“Young lady, where will you place your wager?”
“I, hmm.”
“Once the match begins, no more bets. Come now—the Iron Fist Ken, or that skinny fellow?”
Yudit hesitated for a moment. If Ern had at least brought a Wooden Sword, she wouldn’t have to deliberate. But he must be confident, having come unarmed like this, right? Very well—I’ll go with the plan.
“I’m betting on the skinny one.”
Yudit placed ten thousand gold on Ern. In the original work, wasn’t he praised as an unparalleled knight when it came to pure skill? That ability wouldn’t have gone anywhere just because he lacked a weapon.
Yudit took a deep breath to settle her racing heart, then made her way to the viewing stands. As the referee entered the Arena Floor, the match was declared begun.
“Come on in, rookie.”
Ken beckoned toward Ern with a wave of his hand. Ern let out a dry laugh. Ken had challenged him to an unarmed fight back in the Waiting Room, yet here he was, sporting gauntlets. Well, what else would you expect from an Illegal Fighting Ring?
“Do you know how to show mercy?”
“Hah, if I went after a wimp like you first, what would become of the great Iron Fist Ken’s dignity?”
Several spectators laughed along with Ken’s jab.
“Well then, I suppose I’d better come at you first.”
Don’t say you weren’t warned. Ern made a fist, relaxed his hand, and in the next instant had closed the distance to Ken.
Startled by Ern’s speed, Ken flinched, but after taking one blow to his ribs, his face broke into a triumphant grin.
“That tickles, you bastard! Kahahaha!”
He burst into raucous laughter as if amused by the very notion of iron fists—or empty tin fists, for that matter.
“Ready to take a real hit now, rookie?”
He hurled a punch at Ern, who merely tilted his head to one side, allowing Ken’s strike to pass harmlessly by.
“Slippery as an eel, aren’t you?”
I’ve heard all sorts of strange things in my life, Ern thought. Yet in truth, he was struggling somewhat.
He couldn’t gauge how hard he needed to hit. According to the rules, victory meant subduing the opponent without killing him—keeping him pinned on the ground for ten seconds. But how exactly was he supposed to pin this bouncing fool to the mat without actually crushing his skull?
Moreover, he couldn’t afford to injure himself before the next match. The problem was that he’d always fought with the mindset of sacrificing an arm if it came to that. But now he was being asked to hold back against someone weaker? Ern had never done anything like this before.
“Stop running away! Dammit, what are you here for—tag?”
In the end, Ken, exhausted from chasing after Ern as he evaded every which way, lost his temper.
“You’ve got good Durability, haven’t you?”
“Now you’re just wasting time with pointless questions.”
Ken muttered irritably before responding.
“Yeah, I’ve got good Durability. Since a few hits from you don’t faze me, why don’t you come on and actually try striking me, huh?”
“Don’t regret those words, tin fist.”
“It’s iron fist, you hear?”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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