Runaway Bride

Mr. Swordsman sat on the floor, his bare chest rising and falling with slow, controlled breaths. The faint morning light filtered through the room, catching on the thin sheen of sweat that traced over his tense muscles. He remained still, listening to the silence. It was a rare thing these past chaotic days. It had a weight to it, a presence almost as tangible as the blade resting at his side.

His fingers drifted toward the hilt, hesitating.

For a long moment, he did nothing.

Then, a quiet sigh escaped him as he withdrew his hand.

A butterfly flitted into the room, its delicate wings carrying it aimlessly through the stagnant air.

"What a morning," he murmured, his eyes half-lidded as he watched it dance.

Today was the wedding. The grand event. And yet, his mind remained shackled to what he heard the night before.

He clenched his fists.

Getting on his feet, he draped his dark cloak over himself and pulled his hat low over his eyes. "As expected, the boy's weak," he muttered, stepping toward the mirror. "Telling himself lies. Become like me? It's funny"

His reflection stared back at him—a man marked by rigorous training and burdens that refused to ease with time. The bandages wrapped haphazardly around his wounds stood out against his skin, but the pain they held was nothing. A minor inconvenience.

No, the real pain had always been something else.

It settled in his chest like an immovable weight. A presence, familiar and unrelenting. A rage that had long become a part of him, woven into the very fabric of his being. He had embraced it, let it consume everything that might have been. It was his gift. His blessing. The only thing that kept him from breaking.

For a man forged in war and baptized in blood had no use for something as trivial as sentiment.

Yet…

Now, the belief he had carried for so long the unshakable truth that emotions were nothing but shackles was being tested.

"Those siblings…" 

"This job, this mission. Every step I took with them only made it more infuriating," he whispered. "Their smiles and jokes, as to be expected from weaklings. A warrior should only feel pleasure when looking down on their enemies. Pathetic they are, all of them"

He exhaled sharply, pressing his fingers to his temple as a dull headache pulsed against his skull.

Why am I feeling like this? What is this nagging sensation clawing at my mind? Why do I give them my attention? 

I had always known my place in this world. A blade had no need for distractions, no need for purpose beyond the strike.

And yet.

Those visions. The flickering images of children whose faces were blurred but that one girl. 

Who…

Who are they again?

#

The air felt alive with music drifting through the halls, decorations meticulously placed, and workers scurrying about to ensure everything met the impossibly high standards of their noble master. And yet, within the banquet hall, there was a rare pocket of peace.

Emilia sat quietly, watching as the pianist's melody guided the movements of the bride and her father. There was a certain charm to the way they danced—something fluid, something elegant. Emilia couldn't quite grasp it, but it was there.

"I see no point in practising on the wedding day, Matilda," Kaden said.

Matilda groaned, placing a hand over her face. "You're the one who's always busy, Father. We can't just let you ruin the dance and embarrass us all."

Kaden twirled his daughter before stopping to glance at the Matilda. "Without my work, you wouldn't have a wedding, nor this lifestyle you're all so comfortable with. Not to mention, you wouldn't even be marrying a prestigious man of my choosing. So, a little gratitude would be nice."

Matilda crossed her arms, her face reddening. "Harold and I have been friends for ages, Father—"

"I don't want to hear that! Today is not the day for this nonsense!" Kaden yelled, raising a hand. "I've said it before, and I'll say it again—you cannot get married before your older sister. Not in this house!"

Emilia blinked, her arms pressed against herself. This situation was straight out the novels she'll read back home and damn is she ready to enjoy every bit of it.

That's until a small voice cut through the air.

"Would you two stop already?" Jane whispered. "It's my big day, right? Can we please have one peaceful morning without arguing?"

Matilda huffed before plopping down beside Emilia as the father and daughter continued their dance.

After some time, Matilda nudged Emilia.

"Hey, I'm sorry about last night. You know, about the whole… wet footsteps thing."

Emilia tilted her head, her lips curling into an all-too-pleasant smile. "Oh, that? Don't worry about it. I'm just glad you're safe." Her smile darkened ever so slightly. "But next time, please don't do that again. I nearly mistook you for some dark-cloaked assassin sneaking up to stab me from behind. And believe me, I wasn't a bit terrified just felt sorry for the poor lad."

Matilda eyed Emilia for a moment, then burst into laughter. "Alright, alright, I promise. No more lurking in the shadows and stabbing. Still, I only went out to have a glass of water so it's all good"

Emilia's gaze flickered toward the clock. Time to begin her duties.

With a quick bow, she excused herself and made her way through the halls.

First stop: Mr. Swordsman.

Just as she raised her fist to knock, the door swung open. Before she could say a word, he leapt out of the window without so much as a glance in her direction.

Emilia's hand remained hovered in the air.

"Good morning, I guess." 

She shrugged and moved on to the next.

Pasta.

She didn't bother knocking. "Hey, sleepyhead, time for the wedding." 

She pushed open the door.

Her eyes widened.

Pasta's bed was empty.

Emilia stood frozen for a second before a realization settled deep in her gut.

If he was up early… something was definitely wrong.

#

The wedding venue was nothing short of breathtaking. An elegant display of wealth and refinement. 

 Beautifully prepared meals sat atop pristine white tablecloths, clear glasses sparkling under the sunlight, and bright pink and blue roses adorned the circular tables while finely dressed guests arrived in extravagant carriages.

Amongst the elegance, Kaden's guards patrolled the area, their uniforms crisp and their eyes sharp.

And then there was Emilia—seconds, no, milliseconds away from stabbing herself in the heart with her clipboard.

It's too much…

She could feel her very soul crumbling under the sheer overload of cuteness around her.

The once-barren training yard where two insufferable swordsmen had fought just days ago had been completely transformed into a dreamlike garden. Flowers of every colour bloomed across the field.

 And why, why are there ducklings waddling about in every corner? Where did they come from? Who allowed this? Are they even legal to be this adorable?

Emilia let out a long, silent scream into her clipboard.

Still, despite being stationed at the entrance, she couldn't help but steal glances at the ceremony whenever she could.

Why am I the one stuck with this boring job? Out of the three of us, I got stuck with the… the…

She frowned.

What's this role even called again? No, never mind, I don't care!

Pasta was undercover inside the party, mingling with the guests. Mr Swordsman was perched on the roof, giving him a clear view of the entire venue from above. And she. Poor, unfortunate she was standing here, playing glorified doorman while flower petals rained all around her.

This is the worst!

They had all been given disguises as Kaden's workers—well, except Mr Swordsman, who had refused to change his clothes, ignored all attempts to make him blend in, and instead remained hidden in the shadows, like the brooding swordsman he was.

He now stood on the roof, arms crossed, his presence barely detectable. His energy pulsed beneath the surface as he silently observed everything happening below. He could sense the individual life forces scattered throughout the venue—strong, weak, vibrant, faint.

And then there was one that stood out.

Pasta.

Something about his presence felt… off.

#

Pasta grabbed a few plates of food, having absolutely no clue what he was piling onto his dish. 

He plopped down at a table, tuning out the meaningless chatter of the guests around him. Nobles and merchants exchanged pleasantries, their words flowing like sweetened honey—sickly and fake. Pasta, on the other hand, took a lazy bite of whatever the heck was on his fork, completely uninterested in the politics of the rich.

"Hello there."

A girl sat beside him.

"Hi."

He barely spared her a glance and continued eating.

"You look down. Is something wrong?"

Pasta wordlessly slid one of his plates toward her.

She chuckled. "Oh, no. I'm not here for that."

"So, what are you here for?" he said, still chewing.

She stretched out a hand. "I'm Divi. They say weddings are the best place to make connections, or so they say."

Pasta arched a brow, finally looking up. "You're wasting your time, then. I'm dead broke." 

He ignored her hand entirely.

"Oh, I see." 

She smirked, retracting her hand. "I heard that everyone here is either someone influential or a close friend of one. So which are you?"

"I'm more of a guest. Or better yet," he said, swallowing a bite, "I'm just here for the weird food and noisy men."

She laughed. "You're quite the comedian. But it's rude not to share your name after I've already given you mine."

"Pasta."

Her smile widened. "Like the food?"

His eye twitched. "Yes, like the food."

Before Divi could reply, a fresh wave of dishes arrived. The chefs walked in, proudly carrying platters of roasted meats and glistening cuts.

Pasta's eyes locked onto the meat. His lips parted slightly, a single bead of drool betraying him—before he wiped it away and cleared his throat, forcing himself to turn back to Divi.

Unfortunately for him, she saw everything.

Divi gave him a knowing smirk. "And here I thought you were some dark swordsman with a mysterious past," she whispered, leaning in ever so slightly. "But no. Turns out you're just a simple and hilarious man with an undeniable weakness for good food."

She chuckled, tapping his chest lightly. "Interesting. Very interesting."

Pasta's body stiffened, and his face relaxed as he met her eyes.

However in his mind...

What's wrong with this girl?! Why is she so close?! And interesting? I'm interesting?! Who just says that to someone's face?! Lady, I just want some meat! Nothing is interesting about that?! If not for my redemption I would have indulged myself in that beauty.

"I see," he whispered, shifting his gaze toward the distance as the faint breeze carried his hair. "Still, I never claimed to be a dark mysterious swordsman. There is a beauty to simplicity after all"

Divi's eyes sparkled with admiration unaware of the inner battles of Mighty Pasta.

#

Jane stepped forward, her every movement in sync with the grand melody that filled the garden. 

The guests stood in silence as the groom waited at the altar.

Jane's gown, a masterpiece of delicate embroidery and shimmering fabric, trailed elegantly behind her and a veil concealed her face. Arm-in-arm with her father, she took measured steps toward the waiting groom and priest.

Meanwhile, Matilda arrived beside Pasta, breathless from exertion.

"Hey, Divi. Adventurer. Whew, I made it."

"You look like you ran a mile, dearie," Divi said, her arms still linked with Pasta's.

Matilda's gaze flickered to their clasped arms. "Looks like you two are getting along."

"Oh, we are," Divi said, pressing closer to Pasta. "Careful now, Matilda another wedding might just be around the corner."

Pasta stood frozen, his mind racing through every possible escape route. He couldn't even concentrate on finding said route when more than half his senses fought their won battle against the meaty feast just a table away from him.

On the roofs, Mr Swordsman's eyes flickered. He turned slightly, scanning the life forces in the room. The guests were ordinary, their energy untrained, untouched by battle. The only exceptions were Kaden's guards, the adventurers and...

His fingers hovered over his blade.

He's here.

At the entrance, Emilia watched 

the ceremony, imagining herself in Jane's place, walking down the aisle in a dazzling gown to meet her bulky elf prince.

A group of cooks passed by, carrying a towering masterpiece of a cake. Yet that wasn't what grabbed her attention.

She had no real ability to detect unknown life forces, but even she could sense this faint, almost imperceptible presence. It was familiar. Then there was the subtle smell in the air.

Pasta, despite his current dilemma, smelt it as well. His eyes flicked toward the bride. His muscles tensed.

Mr. Swordsman exhaled slowly, fingers brushing against his wound.

"So, he managed to get into the party after all," he muttered. "Well, we weren't paid to handle him specifically. So I'll wait for him to make a move… then I'll cut him down."

Matilda slumped into her seat, still catching her breath. Divi released Pasta's arm and moved to her friend's side.

"Dearie, you should rest. You don't look well."

Matilda forced herself upright. "You're right. I'll sit at the back. I don't want my sister to see me like this on her special day."

"You always overthink things. She wouldn't mind. Still, go rest."

With a small nod, Matilda turned and quietly left, disappearing into the back rows.

Jane stood beside the groom, Louie, who exhaled deeply, stealing a glance at the crowd. His father sat in the front row, wearing a proud if slightly stiff smile, while his mother beamed with unfiltered joy.

The music faded as the priest cleared his throat.

"We are gathered here today to witness the union of these two souls," he said, his voice warm and commanding. "It is a splendid day, a day filled with love. But before we proceed with this sacred vow, if anyone has an objection, speak now or forever hold your peace."

A tense silence followed.

Pasta, Emilia, and Mr. Swordsman scanned the crowd, searching for any changes or potential ones.

Outside, the wedding was just as calm. Guards stood at their posts, keeping watch, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

The priest continued.

"Sir Louie Wilson, do you take Jane Velmoré to be your lawfully wedded wife? Will you cherish her in sickness and in health, through poverty and prosperity, and remain devoted to her until the end of your days?"

"I do," Louie said firmly.

The priest turned to Jane. "And Jane, do you take Louie as your lawfully wedded husband? Will you stand by him through all of life's challenges and joys, sharing both the hardships and the triumphs, till death do you part?"

"I—"

BOOM!

Thick smoke consumed the platform as guests shrieked and scattered, their silhouettes lost in the swirling haze.

Pasta's sword flashed as he sprinted toward the bride.

Dark figures emerged from the smoke, one grabbing Jane in a heartbeat.

"Okay then, guess it's time"

Mr. Swordsman moved lazily at first, dropping into the smoke. His blade gleamed—ready to turn every enemy into a corpse.

The pain struck.

A tremor tore through his body, his wound flaring with agony. He staggered and collapsed against a table, wheezing.

"What... sort of gas is this?" h

Meanwhile, Emilia had already moved, scooping up the panicked ducklings and securing them out of harm's way. Then a figure leapt from the smoke, with the bride in hand.

Pasta shot out of the smoke, Divi clutched in one arm, Mr. Swordsman slung over his back.

Emilia rushed to them. "Where's Matilda?!"

Pasta wiped the sweat from his brow. "No idea. She must've gotten out."

Divi coughed, trying to regain her breath. Mr. Swordsman groaned in pain, clutching his side.

"Go," Emilia said. "Mr. Swordsman is injured. You're the only one fast enough to catch them."

"He isn't," Mr. Swordsman whispered. His gaze locked onto Pasta.

Pasta stared back, his grip tightening on his sword. His face darkened.

"Watch me."

He bolted into the forest.

There was no time to plan a detailed strategy for catching them. Knowing that Past took to the trees as he soared from branch to branch, releasing short bursts to detect the fleeing pair.

Got them.

Below, the kidnapper ran, the bride, struggling in his grip.

Pasta gritted his teeth, shifting his sword to the other side that was a bit blunt.

The bandit flung her to the ground, whirling around and drawing his blade just in time to block Pasta's strike.

Sparks flew as both locked eyes.

Pasta twisted his blade, disarming the man in an instant. He drove his elbow into the bandit's face, then pivoted and delivered a kick to the chest.

The man crashed into a tree with a sickening thud.

Pasta exhaled and stepped toward the bride, offering his hand. "Are you alright?"

She nodded. "Y-yes…"

A groan came from the bandit.

He pulled back his hood, revealing a bruised, furious face. "Hey! Give her back! We're in love! That bastard doesn't deserve her!"

Pasta glared at him. "And you think you do?" he asked. "You're a criminal. I commend your boldness for trying to take what you want, but Jane has nothing to do with you. A real man knows when it is over."

The bandit bared his teeth. "She loves me! I'll—"

Pasta glared at him for a moment and sheathed his blade. "You've got some scratches, and I'm already in a bad mood." He turned his back against the bandit. "Scram."

The man hesitated and then sprinted into the woods without another word.

"Come on," he whispered, stretching a hand to the bride. "Let's get you back."

#

Kaden sat with his head in his hands. "He really got to her… my dear Jane…"

Louie's father patted him on the back, offering a silent comfort. The smoke had cleared, and guards were already scrambling to retrieve the missing bride.

Meanwhile, Emilia was kneeling beside Mr. Swordsman, carefully wrapping bandages around his arm. "Why didn't you tell me you were injured?" 

Mr. Swordsman lay on the floor, one arm draped over his forehead. The gas wasn't poisonous, but it had aggravated his wound enough to bring him down. Emilia concentrated some more on the bandaging, making sure not to repeat past mistakes from patching up Pasta.

Kaden shot up so fast his chair toppled over, his voice booming across the garden. "I HIRED YOU ALL TO PROTECT MY DAUGHTER, AND LOOK WHAT HAPPENED!" His arms flailed wildly. "Your swordsman is injured, the other guy is who-knows-where, and, oh, shockingly, the man I paid you to keep out just waltzed into the party! How?! Weren't you in charge of security?!"

Emilia bit her lips before forcing her voice to ring through the garden. "We did our best, sir. You were the one who said not to worry about him." Her eyes flashed. "And I don't see you yelling at your guards. You were the one who swore they had it under control."

Kaden growled, grabbing a chair. and charged at her.

Before he could take another step, Mr. Swordsman sat up, his glare freezing Kaden in place. Even the ducklings in the garden scrambled forward, forming a defensive line in front of Emilia, their tiny wings spread threateningly.

Mr. Swordsman calmly pointed his sword at Kaden. "You take another step, and it'll be your last."

Kaden twitched. "You—!"

Pasta stepped in with the bride and guards following close behind.

Kaden's rage melted instantly. "Sweetie!" He rushed forward, holding her shoulders. "Are you alright? He didn't touch your face, did he?" He reached to lift her veil but she walked past him.

"I'm fine, Father."

Kaden sighed in relief, nodding to himself. "Oh, thank the heavens." He smiled at her sweetly. "I'm sorry, my love. I was so focused on capturing that wretched man that I neglected your wedding. Please, forgive me."

Without a word, she turned and hugged him.

The adventurers smiled at the touching father-daughter moment—well, except for Mr Swordsman, who looked like he'd rather be anywhere else.

Kaden turned to them. "I deeply regret doubting your abilities." He snapped his fingers, and his men brought forward a very large sack of money. "Here. That's double what we agreed on."

Emilia collected it, her eyes sparkling before she stuffed the bag deep into her own.

Pasta smirked down at Mr. Swordsman, still sprawled on the ground. "Well? Anything to say?"

Mr Swordsman yawned, rolling onto his side and dismissing him entirely.

The wedding resumed. The couple exchanged vows again, Louie sighing dreamily, hands trembling slightly.

Mr. Swordsman shot upright, eyes wide. "We need to leave. Now."

Pasta blinked. "Why now?"

"The kiss is the best part," Emilia said, still enraptured as the mother duck perched on her head.

But then Louie lifted the bride's veil.

Matilda smiled before pulling him into a deep, heartfelt kiss.

The crowd erupted into cheers. Until they slowly stopped, noticing what just happened.

Kaden's face drained of all colour.

"M-M-M-MATILDA?!"

Emilia, cheeks still flushed, slowly turned to Pasta. "You grabbed the wrong woman?"

Pasta tried to chuckle, but his feet were already taking slow, cautious steps backwards—with Emilia and Mr Swordsman following suit.

Kaden collapsed to his knees, his expression nothing short of horrified. "Where's Jane?! How?! When?!"

Divi strolled up, popping open a wine bottle as confused murmurs rippled through the crowd. "Relax, relax," she said, already taking a deep swig. "The party's just getting started."

Matilda sighed, stepping forward as she began to explain the switch.

"The man was inside the house the entire time," she revealed. "He posed as one of the new chefs hired for the wedding, while the real chef conveniently slipped away before Father could do his usual headcount."

She folded her arms. "And let's not forget your adventurers. Their positioning made it even easier for his men to get in and out of the celebration."

Divi, still nursing her wine, smirked. "Oh, and I made sure Pasta here didn't do anything too reckless. It was harder than you'd think." She took another swig. "You're welcome."

Matilda gave a soft smile to her now pale Father.

"Jane's with the man she loves," she said. "We knew you'd never approve, so we… handled things."

Kaden twitched violently. "Handled things?! You call this, handling things?!"

Matilda folded her arms. "Also, Louie and I have been in love for years, but because of your business deals with his father, you ignored us."

At that exact moment, Louie's parents began furiously scolding their son.

Meanwhile, Mr. Swordsman and the others were tip-toeing toward the exit.

Kaden's eyes snapped to them. "HEY! You incompetent adventurers! Give me back my money you rascals! GUARDS!!"

The siblings shot him nervous smiles before bolting, Mr. Swordsman stoically keeping pace, and a parade of tiny ducklings waddling after them. Behind them, guards stormed forward in pursuit.

Emilia, wheezing, nearly tripped over her own feet. "What in the world did we just witness?! These people are insane!"

"All rich people are," Mr. Swordsman muttered darkly.

Pasta held his rumbling stomach. "I didn't even have a decent meal back there. Worst wedding ever I tell you"

Emilia rolled her eyes, still smiling. "Oh please when do you ever not think about food? Can you for once appreciate other things like the ridiculous love story we stumbled into?"

Pasta grinned slyly. "Ridiculous? But you'd totally pull this for your elf prince, wouldn't you?"

"Obviously!"

The siblings laughed together, ignoring the mass of guards chasing them.

Mr. Swordsman, glancing at them both, sighed. They weren't the best, he thought.

But maybe, just maybe… he could relax a little around them.