MTL - Fight To the Third Generation - Chapter 8 tennis lessons

The previous life is nothing but a joke. Being used completely then abandoned mercilessly. How can I be this stupid to not even notice such an obvious scam? Fortunately, I can have a second chance with my rebirth. Sister, Brother Yi and whoever mistreated me in my previous life, are you ready for my revenge and the counterattack of a princess?

“Classes” are given at the age of 10, and the presence or absence of “skills” greatly affect life. Arel, the son of “Sword Princess” Fara and “Magic King” Leon, has been branded as “Classless”… But even without a job or skills, Arel believes he can persevere through effort.

This story tells the life of two people, a noble only in name and an older wife from the army, married through a tentative agreement. In the bone-chilling cold, they spend their time hunting, gutting, and cooking by the fireplace. Their daily life passes peacefully. This is the warm love story recounting their daily lives.

The clock struck midnight when Ruelle heard the echo of footsteps. She tensed, the fine hairs on the back of her neck standing on end in the cool night air.“You shouldn't be here,” Ruelle whispered, her voice a breathless murmur. The silhouette finally came to stand under the moonlight, his dark red eyes watching her and his inky black hair ruffling.“Shouldn't I?” His voice was a dark caress, and she stood there captivated by the danger he exuded like perfume.“I haven’t seen you for the last two days,” his tone low. His hand reached out, fingers brushing against the silk of her nightgown, tracing the trembling outline of her collarbone. “Tell me, were you avoiding me, or perhaps... entertaining other offers?”Ruelle’s heart raced, her breaths shallow. She declared, “I don't belong to anyone.”“A bold claim,“ he murmured, his breath a tantalising chill against her skin as he leaned in. ”Yet here you are, pulse racing, your body tensed as if in anticipation of my touch.”His fingers gripped her chin, tilting her face towards his. The moonlight caught his eyes, revealing a glint of predatory intent. “Or must I remind you whose touch you truly crave?”