Witchbound Villain: Infinite Loop
210 – Winning the Round Table Bachelor Race

Today, Galahad and Landevale accompanied Dirk on a mission of utmost importance.

At long last, Dirk’s and his companions’ families would arrive on this planet, finally possessing the means to bypass the rift in the sky. They had chosen a discreet location in the southern part of the Soulnaught Empire, near the Edensor Kingdom, to receive them. However, on their way, they encountered an unexpected figure.

Galahad and Landevale blinked at the sight of Emperor Burn and Empress Morgan traveling in a carriage toward their winter retreat villa. Before they could offer their greetings and curtsies, the man in the carriage stopped them with a single statement.

“Brother, it’s me, Gawain.”

He removed the ring from his finger, and his form shifted back to his true self. The woman beside him, supposedly the Empress, followed suit, returning to her original appearance—Marissa Lombardi, who now regarded them with an awkward smile.

Ah. Of course, there was a catch.

Marissa could only grumble internally.

Why else would the Emperor’s mad dog suddenly propose marriage to her? Naturally, it had been part of an imperial mission.

This was divine retribution.

Karma.

The heavens had finally come to settle the score.

After all, she had once subtly but brazenly declared herself the future empress. She had never been directly punished for such audacity—until now. And what was her penance? Posing as the Empress in a covert and potentially perilous mission.

Not that it was inherently dangerous—if her only role was to stand in for the Empress, then it was hardly a risk at all. But given the circumstances, and the fact that Gawain had been the one to bring her here… Well.

It could be dangerous.

This was Gawain, after all. The Emperor’s mad dog.

For the record, she had not been briefed on the true purpose of this mission. All she had been told was to play the part of the Empress. That was all. Yet, seeing how even Galahad and Landevale—ranked second and third in the Round Table—had not initially recognized them as impostors, a distinct sense of unease settled in her chest.

This was a direct order from the Emperor himself.

And initially, only Gawain had known.

Why else would he have needed to marry her to prepare for this mission? If not to bind her, to ensure her silence?

“So… who is this?” Landevale finally asked, addressing Gawain.

“My wife,” Gawain answered flatly.

A beat of silence. Galahad and Landevale exchanged glances, then turned back to Gawain, blinking in unison.

“When did you get married, brother?” Galahad narrowed his eyes.

“Yesterday,” Gawain replied. “We haven’t had the chance to celebrate yet. I had to bring her here immediately for an urgent mission from His Majesty.”

Galahad’s eyes darkened with suspicion. “Wait… You… married someone for a mission?”

Landevale let out a scandalized gasp. “You actually did it? This mad dog…”

Gawain’s jaw twitched, a muscle ticking in irritation. “I’m not so much of a bastard that I’d leave a woman unmarried after asking her to play my wife.”

Galahad flinched, his eyes flashing dangerously red, while Landevale blushed, turning an alarming shade of scarlet in a poof.

“This fucker—” Galahad’s expression contorted between fury and barely restrained violence. “Watch your damn mouth.”

Gawain, ever the instigator, merely sneered.

And just like that, their old rivalry flared anew.

It had been some time since they had faced each other like this. Gawain had always harbored resentment toward Galahad, who had the privilege of serving directly under Burn’s command while Gawain was sent away to act as the Emperor’s shadow. Yes, his position proved the extent of the Emperor’s trust in him, but it could never compare to Galahad’s role as Burn’s closest aide.

And beyond that—

They had both been the last bachelors in the Round Table.

Technically, they still were.

But while Galahad remained officially unattached, it was an open secret that he was pursuing Landevale. Whether the relationship would move forward was entirely up to her.

Gawain, on the other hand—

His work had ensured that he had no time for relationships. He carried too many secrets, bore too many enemies. He managed too much of the empire’s clandestine affairs—underground dealings, intelligence networks, black markets. He was the Emperor’s hidden blade and his untraceable wealth.

He had once overseen the Sator Merchant Group before Burn repurposed it. He controlled ties with the assassins’ guilds, the information brokers, the illicit trades no noble would ever acknowledge publicly.

He did not have the luxury of courtship.

But now? The Emperor had ordered him to take a wife.

And not just any wife—one handpicked by His Majesty himself.

A woman intelligent enough not to betray him.

One of the most beautiful noblewomen on the continent.

Well.

Not quite as beautiful as the Empress, of course. But the Empress was in a category of her own. Gawain had always revered Burn as a god—so how could he expect his own wife to compare to the wife of a god?

A donkey and an alicorn were, at the end of the day, both equine.

That was close enough.

And now, finally, he had the chance to rub all of this in Galahad’s face.

But this… unexpectedly, made Marissa blush.

So—so it wasn’t just about binding her to silence? It wasn’t just about ensuring secrecy?

This man—this cold, ruthless, Emperor’s mad dog—had married her not out of necessity, but because he refused to leave a woman unmarried after asking her to pose as his wife?

H-how… sweet.

For the first time in her life, Marissa saw something beyond politics, beyond manipulation and strategy. The man beside her—Gawain Agravaine—was such a gentleman that he would unhesitatingly marry a stranger, simply because his mission required them to play the role of husband and wife.

Landevale, watching the growing flush on Marissa’s face, exhaled sharply and brushed the back of her hand against her own cheek in an attempt to cool the warmth spreading there. She turned to Marissa with a knowing look.

“You two, stop bickering,” she muttered at Gawain and Galahad before shifting her attention fully to Marissa. “Miss Lombardi… uh, Lady Agravaine, are you okay with this?”

Marissa startled, her thoughts snapping back to the present. “O-okay with what?”

Landevale gave her a flat look. “Getting married to this idiot, of course.”

“Huh? I—I…” Marissa faltered, suddenly feeling far too aware of the weight of Gawain’s presence beside her. “Dame Landevale, I don’t… mind…”

Landevale sighed. “Well, you’re already married to him, so I suppose that answers that.”

At this, Gawain scoffed, crossing his arms. “Who are you calling an idiot, Landevale?”

“Right,” Galahad cut in. “That title coming out of your mouth is reserved for me.”

“You two—” Landevale flushed, exasperated. “Why is it that the only time you agree on anything, it’s something stupid?!”

A knock at the carriage door interrupted their conversation.

Immediately, Gawain slipped the ring back onto his finger, his expression unchanging. Marissa followed suit, her movements a touch more hesitant but precise. In an instant, the Emperor and Empress had returned.

When the door swung open, Dirk stood there, smiling and nodding in greeting. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s almost time to depart. Or shall we go together?”

Galahad turned toward Gawain, his voice measured. “Your Majesty, would you like to accompany us?”

Without hesitation, Gawain gave a curt nod, his grip tightening around Marissa’s hand in an effortless display of familiarity. Meanwhile, Marissa—still unaccustomed to how naturally he acted as if they had been together for years—simply blushed and kept silent.

Galahad, resolutely ignoring the unnecessary display of affection, turned back to Dirk. “Let’s proceed, then.”

As the carriage resumed its journey, now making an additional stop before reaching its final destination, Galahad cast Gawain a sidelong glance, his gaze questioning why he had chosen to come personally under Burn’s guise instead of entrusting the task to someone else.

Gawain met his stare briefly before flicking his eyes toward Landevale and Marissa, then back to him. The meaning was clear—this was something too significant to entrust to another, or worse, it directly involved Landevale in a way that made speaking carelessly impossible.

Galahad held his gaze for a moment before exhaling silently, his expression smoothing into understanding. He withdrew from the unspoken conversation, allowing himself instead to listen idly to the small talk unfolding between Landevale and Marissa.

Because despite their constant rivalry, he and Gawain were still the two closest extensions of Burn’s will. And for that, some things would always remain unsaid.

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