The Unlucky Bride Is Loved by the Fortunate Desert King - Chapter 32 – The Sorcerer’s Apprentice

“My, my… to think the first thing you’d call me after all these years is ‘old man.’ You’ve grown quite cheeky, haven’t you? Haven’t you, Asy?”

Al, who just moments ago had looked ready to grab Master Lantern by the collar, froze like he’d been struck by lightning.

“No way…!”

Then, in the next instant, he dropped to one knee on the sand, not caring that his clothes were getting dirty, and bowed deeply.

“It has been a long time, Teacher—no, Master. Even though I didn’t recognize you, my behavior was unforgivable. Please pardon my rudeness.”

“L-Lord Al!?” What was happening? Just moments ago, Al had been accusing Master Lantern—hadn’t he?

And yet now, he was bowing his head in full apology. What in the world was going on? I could only stare in confusion at Al’s sudden change.

A moment later, Ishaq finally caught up, gasping for breath.

“My apologies for the delay… I finally caught up…!” It wasn’t that Ishaq was unfit, but against Al riding full speed on Tama, he didn’t stand a chance.

When he arrived and saw his master kneeling before the old merchant, Ishaq’s eyes went wide.

“Ishaq. You remember him too, don’t you?” At Al’s words, Ishaq’s eyes widened even further.
“It was you…!”

“Lord Al, what’s going on!?” At Master Lantern’s urging, Al rose to his feet.

Then, looking embarrassed, like a boy caught doing something naughty, he confessed.

“Yuzu, this man is the former royal sword instructor, Master Euphorbia Mughal — the strongest swordsman in the kingdom. No one surpasses him. Both my father and grandfather learned the sword under him… as did I.”

“The royal sword instructor…!? The strongest swordsman in the kingdom!? Master Lantern!?”
My jaw dropped open.

After all, Master Lantern was an elderly man who struggled even to set up his tent.
I had only offered to help him because he looked like he was having trouble.

Seeing how I still couldn’t believe it, the master chuckled softly. “Well, that was in my younger days. Now I’m just an old man. These days, I feel more than ever that I can’t win against time.”

Al’s face clearly said he didn’t believe it. “Even when you were active, I could barely land a single strike against you. I’ve never heard of any swordsman who could.”

Al — the same Al who could defeat a group of thugs with ease — couldn’t even land one hit on Master Lantern…?

It was hard to imagine. The image of the mighty, fearsome Al and the frail old man who always said his back hurt simply didn’t fit together.

“Why would you pretend to be a mere merchant? If you had sent word, I would have arranged the finest room and seat for you,” Al said sharply.

It was true — for someone of such greatness to be selling Turkish lamps at the Alf Layla wa Layla festival was suspiciously out of place.

The master raised his eyes to the star-filled sky, calm and clear.

“My time as your sword instructor is long past. My hands have long since let go of the sword. This time, by chance, I heard through the wind that my beloved disciple would perform the sword dance at the festival. I only came to see him — that’s all. And as a bonus, I found myself an adorable shop assistant.”

He had come all the way just to see his dear disciple — Al. (And yet, he gave up his chance to see Al’s performance so that I could go instead…)

A pang of guilt welled up inside me.

“Now then, my dear disciple, Asy… I hear you’re unhappy that I took Yuzu along. I wonder why that is. What exactly is your relationship, hmm?”

The master asked playfully, pretending not to know. Ishaq bowed respectfully and whispered something into his ear.

“I see. So that’s how it is. Thank you for explaining, Ishaq.” Then, the master smiled and said,

“Well then, Asy. How about a little match between us? That’s what a prince must do if he wishes to claim the princess, isn’t it? And I suppose that makes me… the evil sorcerer in this story.”

“Master…” Al furrowed his brow, his expression tense and wary.

“Yuzu often calls me a magician, you know. So, let’s see for ourselves, my dear student — whether you, too, can use a little magic.”

Master Lantern narrowed his long, sharp eyes behind his round glasses.
The calm grayish hue in them glinted under the moonlight — sharp and dangerous, like the edge of a blade.

“Master Lantern!? That’s reckless! You said your back was hurting just yesterday!” I cried out, but the old man simply curved his lips into a sly grin.

“Ha! I don’t need to win. Just seeing how much my student has grown is fortune enough.”
“Please don’t…”

To me, it only looked like the muscular, battle-hardened Al would crush Master Lantern to pieces.

Before I realized it, Ishaq had come to stand beside me.

“Lady Yuzu,” he said gently, “that name the master keeps using — ‘Asy’ — that was Lord Al’s childhood name.”

“Asy…? But his name is Al?”

The “A” made sense, but where did the “sy” sound come from? I voiced my confusion, and for some reason Ishaq’s face stiffened slightly.

He averted his gaze for a moment.

“In this country, childhood names often differ greatly from one’s true name… In any case, there’s no need to worry. Neither of them is the type to harm the other. Please rest assured.”

He gave me a calm smile, trying to ease my concern.

“Besides,” he added quietly, “even if Master Mughal is like a parent to him, Lord Al will not stay quiet while being called by his childhood name again and again.”
“Ah…”

The air around us crackled faintly — a silent current of tension born from the stare between master and disciple.

“Draw your sword, Asy. That shamshir at your waist — surely it’s not just for show?”

“Of course not. If I win, I’ll take Yuzu back. And if you win — what then?” Al’s hand went to the hilt of his sword. Even against his old master, he had no intention of backing down.

“Well now, I hadn’t planned to ask for anything, but that would make things dull, wouldn’t it? Oh yes… I’ve gained quite a clever little shopkeeper lately. Traveling the world with Yuzu doesn’t sound too bad. Don’t you think so, Yuzu?” “Master Lantern…”

The old man winked at me with a mischievous smile.

But Al didn’t take it as a joke.

“In that case,” he said firmly, “all the more reason I can’t lose. Yuzu is my bride.”

With a clear metallic shaan, Al drew his sword from its sheath.

“Then take her from me by force, if you can — you greenhorn.”

Al’s presence was like that of a young lion, fierce and burning, while Master Lantern smiled with the calm weight of years — a predator who’d already seen countless battles.

The two men glared at each other, neither moving an inch. Then Ishaq stepped forward, like a referee taking his place.

“Then, with your permission, I shall give the signal to begin. The duel will start when this earring touches the ground.”

At the Alf Layla wa Layla festival, men also dressed in finery. Ishaq removed one of his earrings — a rounded, lotus-shaped piece of crystal or glasswork — and held it carefully in his hand.

Silver filigree connected the lotus to a string of gems tied in a traditional knot for good fortune, with a long, rough-cut, teardrop-shaped stone — black as obsidian — dangling beneath. A delicate tassel completed the design, making it both ornate and dignified.

It was clearly one of Ishaq’s most precious possessions — something that should never even touch the ground.

Yet there was a quiet, unshakable resolve in his eyes as he held it out.

In the sea of desert night, a white lotus fell soundlessly, swallowed by the darkness. The scene was so still, so beautiful, it could have been a painting.

Then — thud. The lotus vanished into the sand.

That was the signal for the duel to begin.