Chapter 147 The Unfairness of Bullying a Girl
"Why must you persist in this?" Jordan's hopes for Daphne's victory were palpable. "Trust me, begin with one hundred."Daphne, however, remained mute, her gaze fixed on Charles. She was awaiting his decision. If he chose to start at one hundred meters, she would have no choice but to comply, taking it round by round."The disparity between three hundred meters and fifty isn't merely the distance," Charles finally voiced his thoughts after a moment of contemplation. "Are you certain you wish to jump directly to competing at three hundred meters?"Daphne's response was succinct: "Yes.""Very well," Charles conceded."Can't you show a modicum of compassion?" Jordan chided, patting Charles on the shoulder. "Is it truly fair to bully a girl in this manner?"Charles refrained from responding, instead picking up the gun once more. This wasn't an act of bullying, but rather an opportunity for competition."You may go first," Charles suggested, not wanting to put undue pressure on Daphne."No need," Daphne dismissed his offer. She was determined to win against Charles on equal terms. "We'll adhere to the original sequence."Upon hearing this, Jordan, Charles, and the surrounding professionals all instinctively turned their attention to her. How was she maintaining such composure?Charles chose not to press the matter further, instead concentrating on his shooting. This time, his focus was more intense than any of his previous visits to the range. Despite knowing that Daphne was unlikely to hit the target at three hundred meters, he was committed to giving his best. Losing was not an option.Observing his determination, Jordan studied him more closely, suddenly intrigued by the nature of the competition between him and Daphne. The seriousness of it all was surprising.Bang!The sound echoed. The bullet left the muzzle, aimed at the target three hundred meters away. Jordan retrieved his binoculars for a closer look and was taken aback to see a bullseye. Charles had previously hit within the nine or ten rings at three hundred meters when shooting for leisure. But this time, he had hit the center, taking the competition a notch higher.Was his desire to win truly that intense?Having returned the gun, Charles turned to Daphne, awaiting her response. Daphne, however, didn't even spare him a glance as she pulled the trigger with the same nonchalance as before, aiming and firing at the target.At the sound of the gunshot, Jordan immediately reached for the binoculars. As intrigued as he was by Charles, Daphne held a greater fascination for him. Not everyone could score a perfect ten at fifty meters on their first visit to the range.However, when he saw the results at three hundred meters, he was stunned into silence. He put down the binoculars, rubbed his eyes, and looked again, only to witness the same extraordinary scene—a perfect score!In that moment, a single thought crossed his mind: Could these two be defying the odds?A perfect ten!This wasn't just fifty meters or even a hundred meters. This was three hundred meters! And with a simple, almost obsolete rifle, no less."Damn, a ten!" he exclaimed."This girl, who is she? She’s remarkable, isn't she?" one of the spectators murmured."I couldn’t score a perfect ten even if my life depended on it," another chimed in.
The range was suddenly abuzz with the chatter of professional shooters, their eyes riveted on Daphne as though she were a precious gem on display. Charles, caught in the moment, wordlessly snatched the binoculars from Jordan's grasp. The sight of the bullet hole, dead center just like his own, sent his mind into a whirl. He had strained every sinew to achieve that perfect ten. In stark contrast, Daphne had fired her shot with an ease that suggested she was a mere fifty meters from the target, seemingly unfazed by the challenge. "Daphne," Jordan began, his tone shifting to one of genuine intrigue, "Are you interested in pursuing a career with the military? My father could write you a letter of recommendation."Before Daphne could formulate a response, Charles interjected. He yanked Jordan back by the collar, his voice laced with warning, "She’s not interested, keep your ideas to yourself."“But she’s a rare talent in shooting...”"One more word and I'll have Edwin take you back for some discipline," Charles threatened. Jordan shot him a meaningful glance. Charles was notorious for leveraging his connections to get his way. What a scumbag! Meanwhile, Daphne remained impassive, disengaged from the brewing conflict. She was no shooting prodigy; her aim was the result of countless bullets fired in practice. Charles's eyes darkened as he released Jordan, turning his deep, inscrutable gaze onto Daphne, "When did you become such an excellent shot?”"I'm not obligated to answer you," Daphne retorted flatly, sidestepping his question. Her evasiveness only served to fuel Charles's curiosity. Daphne cast her eyes on the targets and proposed, "Since we're at a draw, let’s up the ante."Charles looked puzzled, while Jordan also leaned in closer to hear her proposition. "Shooting in the rain, shooting in the fog," Daphne declared confidently. Charles’s brow creased ever so slightly. He was confident under normal conditions, but the introduction of external variables shook his certainty. Daphne’s confidence suggested she held the upper hand. Charles was faced with a daunting proposition. If he agreed and then lost the challenge, he knew he would have to relinquish any hope of approaching her again in this lifetime. After a moment of reflection, he finally spoke, "Let's talk about it next time. I'm not up for competing today."Daphne didn't press the issue. She recognized that Charles had the right to call for a pause in their competition. With matters seemingly settled, she prepared to take her leave. She had already spent almost half a day there, and she suspected Jesse was still waiting for her to show up for work."I've got to go," she announced, returning the borrowed equipment. Before leaving, she looked at Charles and reminded him, "I hope you remember what you promised."Charles's lips formed a tight line, his expression as impassive as ever. He understood her warning: he was not to disturb her until he had fulfilled his promise."I'll drive you back," he offered, his tone as cool as ever. "It's hard to get a taxi around here.""What do you mean, 'go'?" Jordan interjected, clearly smitten by Daphne. He stopped them both, insisting, "Since you're here, why not join us for lunch? We have a little tradition here: anyone who scores a perfect ten on their first try within three hundred meters gets a meal on us."The professionals looked on in confusion. They had never heard of such a tradition.Jordan turned to them, questioning, "Isn’t that right?""Oh, absolutely!""Definitely.""Please, both of you, join us."They were dead serious in their playful charade.Daphne realized they were stirring trouble but found it difficult to outright refuse in such a situation.Meanwhile, the Smiths were a well-established family in Gedser, with a heritage dating back centuries. Most notably, their patriarch, Edwin, came from a distinguished red background. In his generation, Edwin's two sons had chosen different paths—one took up business, and the other decided to serve their country.Jordan's father was the latter, the one dedicated to national service. Conversely, Charles had mentioned before that Edwin's father was the successful businessman.Not wanting Jesse to worry unnecessarily, Daphne sent him a message and included the address where she would be.Thirty minutes later, Jordan had lunch all prepared. The table was laden with various soups and even featured a fine bottle of wine. His aim was simple: to get Charles tipsy and coax information out of him."Daphne, do you mind if I call you that?" asked Jordan, who genuinely regarded Daphne as a sister. She was kind-hearted, attractive, and to top it off, an excellent marksman. He had always admired that kind of woman.
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