I Became a Side character in a BL novel

60- Too late, again.

The sun was finally out, slicing through the last of the morning fog as we gathered in the southern courtyard. Horses stomped impatiently, boots scraped the cobblestones, and rifles gleamed across every man's back like some kind of status symbol.

I adjusted the strap of the rifle slung over my shoulder, trying not to look like a complete fraud.

I took a deep breath and moved like I'd done this a thousand times before. I couldn't afford another slip-up like the one this morning.

I eyed the tall, sleek black horse waiting for me elegantly.

But I walked toward it with practiced ease, not letting anyone suspect a thing.

I gritted my teeth, slid one boot into the stirrup, and braced for humiliation. But to my utter disbelief, I lifted myself onto the saddle in one clean, fluid movement. No flailing. My thighs settled instinctively, my hands gripped the reins like they knew exactly what to do.

Okay. Wow.

Whoever said "fake it till you make it" was absolutely right.

I blinked down at my hands. I hadn't even held a toy gun properly in my world-let alone ridden a damn horse-and here I was, actually riding one.

It had to be Rosetta's muscle memory. Rosetta, who had been an avid hunter with her father. She'd done this countless times-ridden horses, held rifles, swung swords. Her body remembered it all.

A loud crack echoed through the courtyard. The Countess had fired the signal shot.

The Hunt had officially begun.

Horses surged forward, hooves thundering against the earth as the party galloped through the open gates and into the wilds of the estate. Trees blurred past-green and gold-sunlight cutting through the canopy like broken glass. Arron rode up front, calm and unreadable as always. Lord Alan and Marquis Rivalls had already taken the lead.

The women, predictably, stayed behind. All of the men-including Lassells and Droit-had joined us.

The only other women, besides the Countess, were me and Princess Sylvia. Although she wasn't exactly solo-she rode behind that silver-haired, stoic, ridiculously hot knight of hers: Steve.

Which left just me and the Countess actually riding on our own with rifles in hand.

I leaned into the wind, rifle slung across my back, adrenaline creeping up my spine. It was almost... fun.

We hadn't gone far when the first real shot rang out through the woods. A sharp crack, followed by rustling and excited shouts.

I slowed my horse just in time to see Lord Alan, rifle raised, stepping down from his mount. At his feet lay a deer, freshly killed-its body sprawled across the forest floor.

Dead.

"Oh, splendid!" someone called.

"He never misses," another added. "That's Alan for you."

From the corner of my eye, I saw Marquis Rivalls' jaw twitch. He clearly didn't like that Alan had drawn first blood. The man was practically vibrating with second-place rage.

"I saw another one down the eastern trail," he suddenly announced. "We should split up. Surround it. Maybe one of us can take it down before it bolts."

Some of the men nodded eagerly, though a few looked hesitant to break formation. Not that the Marquis gave them much of a choice.

"East, then," I muttered, nudging my horse forward.

The trail forked. Most of the riders took the broader path, their laughter fading into the canopy. I veered toward the smaller one-narrower, steeper, wild.