Chapter 24

"—Your Grace, is it alright for you to leave like this?"

[What do you mean?]

"...I'm not sure if it's okay for that strange man to be by the lady's side."

[One might think you're her father, you're worrying more than I am.]

"...My apologies."

Rach bowed his head. He was a man full of pride, but when it came to the Duke, he was someone willing to lay down his life. That was who Rach was.

And to him, Irene Windler wasn't just a genius magician, but also his 'savior.'

'Since she arrived, His Grace has changed.'

—For the better.

After losing the Duchess, the Duke had been plagued with madness. The wise man they once knew was consumed by the insanity of the cursed sword, gradually becoming more and more cruel. It was heartbreaking to see.

Fortunately, his cruelty was only directed at criminals, not innocent people, but the stench of blood never left the halls of the Galahad estate.

Then, she appeared.

With beauty like a fairy and a warm smile like sunlight, she resembled the Duchess so much it was as if she had returned from the dead.

After her arrival, the Duke smiled warmly again, as if his madness had never existed. He returned to being the wise leader they had once known. Her presence was a blessing and a gift to the household.

Because of that, Rach was prepared to lay down his life to protect her from any threat.

...And more than anything, there was another reason he needed to protect her.

[It’s fine. He's more trustworthy than I expected. He won’t be a danger to her.]

"......."

[You still don’t seem convinced.]

“…She could be the daughter of the Duchess, Your Grace.”

[You're crossing a line.]

“…Forgive me.”

But it was something that had to be said.

Yes, Irene Windler could very well be the Duke’s...

There was a high possibility that she was Blake’s ‘biological daughter.’ It was a suspicion that the Duke himself strongly held, and while no one in the household openly spoke about it, it was a widely known secret.

Just like the royal family of Pendraig had sensed it, Galahad also knew.

But the reason they hadn't made this public was...

[Nothing is certain yet. So, stay your hand.]

"......."

[Hmph, you're even more insolent than that man.]n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

“…Your Grace is far too strict.”

[Yes, I am ‘Your Grace.’ Therefore, I must remain calm, even if the child might be my own, I can't embrace her.]

“…Hmm!”

The Duke's words were logical. While there was a possibility that Irene was his child, there was no solid proof of it.

Sure, she resembled the Duchess, but what evidence was there that she was truly his daughter? What if she simply looked like her?

...Blake wasn’t confident he could deal with the aftermath, politically or emotionally, if he were wrong.

So, he kept everything hidden and only accepted her as his foster daughter. He needed time to restore the deteriorating Galahad estate after being consumed by madness. Looking into her background would have to wait.

[That’s why I need him. I don’t know what his connection to Isis is, but surely my nephew gave him orders to keep an eye on Irene. He’s a fitting choice.]

Even when investigating, the Duke was surprised. He didn’t expect such talent to be in the knight order.

The White Lion had been in decline since Sir Baltar, but this man was a stroke of luck for the royal family.

And also a stroke of luck for Galahad.

[The fact that he’s watching over her means that he will also ensure her safety. I can trust him with that.]

Blake had no qualms about his nephew, Isis, having his foster daughter monitored. After all, he would have done the same, perhaps even more stringently.

That child was still ‘soft.’

“…He’s weaker than me. You should have sent me instead.”

But Rach was still not convinced, his dissatisfaction obvious. Seeing his pupil so frustrated, the Duke chuckled.

[You’re on the verge of collapsing, yet you’ve still got a big mouth.]

“I-I’m not going to collapse.”

[Oh, really.]

The Duke and the knights shook their heads, unable to suppress their smiles.

Rach du Durang.

The rising star of Galahad, a young knight destined to become the next Aura master, was trembling so much his arms and legs looked like they would snap at any moment.

He stood with all the pride he could muster, but his insides were surely in tatters.

[Just drink the potion already, you fool.]

“I-I’m fine.”

[You're bleeding from the mouth, you idiot.]

“…Hnng.”

Drip.

Rach’s face had turned as pale as a ghost, and seeing him like that, the Duke clicked his tongue.

What a foolish man.

[This is why knights are like this.]

Both that fool and this one.

None of them acted their age.

Well.

[Still better than those ‘sneaky rats.’]

A cold chill passed over Blake's eyes. It wasn't directed at his knights.

No, it was aimed at...

[Does the Grand Duke’s family raise rats now?]

His gaze turned icy as he directed his attention toward the ‘rats’ who thought they were hiding in the shadows nearby.

And those ‘rats’ were…

“The Duke speaks harshly. Don’t you think so, Jack?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“…Sometimes, you're a strange one, you know that?”

“I’m aware.”

The young lion of the Grand Duke’s family, with his striking black hair, nodded indifferently, while his loyal servant shook his head, muttering, "What’s he going on about now?"

As much as he respected his lord, sometimes he just couldn’t understand him.

Meanwhile, when Ihan returned to the house, fortunately, the two women inside seemed blissfully unaware of the commotion outside.

He had told them earlier he would be chopping wood, so even if they heard something loud outside, they would have assumed it was just that. The distance also helped muffle any voices, and thanks to the potion, he appeared perfectly uninjured.

It was a stroke of luck.

At least he didn’t have to show them the embarrassing state he had been in earlier.

However, when Ihan entered the house, he was taken aback by what the two women were doing. The woman in question was startled too.

“Oh, you’re back.”

She looked just as flustered as he was, like a child caught doing something mischievous.

"...Irene, what are you doing?"

“Well, uh… I was talking with the maid and somehow…”

“…You somehow ended up wearing a dress? And where did that dress come from, anyway?”

“Hehe, it’s mine! What do you think, Sir? Isn’t it beautiful?”

“…Yes, it’s quite extravagant.”

“Hehe, I don’t wear it often because it’s too fancy.”

“…So, you put it on her?”

“I thought it would look good on Miss Irene!”

"!!?"

They were having a fashion show.

After witnessing the serious events outside, seeing this scene made Ihan almost forget the resolve he had just made. He couldn’t help but observe Irene closely, and indeed...

‘She’s pretty.’

She looked fresh and innocent, befitting her age. Her golden hair and blue eyes emitted an aura of mysterious beauty.

The dress was overly fancy, but Irene Windler had the grace to pull it off.

However, if someone were to ask if her appearance was heart-stoppingly beautiful, the answer would be...

‘I guess this is how it would feel to have a little sister.’

Unfortunately for Irene, Ihan was at the age where his romantic instincts had long since dulled. He wasn’t the type to be attracted to someone so much younger.

It was more like the admiration an uncle might feel watching a hardworking young idol.

That was about the extent of it.

Not realizing this, Irene felt embarrassed by Ihan's gaze, bowing her head deeply.

It seemed a misunderstanding was brewing.

Just then…

“Miss, show him what you’ve been practicing! You’ve worked so hard on it.”

“Oh, well, I don’t know…”

“Come on, when else are you going to do it?”

“…Still.”

“…Practice?” Ihan asked.

What were they talking about?

The next moment, the flustered girl lifted the hem of her dress slightly, bent her knees, and gave a small nod.

…What was that?

“Sir, that’s a curtsey. It’s the way nobles greet each other. Isn’t it beautiful?”

“…Beautiful?”

To Ihan, it looked more like a creaky doll attempting a bow.

“I’m still not used to it,” Irene explained.

Having only recently become a noble, Irene wasn’t quite familiar with the manners of the upper class.

Still, Ihan couldn’t understand why she would skip meals to practice such a thing.

Noble customs were so…

“Hehe, she’s just not used to it yet. Once she gets the hang of it, it’ll be as smooth and graceful as this.”

With that, the maid, Leyra, demonstrated her own curtsey, slightly lifting her skirt just enough to show a glimpse of her ankle, bending her knees, and nodding her head.

And that movement was…

"……."

Flawless, and graceful.

The fluidity and cleanliness of the motion left Ihan speechless.

“…Wow.”

For the first time, Ihan felt his frustrations from earlier completely melt away.

At that moment...

‘…Beautiful.’

This thought of beauty was distinctly different from what he felt for Irene earlier.

For the first time, Ihan came to realize that noble customs weren’t just useless formalities.

“…I guess skipping meals to practice wasn’t such a waste after all.”

That he could say something like this was quite a surprise to him.

For the first time, he recognized that the seemingly simple-minded maid was a true lady, akin to a fully blossomed rose.

And as for the humiliated protagonist of this scene...

[...Irene, from now on, let’s practice the curtsey a lot, alright?]

‘...Okay.’

With tears of humiliation, she swallowed her pride and promised herself a rematch.