The moment the phrase
“like a flower-fawn”
was spoken, Ella swiftly turned to glance behind where Kai stood.
Startled by the sudden attention, Kai reflexively clutched his chest.
Ella widened her eyes and looked back at Eric.
“I
knew
it! I knew it!”
“…It’s not like that…”
Eric brought a hand to his forehead. But Ella was already fully committed to teasing him.
“Still, you can’t have my attendant. He’s one of my precious ones.”
“…No, that’s not…”
Eric started to object, trying to rein in Ella’s overactive imagination—but then paused when he noticed Kai’s cheeks, tinged with pink.
What’s with that expression…?
“Then who
is
this flower-fawn of a man? Imelin’s other lover?”
What, two or three of them maybe?
Eric frowned, remembering how brazenly Imelin had lied before.
“That woman doesn’t have lovers.”
“But the real problem is that
you
can’t be one either. Right?”
Eric’s expression twisted. He shook his head.
“That’s not true.”
“Come now. If there’s anything this marriage has gained me, it wasn’t stopping the Duke from seizing the Merfolk’s Tomb—it was getting to see
that
expression on your face.”
Ella winked mischievously. Eric looked even more sour.
“Still… if Imelin’s type really is someone soft and deer-like, you’re not even close. Sure, someone said you
smiled
like a flower-fawn, but let’s be honest. Don’t you look more like a
jaguar
that devours flower-fawns?”
Ella folded her arms and looked pensive.
Jaguar…
Eric recalled how Imelin would shrink in fear around tall, broad-shouldered men.
And in that moment,
he
felt the same shrinking fear—not compassion, but something else entirely.
…Fear?
He reflexively touched his own sturdy chest. No matter how he looked at it, he couldn’t deny it—he
did
look more like a beast that devoured flower-fawns than a flower-fawn himself.
Though he wasn’t overly bulky, and his physique leaned more toward agile strength, when he stood next to Imelin, his frame was easily double hers.
“Still, don’t make such a tragic face. There
is
a way, you know.”
“…I’m not making a tragic face.”
Eric struggled to keep up as Ella kept pressing the offensive.
“See, being a flower-fawn isn’t about your outer form. It comes from the
heart
. There’s a kind of delicate softness that flows from within. And
you
have it.”
While Eric was chewing on those words, Ella pulled out an invitation from within her sleeve and tossed it toward him.
“It’s for the birthday banquet next week. Come soothe Lady Margaret Beaufort a bit. You know how she’s absolutely
mad
about your face.”
Mad
. A strong word… but not exactly wrong.
Eric grimaced, recalling how Margaret had once taken his picture at a high-end spirit pavilion.
“And while you’re at it, dance with Imelin too. If you want to see what’s in her heart, sometimes you have to touch what’s under the robe first. A dance is the perfect excuse.”
Eric recoiled and made a sacred hand seal, shaking his head at her lewd remark. Ella only chuckled and added—
“Either way, the higher your spiritual standing in the social realm, the more favor it brings to me too. So make it work, somehow.”
Eric stopped tracing spiritual symbols in the air and returned to his usual composed demeanor.
Standing in the social realm…
That, for Eric, was perhaps the most difficult trial of all. And he knew it was the same for Imelin.
He glanced toward the princess with a weary expression. But she, of all people—known in the realm for her scandalous antics—had never once been called a “chaste maiden” by polite society.
Judging by her face, she was well aware of that fact—and clearly wouldn’t be of any help.
In the end… the only one left is… the steward, huh?
Eric tucked the invitation into his inner robe.
As he stood to leave, Ella added with a tone of false casualness, as if she’d just remembered:
“Oh, right. There’s been no exchange between the Cullen Sect and the Duke’s Clan. I checked last night.”
“How did you…”
Ella glanced across the training ground, where several knights were cultivating shirtless, and smirked.
“My own way.”
Eric didn’t ask what “her way” entailed. With a respectful bow, he took his leave.
✵
✵
✵
I carefully tucked the letter for Lady Margaret Beaufort into my robe and boarded the carriage bearing the sigil of the Duke’s Clan.
A carriage with the Duke’s insignia.
The feeling was… strange.
Only those acknowledged as part of the clan were permitted to ride in such a carriage.
So this meant that I, too, was now being recognized as a disciple of the Orléans Clan.
“Um, are you sure I shouldn’t come with you…?”
Yeah, right.
I waved dismissively at the steward, who was visibly fidgeting and anxious.
If they truly acknowledge me as part of the clan, then just let me go alone with some trust!
The steward had fussed endlessly about what robe I should wear, what gloves to pair it with, what shoes to put on… and now, he was asking for the tenth time whether he shouldn’t accompany me.
“That’s enough! Stop it already! I’ll be fine on my own. It’s not like Lady Margaret Beaufort is some heavenly beast and I’m a mortal cultivator! We’re both human—we’ll speak in human language, so what’s the issue, hmm?”
Nobles don’t communicate with antennae, for heaven’s sake!
Suppressing the rising fire of class resentment within me, I grabbed Lily’s hand and stepped into the carriage.
The steward, waving frantically like a lost puppy, shouted:
“Make sure you secure that invitation—absolutely!!”
Lily was joining me on this trip. As both an escort and an attendant, supposedly.
Yeah, right. Smells a lot like surveillance to me…
I wasn’t thrilled about Lily tagging along, but I held it in. After slamming the carriage door shut, I blew the steward a kiss through the window.
“Well then, farewell! I’ll be back soon, so prepare a grand feast!”
The steward stood there watching the carriage disappear into the distance, his eyes full of mournful loyalty.
“Ugh! That insufferable steward!”
As I stomped my foot and shivered from the lingering stress, Lily, seated across from me, scrunched her face.
“Even so, you usually listen to him. Just now, you even acted for his sake…”
She looked somewhat touched, her expression sincere.
Hmph. For
his
sake? That was all for
me
, thank you very much.
I leaned in close—really close—to Lily’s face. She flinched and leaned away, startled.
“W-what are you doing…?”
Grinning slyly, I whispered:
“This is all part of training. Conditioning. You’ve got to be sweet at first to get what you want later.”
As I murmured the words, Lily’s expression froze. Her eyes sharpened, wary.
“There’s no need to train me. I won’t be conditioned… and I won’t allow myself to be, either.”
“Funny. People who say that usually end up the most obedient.”
“…Are you implying that the young lord is part of the people you're ‘training’?”
At Lily’s sudden question, I tilted my head.
The young lord? Is
he
one of them…?
Nah. No way. That’s not how it is.
“Besides, he’s the one who
doesn’t
get trained, remember?”
“And yet, around you, he’s completely powerless, isn’t he? In fact…”
Lily fixed her eyes on me, her expression blank and unreadable.
“I actually suggested we resolve everything quickly by implicating Lady Helena for the murder of the Viscount of Violrod.”
“…Wow. Did you seriously just say that in front of me?” I looked at Lily in astonishment. But her face remained completely unchanged.
Wow… she's even more brazen than me?
“But it was the young lord who placed trust in Lady Imelin. I was the one who doubted her. As you surely know, Lady Imelin is rather…”
“…not the most trustworthy person in the realm.”
“Exactly. So…”
“So?”
“…if you're trying to tame the former Commander, please stop.”
Commander…
It’s been over two moons since Eric stepped down as head of the Knight Division, yet they still call him that…
A chuckle slipped from my lips.
Now that I think about it… why did Eric grant my request? It’s strange.
I mean, I’m just a commoner when you trace my bloodline, nothing noble about me—and he’s a young master who might one day be the fiancé of a princess riding in a palanquin like this.
So why did he help me?
Why did that man, so upright and righteous, go so far to assist me?
Could it be… that he’s just a well-fed predator, playing with his prey instead of devouring it?
The important thing is… I can’t lean on that man’s goodwill forever.
I sighed and opened the carriage window.
The capital’s scenery looked entirely different when viewed from the inside of a Duke's ornate spirit-tethered carriage.
So this… this is the taste of wealth and power…
I leaned against the window frame, resting my chin in my palm, and muttered,
“Sigh… Once this farce of a marriage ends, how will I go back to being a broke cultivator again…”
When all this illusion shatters, I’ll be back to scraping by with Mother and Phillip—scamming the gullible, stealing when we have to, living however we can.
Meanwhile, Young Master Eric will continue living in a fairy-tale-like realm, riding these spirit-glazed carriages and cultivating with a heart so kind it might as well have been sculpted from holy light.
But now… even that seems uncertain.
Because I told Mother nonsense.
Even if I said it to protect our family, I still said it.
That I… didn’t want to live like her.
…Will she forgive me?
I let out another sigh.
Feels like I’ve become a stray cat with no home to return to…
✵
✵
✵
But those thoughts didn’t last long.
Because in front of Lady Margaret Beaufort’s manor, I saw a face I knew all too well.
“…Imelin?”
That woman—was Helena.
My mother.
With her lustrous red hair pinned up elegantly, clad in a modest high-collared dress, she tilted her head at me with a serene smile.
She didn’t look surprised.
She didn’t look angry.
As always… she was beautiful.
Like she drank some eternal youth elixir. No matter how many times I looked, she didn’t feel like my mother—more like an older sister.
…But that’s not the issue here.
As soon as I saw her, my last meeting with her flashed through my mind—those cruel words I threw in her face. I instinctively stepped back.
But Helena approached me with the same calm demeanor.
“You look like you’ve just come face-to-face with a demonic boar in the mountains. What, did the boar wear rouge and pearls?”
“…What are you doing here, Mother?”
I asked with disbelief, stunned by how casual she sounded. But Mother replied as if she’d always expected we’d cross paths in the capital again.
I don’t want to live like you…
The words I said to her before we parted.
I killed your father…
The lie she told me.
I couldn’t bring myself to look directly into her eyes.
To feel like the person I once trusted most was now the furthest from me…
It’s unbearable.
I felt bitterness rising in the back of my throat.
Chapter 60