That noble resolve from last night?
It shattered completely the next morning under the steward’s nagging.
“You must begin your cultivation of the dance arts, my ladyyy~!”
Ugh! Practice! Study! Instruction!
Those are the words I detest the most!
Despite me returning with
three
formal invitations just yesterday, the steward—rather than respecting me as a rising noble lady of social standing and letting me rest—was now ablaze with fervor, declaring it time to uphold the virtues of high society through relentless training.
As I recoiled in horror, Eric, seated across from me at the breakfast table, silently looked my way.
His gaze practically said:
“Don’t you have a way out of this?”
Grinding my teeth, I shot him a glare.
There was only one method to escape this fate.
Fighting the twitch in my lip, I forced the most radiant smile I could muster and looked toward the steward.
“Steward. I have plans to go see a shadowplay with my darling today. So please, I beg you—let me go, just this once!”
The steward blinked and turned to Eric.
“A film…? But young master, you don’t normally indulge in such—”
Eric nodded without hesitation.
“I invited her out on a date.”
A date.
“Let’s hang out,”
he had said.
Now I realized… so that
was
his way of asking me out?
Ugh, seriously—
This whole thing is just… weird!
“Well, if that’s the case… But you are both aware, yes? The Duke is returning tomorrow. You’ll need to be back early today.”
…Wait, what?
The steward clicked his tongue as if resigned. I quickly turned to Eric in alarm—but he simply nodded, unfazed.
✵
✵
✵
“You knew the Duke was coming back?”
I asked as we finally stepped into the heart of the capital, our boots tapping against the stone streets.
Eric had insisted we disembark a block away from the grand emporium and walk the rest of the way, saying the area near the theater would be too crowded.
“…A message arrived yesterday. His Grace will likely be attending the princess’s birthday banquet. Which means I’ll be dealing with him starting tomorrow.”
“So, he’ll be out for blood again…”
I sighed gloomily. No wonder Eric had wanted to “hang out.”
So this was his way of fattening up his warhorse before battle begins tomorrow, huh?
Curse it all.
Then Eric suddenly took my hand—and tucked it securely under his arm.
“Let’s just have fun today. Didn’t I say that already?”
He grinned brightly, like a child about to sneak out of martial training.
What a strange man.
When still, he’s like a jaguar—
But when he smiles, he’s like a foolish little pup.
He’s throwing off my spiritual balance.
I took a deep breath in, then out.
Again, in… and out.
Then I placed my hands on my hips and looked up at Eric.
“…?”
“Then shall we feast… like cultivators gone wild?”
“What feast? I said let’s
play
.”
“Playing
is
eating. You didn’t know that?”
From my inner robe, I pulled out a handful of copper coins and whistled.
At that signal, children scattered throughout the busy streets turned toward me—street urchins, all of them.
A boy selling sweet pastries.
A girl hawking fresh bread.
A boy with a tray of rock sugar.
I gave them all a dazzling smile.
“Gather ‘round! I’m buying
everything
today!”
Eric, watching my smug expression, gave a quiet laugh.
While I was busy buying up all kinds of food from the street vendor disciples, Eric had only picked up a single apple. Even after wiping it on his robe several times, he still looked at it with distrust, then glanced over at me.
I was already happily munching away, cream smeared all over my mouth.
“What’s wrong? Don’t tell me you're about to say something like, ‘Cultivators don’t eat street food’?”
“That’s exactly what I was going to say.”
Eric frowned at the young vendor disciples swarming around me, hands outstretched for coin. Towering over them like a celestial beast among mortal children, he looked absurdly out of place.
He clearly wasn’t used to dealing with juniors—or children, in this case. Every time one of them brushed against him, he recoiled like a porcelain doll had nearly shattered at his feet.
And then he’d mutter, “Be careful. You'll trip and fall.”
Really? You look like the one who's about to collapse...
I reached out and grabbed Eric’s arm as he stumbled between the children. He exhaled heavily, briefly leaning into me like a great mountain taking shelter under a pine tree.
“…We should leave this market street quickly.”
“Mmm, this cream is so good. Pass me a strawberry one too.”
“Are you even listening to me?”
“Actually, give me a melon one as well.”
Eric shook his head in disbelief as he watched me, arms and even sides packed with food like I was preparing for closed-door cultivation.
“You’re going to eat
all
of that?”
“Of course. I’m a good eater.”
I may have looked a little scrawny now, but that was because I hadn’t been able to eat properly during my formative years. While I didn’t have much love for grains or meat, I had a monstrous appetite for sweets. I could eat several plates of dessert alone.
“You’ll end up tossing half of it, just wait.”
Despite his grumbling, Eric accepted the strawberry and melon creams from a vendor boy and took my hand, guiding me swiftly out of the crowd.
Once we were alone again, he looked at me—my lips still smeared with cream—and asked,
“You eaten street food like this often before?”
“More like the opposite.”
I mumbled through a mouthful of pastry. Eric grimaced and pulled a handkerchief from his sleeve, offering it to me.
What, does he want me to cover my face while eating?
I ignored the cloth and kept talking.
“I used to sell this kind of food. When I was twelve, after I got kicked out and had nowhere to go. Same again when I was cast out of the Viscount Wedgwood household. That time, I was older… so it was more humiliating.”
I bit down into the bread to swallow my words.
“There was this witch I stayed with for a while. If I didn’t bring back my daily quota, she wouldn’t even let me eat dinner.”
‘If you can’t make quota, then pick a pocket or beg—what kind of disciple are you?’
Whenever she barked at me, I’d snap back in frustration.
‘Do you think that’s easy?! I nearly met my quota today anyway! And what do you mean pick pockets—do I look like some thief sect rogue?!’
Then she’d always fix me with that terrifying glare and say,
‘There’s an old saying… the heart of a red-haired maiden has great alchemical value…’
Just remembering her twisted black hair made my skin crawl.
Her underlings used to whisper that she didn’t just sell bizarre potions—she sold
organs
too. Supposedly, once, a customer couldn’t pay for a voice potion, so she took his
leg
instead.
Ugh!
She’s the kind of person you must never cross paths with again…
Thinking about those days made the bread in my hand lose all appeal. I was just staring at it when Eric suddenly furrowed his brows.
“Quota?”
“Yeah. Bring back this much money by the end of the day, or else. If you didn’t make a profit selling things, then you had to make up for it however you could. Pickpocketing. Begging.”
Eric came to a sudden halt.
Chapter 76