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Chapter 9
Kylian let out a faint chuckle as Rune’s face suddenly came to mind.
To bump into him without even realizing he was right in front of her—her old habit of spacing out in thought hadn’t changed a bit.
“I suppose I’m no different, either.”
Messing up her hair had merely been an old habit of his. He hadn’t expected her to push him away so abruptly. When he recalled the sharp strength of her hand, a faint ache spread across his chest.
It was a strange sensation—he frowned slightly and tilted his head before quickly brushing it aside.
“What on earth were you doing just now?”
Her dazed face, framed by tousled hair, came to mind, and Kylian couldn’t help but laugh again.
Seeing that inexplicable smile, Ethan broke out in a cold sweat as he glanced at Marquis Este.
“…This is bad.”
The Marquis was still waiting for an answer to the question he had asked earlier.
“My lord. My—lord.”
Kylian, however, seemed so lost in thought that he didn’t even hear Ethan’s desperate whispers.
Unable to bear it any longer, Ethan nudged his elbow under the table. Kylian brushed his lips with a faint smile and finally turned his gaze back, his expression betraying that he had indeed been completely distracted.
Clearing his throat with an awkward cough, Ethan quickly whispered under his breath.
“The Marquis was asking about Duke Carlo’s condition.”
As it happened, a carrier pigeon had just arrived from the Herace Duchy earlier that day.
Kylian nodded and casually lifted his wine glass, raising it toward the Marquis in a toast.
“Thanks to your concern, my father is said to be recovering. I won’t forget your kindness.”
“You give me too much credit. It was all thanks to you, Lord Kylian, for procuring the antidote. I am relieved to hear Duke Carlo is improving.”
“I appreciate it. You must have suffered as well, worrying over your own child’s health.”
Kylian sipped his wine, studying the Marquis carefully.
“He looks healthier than I expected.”
“…Thank you.”
The Marquis’s expression stiffened ever so slightly.
Noticing the subtle shift, Kylian idly swirled his wine and continued, his tone casual.
“I should be the one expressing gratitude. It was generous enough of you to let me pass through Este lands. I never expected to be invited inside your castle itself.”
The deep red wine slid slowly down the glass walls.
“I’d heard that since a year ago, no outsiders have been allowed into your keep.”
Kylian recalled his visit to Este territory last winter. At the time, the Marquis had locked all the gates, forbidding any entry from outsiders.
He had always been a reclusive man, but back then, his paranoia had gone so far that he even refused Kylian’s visit.
“I can only apologize for what happened then. I ask for your understanding.”
“Don’t mistake me. I didn’t bring it up to demand an apology now.”
Even Kylian couldn’t interfere with how a lord governed his own domain.
He had no intention of condemning him—only that, in hindsight, it was difficult to fully understand.
The only explanation he could think of was that around that same time, Runeadeluz Este, the Marquis’s heir, had been stricken with a fever.
Rumors of a frail heir would certainly tarnish the family’s prestige.
But was that really the only reason?
“If he cared so much for the family’s honor, he wouldn’t have buried himself in such a remote place to begin with.”
Moreover, if he truly wished to hide his heir’s sickness, he would have already shown the world a recovered Rune.
The Rune he saw again now might have lost his memories, but he seemed fully recovered from the fever.
“So what exactly is he trying to hide?”
Just as the rumors from the desert had suggested, the Marquis seemed to have no intention of correcting the gossip that his child was still ill.
Kylian fixed his gaze on the Marquis, who avoided his eyes, and spoke.
“That child doesn’t seem to have all his memories intact.”
“…That’s a lingering effect from the fever.”
Feigning calm, the Marquis cut his meat as he changed the subject.
“And what of the Academy? I heard Headmaster Gregory has offered you the position of Honorary Owner.”
The deliberate shift in topic made Kylian narrow his eyes slightly.
So… he has no intention of talking about Rune. Very well, I’ll play along for now.
He gave a casual shrug and sighed, as if the matter were a nuisance.
“…Nothing’s been decided yet, but it’s troubling. The headmaster keeps pestering me about it.”
Indeed, Gregory had been relentless, sending telegrams all the way to the western desert. Long letters disguised as pleasantries, whose true intent was always the same: When will you return?
“You know how persistent he can be.”
“I imagine he never expected your expedition to last this long.”
The Marquis could sympathize with Kylian’s sighs—he himself had once refused Gregory’s request.
Gregory, with his long white brows nearly covering his eyes, had served at the Academy for decades. His deep attachment to Lepium Academy was plain.
Tilting his head wearily, Kylian muttered,
“If not for my father, I’d have left the Academy long ago.”
Even after graduation, Kylian had remained affiliated with the Academy—purely because Duke Carlo, like Gregory, cherished Lepium deeply.
“The headmaster relies on you for much.”
“There are plenty who rely on me. Frankly, I’d prefer to be rid of the burden.”
Gregory, nodding gravely when Kylian once mentioned leaving for Lemoir, had then produced a contract, already prepared in full detail.
“I respect your wishes. But if you return, I hope you’ll at least take on the position at the Officer’s School. As an active commander, you’d be a fine guide for the cadets. Hahaha.”
Remembering Gregory’s genial smile, Kylian clicked his tongue. He had meant to use the expedition as an excuse to sever ties completely.
“The sly old fox. He must have foreseen everything.”
“I think, in truth, he just wanted you to remain connected to the Academy, one way or another. You could refuse, of course. With Duke Carlo’s seat still vacant, the headmaster would surely understand.”
“True enough.”
If Kylian refused, Gregory would have no choice but to accept—just as he had when the Marquis of Este had once left Lepium.
But this year, the Academy was not entirely the same nuisance as before.
Resting his chin on his hand, Kylian leaned forward.
“I suppose I’ll only see Rune at the entrance ceremony, then.”
This time, the Marquis did not hide the darkness on his face. He sighed deeply, meeting Kylian’s gaze squarely.
“…I have no intention of sending that child to the Academy.”
“…Are you serious?”
The Marquis’s silence, stubborn and unyielding, was answer enough.
“Hah. So the boy continued training with the sword in secret after all.”
The Marquis had never permitted his child to wield a sword. He had always been harsh yet overprotective toward Rune.
Once, he had been the Empire’s Swordmaster—treasured by Emperor Leonard himself. And yet, forsaking all glory, he had secluded himself in this remote land.
His choices were riddled with contradictions.
“Come to think of it… wasn’t it right here?”
Kylian refilled the Marquis’s empty glass.
Long ago, on his first visit to Este Castle, it was Duke Carlo who had sat in the very chair Kylian now occupied.
“Edmund Este. Knights do not serve those they must protect, but those they wish to follow. What do you hope Rune will mean to the Light Knights?”
The wine filled the glass, gleaming red. Late at night, droplets formed on the rim, the air still thick with the heat of the day.
“I remember the day my father first urged me to take up the sword.”
The Marquis’s lips grew dry as he gripped the slender stem of his glass.
Kylian’s eyes now gleamed with the same light Duke Carlo once had.
The Este Castle, usually so quiet, bustled late into the night with the commotion of unexpected guests.
“They certainly look rougher than our knights, don’t they?”
“Maybe so… but that’s part of their charm. The Black Knights who returned from the desolate desert!”
“Right? And to think we actually got to see Lord Kylian in person. Ah… he’s far too handsome!”
Rune, returning to her room, froze when she overheard the shrill voices down the corridor.
Ahead, a group of maids carried large baskets of ingredients to the kitchens, preparing food for the knights.
Feeding warriors brimming with energy was no easy task, but the maids seemed almost cheerful as they chatted excitedly.
After all, it wasn’t just any visitor—it was the Dark Knights of House Herace, famed throughout the Empire, rivaling even the Light Knights in renown.
“You should have seen them earlier, bathing at the barracks well. Our knights would never dream of something so shameless!”
“Oh, I saw! Sun-browned skin, broad arms…”
“Lord Kylian must have an even more impressive body. I can just tell.”
Clasping her hands dreamily, one maid painted the image, making the others burst into giggles.
“W-what on earth are they talking about?!”
Leaning against the corner wall, Rune clutched her burning cheeks. Images of Kylian’s back from earlier that day flashed across her mind.
The maidens’ teasing laughter mingled with a heat that made her chest ache.
The entire castle had been in a frenzy ever since their arrival—everyone chattering endlessly about the Dark Knights.
“And to say such shameless things so openly…”
Rune shook her flushed face and hurried on to her room.
When she finally stepped inside, Marlene—her nurse—looked up from tidying the bed, her face brightening with relief.
“Ah, there you are at last!”
“Don’t even ask. Today felt unbearably long.”
After a full day of hearing his name, Rune wished she could wash her ears clean.
But, regrettably…
Her nurse Marlene was no less excited than the maids.
“So? Did you meet Lord Kylian?”
