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Chapter 21
Each time Caron swung his sword, the knights let out horrific screams.
El instinctively covered her ears with both hands and crouched down.
Caron Feyros. The Ruthless Judge.
There was not the slightest hesitation in his blade, and his gaze was chillingly indifferent.
When he shook the blood from his sword and slid it back into its sheath, the only two left alive in that place were El and Caron.
“El.”
At his gentle call, El slowly lifted her head.
The sight of him extending a blood-soaked hand was enough to bring back the memory of the first day she met him.
An elegant air, savage eyes, striking features—and a hand extended like salvation.
As if bewitched, El took his hand. The stench of blood wafted up, but if it was with him, she could almost call it a fragrance.
“As you can see, I can protect you. And you… can wield me however you wish.”
“……”
It was a sweet whisper.
Under the moonlight, his black eyes gleamed mischievously.
Caron tightened his grip on her hand and pulled her toward him. Having stood still for so long, El stumbled at the sudden force.
A firm arm wrapped around her waist, and languid breath brushed her ear.
“Give yourself to me. Then I will give you the world.”
“Lord Caron.”
“Quite the tempting offer, isn’t it?”
With a soft thud, Caron closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers.
Half leaning into him, El felt her soul being stolen away.
His breath, his warmth, the arm wrapped around her waist, and his low voice—everything was enough to rob her of her senses.
“Lord Caron.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t have to give me anything.”
“……”
Her voice was gentle, yet firm—like nothing could shake it, no matter what trials came.
Even Caron, of all people, revealed a faint flicker of unease.
“I’ve already given myself to you.”
“El.”
“But if I may ask one thing… please don’t let me starve. I’m sensitive about that.”
El added playfully, but both she and Caron knew it wasn’t wholly a joke.
That was enough. If her words were true, then she would go along with his plans willingly.
Caron encircled her fully in his arms and held her tightly.
“…I promise.”
“That’s enough for me.”
El relaxed and quietly leaned against him for a long while. His embrace was warmer than she expected.
“Young Lady.”
Early the next morning, the head maid came to El’s quarters. El greeted her with confusion.
“What brings you here? I’ve gone back to being just El again, you know.”
The head maid silently gazed at her with deep eyes, then slowly bowed.
“Thank you for protecting my children.”
El was bewildered. She had done nothing, so how could she deserve such formal gratitude?
With a complicated look, she watched the maid.
“I did nothing. Lord Caron solved everything. Please, lift your head.”
“Young Lady… opposing knights is not an easy feat.”
“I told you, it wasn’t me.”
“Even so, had you not taken interest in this matter, the children would have…”
The maid choked up and paused. El quietly waited for her to continue.
“Thank you, Young Lady. Because of you, the children smile again.”
“……”
“For visiting them often in the kitchen, for showing them kindness—thank you. I will surely repay this grace.”
El studied the bowed woman.
Perhaps being a noble meant receiving praise even for the smallest actions, simply because of status. That thought crossed her mind.
“Thank you. This is the first time… I’ve ever received such gratitude.”
At those words, the head maid raised her head.
Under the sunlight, El smiled faintly, her face tinged with sorrow—radiating a mournful, almost divine aura, as if she bore the sorrow of an angel who had witnessed too much of humanity.
The maid instinctively bowed again. Where had the master found such a beautiful soul?
If they said she came from the forest, perhaps she truly was a forest spirit—or an angel.
An angel who had descended to thaw the frozen House of Feyros with a single spark of warmth.
After finally sending the maid away, El went down to the dining hall.
As always, Caron was already seated, waiting for her.
Wearing silver-rimmed glasses, he had been reading the paper, but when he noticed El, he handed both glasses and paper to his attendant.
“Sit.”
“Yes. Did you wait long?”
“A little. They’ve prepared veal—you like it, don’t you? Eat.”
El’s hand, just lifting her spoon, froze.
There it was again. She had never once said she liked veal, nor had she ever eaten it with much appetite.
Still, people often misremembered others’ preferences—it was nothing strange. So she brushed it off, picked up her spoon again, and took a big sip of soup.
The savory aroma spread as the smooth broth slid down her throat.
“But while handling the knights’ corpses, I saw something curious.”
“……”
El, about to take another spoonful, quickly set her utensils down. What would he say now? His words were always unpredictable.
“One of them nearly had his manhood crushed.”
“…But that didn’t kill him.”
Wasn’t it his blade that slit the man’s throat anyway? Feeling unfair, El mumbled defensively and fell silent.
Caron studied her with amusement before letting out a light chuckle.
“Why so tense? What’s wrong with hitting a scoundrel?”
“……”
“From what Marquis Terrelair said, and from that corpse… I suspect you might have some talent for combat.”
“Me?”
If she thought about it, El really was more confident in her body than her mind. In the slums, the weak died first.
To have survived into adulthood, she was sturdier than most.
She was also stronger than people assumed—enough to carry loads other children struggled with.
“Do you have lessons in the mornings?”
“No.”
“Then come to the training grounds each morning. I’ll teach you.”
“…Huh? You, Lord Caron, personally?”
He dropped that bomb as if it were nothing and began eating again. El trembled in shock.
Even the knight standing guard nearby stiffened.
For the master of the house to personally teach someone was extraordinary. A family’s sword techniques were not easily shared.
Caron, clearly entertained by her reaction, leaned forward, propping his chin on his hand, and smiled slyly.
“Or what? You’d rather learn from some other bastard?”
His black eyes held only her. El quickly averted her gaze.
“…That’s not it.”
When she looked away, Caron tapped the table with his fingers, drawing her attention back.
Instinctively following the sound, El met his gaze again—only for him to grin.
“Learn from me. Look only at me. You saw my skill yesterday, didn’t you?”
“…All right.”
Who could resist that kind of temptation? Even a pope would falter.
Satisfied with her answer, Caron straightened up and resumed eating.
El finally relaxed and returned to her meal, sticking mostly to the softer dishes.
By the end of breakfast, Caron spoke again.
“Oh, and El. Dresses and accessories will be delivered.”
“Again?”
Not pink, right? She swallowed back the words she really wanted to say.
“Your wardrobe is full of pink, isn’t it?”
“Yes, that’s true.”
He was, of course, the one who had filled it with pink dresses in the first place.
She tried to smile, but her face cracked when he added his next words.
“In a week, there’ll be a small gathering of nobles within Feyros territory.”
“…I see.”
“I plan to attend.”
Of course. He couldn’t stay confined to the mansion forever.
It was time for her to try and hold her place here alone.
She quickly nodded in agreement, though she couldn’t hide the faint emptiness she felt at the thought of their first separation.
“Yes, of course. Please take care on your trip.”
“You mean to let me go alone? How disappointing.”
His playful voice made El’s eyes widen.
“…Wait. Don’t tell me, Lord Caron…”
No, it couldn’t be, right? Please. She prayed silently that her hunch was wrong.
But as always, God didn’t answer her prayers.
“Yes. You and I will go together. Just the two of us. Cozy, isn’t it?”
“I—I’m really not ready yet!”
El squeezed her eyes shut and shouted, her voice trembling so much it sounded like a bleating goat.
“You’re not lacking.”
“Still—”
“And so what if you were? Who would dare slander the baron favored by the duke? Only a fool without a brain would try.”
That was true. After what she witnessed yesterday, she was sure—no ordinary courage could ever defy Caron.
To be continued…
