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Chapter 21
“Welcome, Your Highness.”
Knight Perry Collins greeted her respectfully at the manor’s main gate.
Anastasia looked back at the empty garden and gave a bitter smile.
Across the garden, Enoch and Trish were walking together, chatting quietly.
But no one was there to see her off.
Only the fact that none of this tragedy was her fault offered any comfort to Anastasia’s soul.
“Collins, how long until we arrive if we leave now?”
“Before the sun sets in the evening, we should arrive.”
“Good.”
Sir Perry Collins offered his hand to assist her into the carriage, but Anastasia glanced at Artorius behind her instead.
Without hesitation, he lifted her in his arms and placed her onto the carriage step.
“Thank you, Artorius.”
“Don’t mention it.”
A lady could always ask something of her knight.
“You and your knight seem very close, Your Highness,” Collins remarked, as if intrigued.
To him, it was an unusual sight.
Knights from Saden rarely formed close bonds with the ladies they served.
Especially young knights.
They often still carried the rough manners and speech of the northern forests beyond Saden.
But this knight was different.
“We are… quite close, I suppose.”
“I see. Remarkable.”
Collins looked at Artorius with interest.
Judging by his voice, Artorius was likely in his late twenties, give or take a few years.
Then how could someone who had only crossed the forest a few years ago be so fluent in the kingdom’s etiquette and language?
Collins closed the carriage door and climbed onto the driver’s seat.
“Sir Artorius, was it?”
he asked casually, testing him.
“That is correct.”
“I’ve heard that Saden knights use clan names instead of surnames. Which clan do you belong to?”
Artorius’s blue eyes glanced at Collins.
“I do not belong to any clan.”
“What…?”
Among the Saden people, clan names and honor were everything.
So Collins could not understand the answer.
“I am merely the knight of the Second Princess of Etrange. Do not concern yourself with anything else, messenger.”
“…Hah.”
Collins shook his head.
Ridiculous. A knight from Saden, who had not even been here a week, already showing such loyalty?
Though, in truth, it was also because Artorius was not actually a Saden knight—but that was not something Collins needed to know.
Behind the royal carriage, Enoch and Trish sat at the driver’s seat of a black carriage belonging to the ducal house, loaded with Anastasia’s belongings.
“Sir Collins, shall we depart now?”
A lonely garden with no one to see her off.
Artorius did not want Anastasia staying in such a place any longer.
He had teased her earlier, asking whether she intended to “swallow the ducal house,” but…
There was no need to remain in this wretched place in order to destroy it.
“The carriage behind us seems ready as well.”
Collins replied calmly, tightening the reins.
“Indeed. I will run between the two carriages.”
“What speed should we maintain?”
Even for Saden knights, it was impossible to keep pace with a horse indefinitely.
At best, they could match speed momentarily.
Humans used horses for long-distance travel because of their endurance.
It was unthinkable for giants like the Saden people to match that stamina.
“Do as you please.”
“…What did you say?”
Collins looked up at Artorius in confusion, then scoffed.
This was exactly the kind of boast young Saden knights made after just crossing the forest.
“Very well. I won’t hold back.”
Soon, Enoch signaled from the rear carriage that they were ready.
Collins pulled hard on the reins, and the four horses of the royal carriage neighed loudly as they kicked off the ground.
Anastasia watched through the window as they set off.
The moment she finally left that cursed manor.
Just as noble ladies of the royal court competed with dresses and grace, knights competed with skill.
And the foundation of a knight was, of course, stamina and strength.
“Already arrived?”
Sir Perry Collins was dumbfounded.
There were several Saden knights in the royal court, but none of them could run alongside a horse for hours so effortlessly.
“Truly impressive…”
Artorius, without even catching his breath once, calmly opened the carriage door for Anastasia.
“Was it not tiring, Artorius?”
“Not at all.”
“Good. Then help me down.”
As usual, Artorius wrapped his large hand around Anastasia’s waist and lifted her down.
At that moment—
“Anastasia, you’re here?”
Flowing golden hair, emerald-green eyes shining like gemstones.
It was Prince Louis Yanpots I.
He had personally come to the palace gate to greet her.
Anastasia glanced at him, then lifted her pale yellow skirt and bowed properly.
“It has been a while, Your Highness.”
Louis froze in place.
His expression went blank, as if he didn’t know how to react.
Until Anastasia let out a faint laugh.
“…Were you teasing me?”
“I’ve been locked in a tower too long. Let’s just say I forgot my etiquette.”
“That was too perfect for that to be true.”
Louis’s narrowed eyes still held warmth.
Someone almost painfully beautiful. That was how Anastasia defined him.
He had been cute even as a boy.
“Oh, this is my knight, Artorius.”
Anastasia casually took Artorius’s large hand and pulled him forward.
Their blue and green eyes met.
“…Seems you’ve already become quite close with your knight, Anastasia.”
Anastasia ignored the bitterness at the corner of Louis’s lips.
“Yes. That’s right.”
“…I see.”
Louis bit his lower lip, but Anastasia turned away first.
Pretending not to notice.
“Artorius, could you take my luggage to my room first?”
“As you wish.”
Artorius obeyed without complaint.
He simply instructed Enoch and Trish and halted the black carriage behind them.
But Louis Yanpots was grinding his teeth.
“…Something’s strange.”
“What is?”
Anastasia asked casually.
“I don’t understand why you speak formally to your knight, while your knight speaks informally to you.”
His green eyes were serious.
But Anastasia was not.
“Do I really need to explain that to you, Louis?”
Whether or not he was truly infatuated with her in this life, in the previous one he had been nothing more than a stranger.
A faint, distant connection from childhood—nothing more.
‘Maybe Sir Hothengel was right.’
Warmth and coldness, softness and strength—it was difficult to have both.
In her past life, Anastasia had been neither cold nor strong.
Just small, fragile, and gentle-hearted.
Perhaps it was understandable that no one had loved that version of her…
But now, any kindness felt like nothing more than manipulation.
“…That’s not it.”
“Let’s call it a secret between me and Artorius. You wouldn’t pry into a lady’s secret, would you?”
Anastasia narrowed her eyes.
“Of course not…”
“Good.”
She intended to use people’s emotions as tools. Just as everyone in her previous life had used hers.
She had learned that through a miserable death.
Human relationships were nothing more than transactions of emotion.
Emotions instead of gold.
“By the way, why did you call me here so soon?”
At her question, Louis stiffened.
“…Huh?”
“You said it was the duty of the court mage, but it’s not like you urgently need one.”
“That is…”
“You said you would invite me to a ball, and I would come. Did you think so little of me?”
“That’s not it…”
Louis was now visibly stepping backward as Anastasia advanced step by step.
A striking sight.
“Then… did you miss me that much?”
That final line was the finishing blow.
Like a wedge driven into stone softened by water.
Louis’s already unstable expression finally cracked into flustered confusion.
“…Anastasia?”
“Why? Was I wrong?”
If she asked like that, he couldn’t possibly say no. Because part of him did want to see her.
Louis exhaled deeply and nodded.
“…Yes.”
Was she always this mischievous?
In that moment, he realized something.
He knew nothing about Anastasia.
Only a childhood memory.
And the dazzling, confident figure he had seen at the ball.
“Then where is my room?”
“This way…”
Louis hesitated, then took her hand to lead her.
But it did not go as he intended.
Anastasia pulled her hand away.
Looking at his startled expression, she whispered softly,
“Louis.”
His fingers grasped at empty air.
“We’re not that close yet, are we?”
