HSLF 12

Chapter 12

Dorothy blinked at Lyle’s subtle reaction, but he shook his head as if it were nothing.
“Well, that’s a relief.”

Dorothy had been quite anxious about what happened while Lyle was unconscious. He had hit the back of his head harder than she thought, and she had been worried he might get a concussion. But seeing him speak normally and his complexion looking fine was a huge relief. She had almost become a murderer just trying to save a person. With her tension finally easing, Dorothy let out a sigh of relief.

“I’m sorry, Miss Dorothy.”
“Huh? What are you apologizing for?”

Startled by Lyle’s sudden apology, Dorothy asked.
“For causing you to go through all this.”

Dorothy was a little taken aback by the genuine regret on Lyle’s face.
Wait, why are you apologizing? If anyone were to apologize for what happened today, it should have been Dorothy herself. After all, it was her fault that an assassin had been sent from the Marquess of Movent’s house.

“That’s nonsense! Things like this happen in life. And if anyone should apologize, it’s me.”

Was it for the crime of being so popular that a stranger would raise a knife in broad daylight? While Lyle was lying unconscious, Dorothy had mentally prepared her own apology and explanation for getting him involved in all this.

“What do you mean?”
“Well… I guess I’m the cause of today’s unfortunate incident… the… culprit? That’s me.”

Lyle looked at her in confusion. Hesitating, Dorothy opened her mouth carefully.

“Earlier, those masked men… They weren’t ordinary fighters, right?”
“I didn’t expect you to be able to tell,” Lyle replied, a bit surprised.
“They must be assassins sent by the Marquess of Movent.”

“You knew?!” Dorothy exclaimed in shock.

“Yes. They had a crest tattooed on their arms: a wolf carrying a lily of the valley. It’s the Movent family crest. I’ll have to find out later why they did that.”

Lyle remained calm, seemingly trying to think of the reason the Movent family would send assassins, but Dorothy’s chest tightened at the sight. A plan? There was no plan. It was just that some deranged, unfilial brat from the Marquess’ house hated her—Dorothy Sailor—so much that they wanted to drive her out of the capital forever. When Dorothy pieced it all together, everything made sense.

If she had died in the capital, Norobin Movent might have caused a ruckus, claiming he would investigate. So they must have decided to kill her somewhere along a mountain path in the Serin County!

“This kind of thing won’t happen again. So you don’t need to look so worried.”
“No.”
“Huh?”
“It’s all because of me!”

Startled by Dorothy’s choked voice, Lyle tried to soothe her.
“What do you mean?”
“The Marquess of Movent sent the assassins all to kill me.”

Lyle studied Dorothy quietly for a moment, then spoke.

“Miss Dorothy… I thought everyone in the world liked you, but… why would the Movent family hate you enough to want you dead? You probably don’t affect them as much as you think.”

His tone was comforting, pointing out Dorothy’s overinflated self-consciousness. But for some reason, it felt irritating. Dorothy’s eyebrow lifted slightly, then relaxed.

She had a lot on her mind about explaining the incident that caused her to get on the Marquess’ bad side. She had plenty to say about Norobin Movent’s atrocities—enough to speak ten times over—but she had never directly told anyone other than Lops and Lexa. The fearsome Marchioness wouldn’t have liked Dorothy exposing her son’s misdeeds. Anyone hearing such things probably wouldn’t forgive it either.

Then… Dorothy looked at Lyle quietly and asked,
“But, Lyle, you’re not my fan, right?”
“……”
“Right?”

If Lyle had really been her fan, he would at least have listened more when Dorothy tried to talk about the Movent family. Rumor had it, after all, that Dorothy avoided any balls where the Movent couple would appear.

“You’ve never read my book either, right?”

Lyle’s slightly flustered expression made Dorothy laugh cheerfully. She was a little teasing him. Not that she was copying Lexa, but it was fun to tease people.

“I haven’t read Miss Dorothy’s book.”
“I thought so.”

I knew it. I could tell he hadn’t read my book just by looking. He couldn’t even get the name of my novel’s heroine right. A fan? Not even close.

“I do have feelings for you, Miss Dorothy, but that wouldn’t count as being a fan, right?”

Caught off guard, Dorothy looked at him. The flickering light highlighted Lyle’s sharp jawline. Even in this situation, he was undeniably handsome.

“That sounds like you’re saying you’re in love with me.”
“Not much different.”

Lyle answered seriously, but Dorothy smiled and refused.

“Unfortunately, even if you confess that you’re in love with me, I can’t accept it.”
“Why not?” Lyle asked, puzzled.

That’s not the expression of someone being rejected—it’s all too obvious. Under Lops and Lexa’s guidance, Dorothy had become a top-tier actress. She felt sorry for Lyle’s lack of acting skill. With a little effort, that perfect face could achieve perfection.

Regardless of her personal assessment of Lyle’s acting, Dorothy firmly stated her reason for refusal.

“I don’t trust drug users.”
“Drug… users?”

Lyle’s face crumpled.
“Yes. You might look normal on the outside, but you’re a drug user, right?”

Apparently, he hadn’t heard that term before. Dorothy calmly raised her hand, showing her palm, and explained.

“Listen. There are three types of people in this world you shouldn’t deal with.”

She folded her thumb.
“First, con artists.”

Index finger.
“Second, gamblers.”

Middle finger.
“Third, drug users.”

Lexa always said so. Con artists, gamblers, and drug users are devilish bastards—you shouldn’t even talk to them. The smart Dorothy repeated it to make sure she didn’t forget. Of course, she never would.

According to Lexa, con artists were bad, gamblers worse, and drug users the worst.

“The worst are drug users.”

Con artists sell other people’s property, gamblers sell their own, and drug users sell themselves. A reasonable explanation.

“I’m not a drug user,” Lyle said, frowning.

“Lyle, think back to what happened earlier today. When you were poisoned, you already knew how long the effect would last, and what symptoms would appear. That means you’re familiar with dangerous drugs. It’s something you know. Dangerous drugs.”

Dorothy stated her reasoning firmly. Even hedonistic hallucination-seeking drug users were dangerous, but a masochistic poison drug user? Such a perfect face for such a twisted taste—it was shocking.

Perhaps that face is why the world never let him be. Maybe that’s also why he’s skilled with a sword—he had to learn to survive while handling dangerous drugs. Dangerous drugs are usually traded secretly in back alleys.

Come to think of it, he didn’t even reveal his family name properly. Perhaps he was a notorious noble or a back-alley guild member, so he didn’t want to give his name. Could it be? Even seeing assassins from the Marquess of Movent didn’t faze him much… maybe he grew up in an environment where such threats were normal.

Dorothy’s speculation continued. If such a face existed in the capital, rumors would have spread. Since she’d never heard of him, he probably wasn’t from there. Then perhaps he was based in Serin County. If he could use the count’s horse ranch, he might have secret connections with the count.

If Serin Count had connections with back-alley drug users, he might be a scary person despite being kind to animals. Lyle tried to explain.
“Well, that’s—”

But Dorothy interrupted quickly.
“That’s okay.”

Even if Lyle was a con artist, gambler, or drug user, Dorothy decided to accept him as he was. Lops would be horrified if he knew, but Dorothy was not the kind of person to stay silent toward the one who saved her life.

“We saved each other, didn’t we?”

Dorothy winked and whispered.