IWLMS 20

Chapter 20

Kylian pulled Lune over to the sofa and sat her down, then perched casually on the armrest.

“Now, talk.”

“Talk about what?”

“I’m curious what went through your head. Did you climb in through the window once and think climbing back out would be fine too?”

He opened the first-aid kit and uncorked a glass vial of disinfectant. The sharp scent spread as he dampened a pad of gauze.

Wrinkling her nose, she replied sheepishly,

“Well… I thought I could slip out of the castle unnoticed before dawn.”

Kylian furrowed his brows deeply.

“I realized yesterday too, but you’re reckless from the very start. Hard to believe you’ve been so obedient under the Marquis all this time.”

“I didn’t expect to run into Your Grace. I never meant to cause you trouble. My apologies.”

“…That’s not the point here.”

With a sigh, he pulled her slender wrist into his hand and pressed the medicated gauze against her skin.

“Ow.”

The shallow scrape from her fall out of the tree stung. Her small cry slipped out before she could stop it, and Kylian clicked his tongue.

“If you ever pull a stunt that foolish again, I’ll contact the Marquis immediately. Be prepared.”

His tone sounded almost as if he was truly worried about her. As he carefully rubbed ointment over the wound, Lune gently pulled her arm away.

“That’s enough, thank you.”

Her wrist, once held, throbbed with a nervous pulse.

She should have left last night. Worry, concern… all those useless things only weakened the heart.

Lune stood quickly, picked up her bag, and bowed.

“I’ve already greeted Your Grace, so I’ll be going now.”

“Did you forget what I said? I clearly told you to depart for Lepium together with me.”

“No. This much help is already more than enough. I’ll greet you properly again at the Academy.”

Kylian silently studied her, hiding her hands behind her back.

Again. She came to him because she needed his recommendation, yet if she received anything more than that, she acted as if it would be disastrous.

He sighed softly.

It made sense. Under the Marquis of Este’s strict rules, she had likely never once dared to ask for what she wanted, nor had such requests ever been granted.

“You’re in need of help right now. And I intend to help you.”

“…What?”

“Is it really so hard to accept a kindness?”

She parted her lips but couldn’t form an answer.

“Give up that arrogant thought that you have to solve everything alone. Having the courage to accept help—that too is bravery.”

Not waiting for a reply, he ruffled his own hair lightly and said,

“The sea. I’ll show it to you up close. Come with me.”

Kylian brought her to the coast below the cliffs of the ducal castle. White waves broke into foam across the sand, and Lune stared in awe.

“My lord! The water moves. It really is nothing like a lake.”

Chasing the rolling waves closer, she suddenly stumbled backward as the tide rushed in toward her feet.

Before they could be soaked, Kylian’s strong arm circled her waist and lifted her effortlessly.

So careless. His clicking tongue and scolding voice made her face burn hot.

“P-put me down.”

When she squirmed, he frowned deeply.

“Stay still, unless you want me to toss you into the sea.”

Despite his words, he set her gently onto the soft sand. Her feet remained dry, though Kylian had to peel off his boots filled with water.

“Walk a bit.”

He strode barefoot along the shore as if accustomed to it. Watching his back, Lune timidly set her shoes neatly beside his and followed barefoot.

“Walking barefoot…”

Normally she never would have thought of such a thing. Soon she was running lightly over the wet sand to catch up. She thought she heard him let out a quiet chuckle.

Shhh—

The foamy surf smoothed over the long trail of their footprints.

For quite some time, they walked to the rhythm of the crashing waves.

Kylian, unexpectedly, was a good conversationalist. He mostly listened quietly, but also shared stories of the western deserts.

“Ethan’s crying was only whining. A truly parched man wouldn’t have been able to utter a word.”

“The sea amazes me, but the desert sounds just as fascinating. Quivering heat over endless sand… I can’t even picture it. Surely Sir Ethan must have suffered greatly.”

The image of Ethan’s teary face made Lune giggle softly. Kylian frowned and tilted his head.

“You never take my side, do you?”

Never take his side? That strangely familiar phrasing made her mouth fall open.

Often, Kylian spoke as though he had known her for years. And whenever he did, she—who had no memory—found herself at a loss.

“I wasn’t taking anyone’s side.”

Her neutral reply seemed to displease him. His dark eyes narrowed.

“In that case, you might as well take mine.”

Under the blazing sun, his obsidian eyes shimmered faintly red.

Red-black eyes.

It was an uncommon, striking color. Crimson eyes, the symbol of the Leonhard imperial line. Noble blood.

Kylian was living proof that the ducal house of Heraise, once kin to the imperial family, still carried that blood.

Entranced, she stared into those captivating eyes before hastily shaking her head and striding past him.

She had let the waves at her ankles make her giddy and forgotten herself. It struck her as remarkable that she was walking side by side with Kylian, talking so easily—here, far from Este lands.

As a child, whenever she heard stories of Kylian, she had always been curious about him. Even Jun’s letters about the Academy painted his image in her mind.

At some point, she found herself imagining the Kylian she could not actually remember.

“…I wanted to see you.”

“…What?”

The words slipped out unconsciously like a mutter. Kylian stopped in his tracks, but Lune, lost in thought, didn’t notice and kept walking.

“Ah, perhaps it’s more proper to say I wished to meet you.”

With an awkward laugh, she brushed a flushed ear.

“Every time I held a sword, I thought of you.”

She didn’t want to disappoint the man who had recommended her.

“It feels strange. Not long ago, I never would have imagined walking beside you like this.”

And she wanted to prove to her father that she could do it.

“You’ll see. Before long, I’ll be a knight worthy to stand shoulder to shoulder with you.”

“……”

When no reply came for a long while, she turned—and found Kylian right before her, pressing down gently on her head.

“Keep your eyes ahead when you walk.”

“Ah, again with the head…” she grumbled, staggering like a newborn fawn.

Kylian gazed at her crown, suppressing a sigh.

All that, just from a boy’s earnest words…

That strange, tightening ache in his chest—he couldn’t name it. Yet the feelings her words stirred were startlingly clear.

When she said she had wanted to see him, he realized, overwhelmingly—he was happy.

He couldn’t lower the hand covering his mouth for a long while. What the hand failed to hide, his eyes betrayed—their corners flushed red.

On the fourth day of Lune’s stay in the ducal estate, Kylian prepared to leave for the capital earlier than expected. Of course, that “early” was only by his own standard.

“Didn’t you say we wouldn’t be late?”

Arms crossed, Lune scowled as he fastened his cufflinks. He looked back with a calm smile.

“The entrance ceremony is in three days. What’s the problem?”

Unbelievable.

“The application deadline is today.”

“Mm. Not too late, then.”

She had waited because he promised they’d leave soon—but now, with only one day to apply and take the exam, she would be in a rush.

Of course, I’m the one pressed for time. I should’ve gone ahead myself.

Frustrated, she blew her bangs aside. Just then, Ethan barged into the room, having rushed over after hearing the news.

“What! The rumors were true—you’re the Este heir himself? How on earth did you make it all the way here?”

He pelted her with questions, barely listening to the answers, before Kylian dragged him away.

Whether they would truly leave today remained uncertain, but Kylian stepped out to check the final arrangements.

“If you don’t want to be late, you’d better head to the reception room.”

As he said, a servant soon appeared to escort her—Duke Carlo was waiting.

So far, it seemed the duke had indeed kept his promise not to contact her father. If anything, he appeared rather amused by her escapade, as though her rebellion delighted him.

“Ah, you’re here. Come in, come in.”

In the reception room, Duke Carlo greeted her with a bright smile from his wheelchair. Beside him stood a woman, who bowed politely. It was the seamstress Lune had seen before.

I thought I’d be wearing Jun’s old uniform.

But the duke had gone as far as to commission a new Academy uniform for her. Two days earlier, she had been whisked off without a chance to refuse, and before she knew it, the fitting was done.

She had fretted that the bandages around her chest would be discovered, but her worries proved needless.

As expected of the ducal household’s personal seamstress, the woman’s skill was impeccable. She had completed the uniform by the morning of departure.

Refusing all offers of assistance, Lune changed behind a screen.

“Don’t move, you might get pricked by a pin.”

Standing still, she looked down at the seamstress kneeling at her feet. Just as on their first meeting, she struck Lune as a reserved woman, her dark brown hair neatly pinned up.

The pins on the wrist cushion weren’t even needed—the uniform fit perfectly.

At last, the seamstress’s hands stilled.

“All done. Please, come to the mirror.”

Standing before the tall glass, Lune’s blue eyes flickered faintly.