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Chapter 8
Just a few dozen minutes earlier.
As they left the duke’s audience chamber, Hector leaned toward Edwin’s ear and whispered:
“You know, these days I find that lady the most entertaining.”
Edwin didn’t bother to reply—he ignored him completely, as if he hadn’t heard a thing.
But Hector, befitting the strongest knight of Calypse, was not one to give up easily.
“Edwin, don’t you find her fun? Didn’t you see the look on the Captain of the Guard’s face because of her? Ugh, how do you even live without a little fun?”
“For heaven’s sake, shut up!”
He only ever seemed satisfied once he drove Edwin into anger. It was no wonder everyone said Edwin was exhausted from him.
Anyway.
The “that lady” in “I find that lady the most entertaining”—
She was the one who had recently provided Hector Rodique, who lived for amusement, with endless entertainment.
“Wait a second!”
Yet despite all the fun she had offered him lately—
Hector’s gaze toward the rushing Belladis was shockingly cold.
Tilting his head askew, Hector spoke in a low tone.
“Hey, you lot. Do you know what she almost called our young lord back in the audience chamber?”
“Uh… ‘Excuse me?’”
“This is why Edwin’s subordinates look down on you for being clueless.”
“Oh, so we’re supposed to know?”
“‘Honey.’”
“What? H-honey?!”
“Keep your voice down, idiot. If His Lordship hears, you’ll be a dead man.”
Hector smirked, and his men chuckled.
But their laughter slowly faded, and before long it stopped completely.
What remained in its place was only a sharp, chilling air.
“And now, all of a sudden, what wind has blown through her?”
If she meant to say, Let’s forget everything and get along, was that even human?
At that moment, his eyes locked with the young lord’s wife.
“Hector Rodique!”
The knights stared wide-eyed at him in surprise.
But the one most shocked was Hector himself.
“…Who? Me?”
Even his lieutenant couldn’t bring himself to respond, so the lady herself confirmed it.
“Sir Rodique!”
Panting hard, Belladis finally reached Hector and stopped right in front of him.
Or rather, nearly collapsed.
“Huff, huff… ha, huff-huff…”
Hector reflexively glanced at his master.
But Theodore only observed Belladis with an unreadable expression.
“……”
Whether they’re on good terms or not, her husband is right there with his eyes wide open—so why come running to me?
Hector suppressed the unease and asked,
“Um… are you all right?”
“N-not… huff… damn it, huff… my body… huff-huff…”
The hulking knight had no idea how to deal with the petite young lady, barely half his size.
Patting her back felt like it might break her. And no matter what, she was the young lord’s wife—touching her seemed improper.
As he hesitated awkwardly, another reason for discomfort arose.
She had finally caught her breath, and now Belladis was staring at him—boldly, as if sizing him up.
“…Um, why are you looking at me like that?”
“What a waste.”
“…Pardon?”
“A waste. In many ways, you would’ve been the better choice.”
Muttering incomprehensible words, she flicked her fingers.
The gesture was so natural that Hector instinctively leaned closer.
Belladis whispered:
“Say you’re too sick to go.”
“…What?”
“Say you’re ill and can’t go.”
Her voice was strangely bewitching, and it sent chills down his spine.
Hector held his breath as he stared at her.
Pink irises with black pupils—
Even that part of her didn’t seem human.
If before she’d seemed like a lifeless doll, now it was as though—
“Hector.”
A low, firm voice rang right beside him, snapping his senses back.
He suddenly realized just how close he’d gotten to the young lord’s wife.
“Ugh!”
When did that happen?!
As Hector stumbled back in panic, a tall, lean shadow stepped between them.
Unlike Hector, who had bent down, this man loomed over her with an oppressive air.
Because of that, Belladis had to crane her head back just to meet his gaze.
Unconsciously, she held her breath.
So close.
Close enough that their breaths mingled.
At that intimate distance, Theodore opened his mouth.
“Wife.”
A voice endlessly low, endlessly cold.
The moment it seeped beneath her heart, her entire body seemed to sink with a thud.
Even while staring into eyes that held not a single grain of warmth—her body…
“Whatever you had to say to Sir Rodique, wouldn’t it be better to say it later? Time is of the essence right now.”
Thump, thump.
Her pulse pounded so violently it felt like her body might shake.
“Escort her inside.”
Theodore’s gaze pressed down on her like a physical weight.
After staring intently, he turned away without hesitation.
Only when he was out of breath’s reach did Belladis finally exhale.
Dust filled the air as the knights busily mounted their horses.
Theodore walked away through the heavy cloud of dust with cold, unyielding steps.
Her dazed eyes slowly cleared, though her chest still throbbed.
That dull ache came from the dead Belladis’s emotions.
But the fire burning up from within—that was her own.
How did I end up in this damn body?
There wasn’t a single thing she liked about it.
“Sir Rodique! Excuse me, Sir Rodique!”
Even then, Hector Rodique dared to ignore her, feigning deafness under his master’s gaze.
“Hector Rodique!”
“Let’s go, my lady!”
“Sir! …Hey!”
At her cry, the Calypse knights froze in place as if bewitched.
Sensing something strange, even the horses fell silent.
Thick, blue veins bulged on Theodore’s neck.
His squire, recognizing his master’s rising fury, quietly backed away.
Meanwhile, Belladis strode up to Hector.
The giant knight, who had stubbornly stared straight ahead, reluctantly looked down at her.
Gone was his usual playful grin—his expression now held such intimidation that even fellow knights would acknowledge it.
But the young lord’s wife, looking up at him, showed not a shred of fear.
Belladis stared into his eyes, thinking hard.
If she could, she’d break his leg to keep him from going.
But breaking a giant’s leg would surely cost her own wrist first.
Telling him not to go hadn’t worked either.
“You’re going to go no matter what I say, right?”
Ugh, casual speech again.
She thought about tacking on the polite ending yo—but after calling him “hey,” what was the point?
“Lady, why are you doing this?” Hector asked.
“Wear chainmail.”
That was the moment Hector’s cold expression cracked.
“Watch your head, guard your chest. If you feel anything strange, stop immediately. And don’t just charge around recklessly inside a magic field.”
“……”
“I mean it. Wear chainmail, put on your helmet. This time, make survival your only goal.”
Hector’s gray eyes flickered uncertainly.
“You have to come back alive. Got it?”
Hector was… a little moved. Just a little.
But before that tiny spark of emotion could settle, the lady rolled her eyes and muttered darkly:
“If you die… then I’ll kill you myself.”
…How could I die and then die again?
Yet strangely, it felt like she could actually make that happen—so Hector found himself answering before he realized it:
“Yes.”
Belladis stepped back, uneasy.
And then, her eyes met his.
At the front of the formation, Theodore Calypse was watching her with a dry, humorless face.
When he silently turned his head and rode out, the knights moved after him like a wave.
“Let us go inside, my lady.”
Prodded impatiently by Edwin, Belladis turned her back to Theodore.
She began walking against the tide of knights.
Their shadowed gazes as they passed were far from kind.
No—unkind would’ve been generous. Some even felt hostile.
Unbelievable.
Do they think I’m doing this just for myself? Who’s the one suffering most here?
