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Chapter 12
“Goodness, Sir Ange. Did I hear you correctly just now?”
“My apologies. I’ve never met such a frail… outsider before, so I failed to be considerate.”
When Dana questioned him in disbelief, the knight added on, pretending to apologize.
“My lady is from the Valois family, is she not? A noble house renowned for producing excellent knights for generations.”
“And what does that have to do with anything?”
He shrugged.
“I’m only concerned, is all. Even someone like you—raised strong with knightly training since childhood—struggles to endure, yet someone this delicate…”
“Sir Ange, if you say one more word, I will have no choice but to report everything to His Grace the Grand Duke.”
Dana, face contorted in fury, was preparing to step forward when—
Aria held up a card.
[How old are you?]
His age?
A completely random question.
“I’m twenty-four this year…”
Aria had died at twenty in her previous life. Even counting that, he was about four years older than she was.
She couldn’t help but look at him with pity.
[Health, status, strength—every advantage you brag about is just something you were lucky enough to be born with.]
[In the twenty-four years you’ve lived, have you achieved so little yourself that you cling to your outer shell for pride?]
The knight blinked slowly, as if doubting his ears.
Never—not once in his life—had he imagined hearing such words from a ten-year-old.
As the meaning finally hit him, his face flushed bright red.
…This brat!
Ange Beaufort.
Second son of Beaufort, a vassal family. A knight of the 4th Knight Order.
The 4th Order was composed of knights who didn’t belong anywhere else—essentially the misfits.
Because of that, they were subtly ignored by other knights.
Even worse, he hadn’t entered by merit but by being transferred in thanks to the influence of House Beaufort.
Aria had pierced straight into the deepest, unspoken inferiority he had never dared voice.
[My body can be healed with medicine, but how will you heal that broken heart of yours? That’s unfortunate.]
“Pfft.”
Stifled laughter was heard.
Sir Ange whipped around with a murderous look, trembling with humiliation.
Even the knight who laughed only shrugged at his fierce glare.
He’s not wrong—you’re nothing special without your family.
His expression said exactly that.
These filthy low-lives… in pairs, even…
Ange ground his teeth.
And what makes you think you’re so great, huh? You—who lived abused all your life, who got dragged here by your own father to be sold as a sacrifice, who’ll be kicked out empty-handed soon!
“Then tell me, young lady—have you achieved anything on your own?”
It was a sentence no adult should ever say to a child.
But Ange, blinded by rage, spat it out.
Aria smiled kindly, as if looking at a senseless child, and held up another card.
[I’ll make sure I never grow up to be like you.]
A flawless victory.
Dana, Betty, and all the servants watching were stunned.
They had always thought the young lady was merely cute and lovable—never imagining this side of her.
But at the same time, respect and awe began to bloom in their hearts.
Especially Dana, who knew Aria’s circumstances best.
She could have said she was a noble herself… but instead she called the title granted by His Majesty nothing more than a hollow shell.
Every human life is equal.
Without such a belief, no one could utter those words.
It was a radical idea—especially in the class-bound Fineta Empire.
“Wh–what! How dare you—!”
The knight shouted reflexively, then clamped his mouth shut.
“Sir Ange, have you gone mad?”
“Do not show further disrespect to the young lady. Step back.”
Even the knights who had been watching with displeasure spoke up.
“That wen—no, that young lady—”
While he glared at Aria with a face that clearly wished to strike her—
Aria tilted her head slightly.
She was debating.
He kept talking about “classes” and “rank,” so she wanted to show him the real difference. But too many people were watching.
Should I visit him later in secret?
But…
Not worth the effort. Too troublesome.
As Aria silently observed the argument between the knights and Sir Ange—
“…Wench?”
A youthful voice echoed.
Yet in that short word was an undeniable pressure.
Everyone flinched and turned toward the quietly opened door.
A boy leaned against the doorframe, his gaze fixed coldly on the knight.
Black, unreadable eyes.
But to Ange, it felt as if an arrowhead was aimed right between his brows.
Hck!
At the same moment—like a flash—he saw a sword cut through his neck.
His neck.
Beheaded. The world spinning.
The knight gasped and clutched his throat.
My… my neck…
Smooth. Unharmed.
But he had seen it—vividly—the vision of his neck being sliced open, blood gushing out.
All from the Grand Duke’s killing intent.
And Lloyd flicked his sword in the scabbard as if confirming the hallucination wasn’t a lie.
“I—I was wrong…!”
“Save your repentance for God.”
Not for a devil.
To unsheathe a sword and cut down a talking insect—one second was all it would take.
At that moment—
With his senses sharpened to the extreme, the boy heard the faint rustle of blankets.
He turned, and at the end of his gaze stood Aria.
“…”
She shook her head.
As if telling him not to.
Who do you think you are to—
But Lloyd’s gaze lingered on the bandages wrapped around Aria’s neck.
A wound he himself had inflicted.
His eyes darkened.
He gripped his sword hilt so tightly it nearly shattered.
But in the end, he did not draw it.
Grinding his teeth, he suppressed his anger.
“How refreshing. ‘Wench,’ was it?”
“P-pardon?”
“Finish it. Go on. You looked like you had more to say.”
Of course he couldn’t.
The knight trembled, drenched in cold sweat, bowing deeply.
“If you don’t finish your sentence, I’ll misunderstand. I’ll think you’re tired of living.”
Lloyd waited patiently.
A massive jaguar that followed him prowled lazily around the room.
A bizarre sight, yet everyone simply accepted it as normal. Only Ange turned pale and shook uncontrollably.
“Hiik!”
When the jaguar’s tail brushed his leg, he screamed pathetically.
He wiped his sweaty hands on his pants and licked his dry lips.
“Th-the young lady was absolutely correct…”
“Is that so?”
“Y-yes! I failed to grasp her profound wisdom and foolishly misinterpreted it…”
Life before pride. Nothing more.
Those who prattle about status crumble easily beneath true power.
Aria looked away, unsurprised.
Worthless opponent.
“Then you admit fault.”
“Y-yes, correct.”
“How will you make amends?”
“H-how…?”
Lloyd didn’t answer. Instead, he tapped on the wall beside him like a ticking clock.
Suffocating pressure.
A demon cornering prey into falling into its own trap.
“Well… I… I will…”
As soon as he couldn’t kill the man, Lloyd seemed bored.
He cast a disinterested gaze into the air.
Aria watched him quietly.
Their eyes met again.
Lloyd frowned slightly.
For a moment, a strange, impure emotion flickered in his black eyes—then vanished.
He muttered,
“The stablemaster said he’s short on help recently.”
“I’ll do it!!”
“You? Won’t the stablemaster feel burdened if a knight works under him?”
Ange clenched his trembling fists.
He wants me… to shovel horse manure? Feed hay?
His mother was the beloved niece of the late emperor. He had once enjoyed imperial favor.
Even though the new emperor had changed things, he still clung to that glory.
To him, stable work was the lowest of labor.
To work under someone who shouldn’t even dare look me in the eye…
But he knew—refusal meant death.
His instinct screamed it.
“If that’s hard, then you can simply relinquish your knighthood until you’ve reflected enough.”
“W-what!?”
“And of course, the person you offended will decide when you’ve truly reflected.”
“…”
“You look dissatisfied.”
“N-not at all. I obey…”
“Then kneel.”
A simple command.
Completely crushed by pure power, Ange knelt before Aria and pressed his forehead to the ground.
Lloyd handed the authority to grant or strip knighthood to Aria—then turned to leave.
“…”
He walked away without hesitation—then abruptly stopped.
Sighing, he ran a hand through his messy bangs.
Striding back toward Aria, he said,
“You’re an idiot.”
…What?
“Why did you just sit there and take it?”
She hadn’t taken anything. She’d said plenty.
She stopped the killing not out of mercy—but because she didn’t want blood splattered all over her room.
“Next time someone touches you, beat them senseless. I’ll allow you to punch me in the face too, if you want.”
…Isn’t that considered rebellion?
Before Aria could tell whether he was joking, Lloyd rummaged inside his coat and pulled out—
Brass knuckles.
And handed them to her.
Why are you carrying those?
To beat people, obviously.
Before she could even react—
“I’m leaving soon, so I’m giving you all my authority.”
…Why?
Before she could ask, he added, almost sounding like an excuse,
“My last courtesy to you. Use that authority to prepare living quarters outside. Don’t ever come back to Valentine Castle.”
With that mysterious gift and even more mysterious authority, Lloyd left—jaguar in tow.
Only later did Aria learn that this had been his final farewell before leaving for the Academy.
