Chapter 8
“Young Duke, Lieutenant Mikel Diaz is here to see you.”
“…Mikel?”
Mikel was my classmate at the military academy. He was the son of a wealthy textile merchant controlling the southwest region, and the only one at school who spoke casually to me.
“Yes, he said he had a prior appointment with you, Young Duke. Shall I show him into the parlor?”
I hadn’t arranged any appointment. I remembered he once casually mentioned wanting to visit the duke’s residence, so I told him to go ahead. Apparently, he had meant it seriously. Riding a carriage from so far away would take at least five days, yet here he was, coming all the way to the eastern region.
“Just tell him to come here.”
Until just now, I had been sitting by the window in my study, going through the mountain of marriage proposals stacked like a tower, one by one, as if unwrapping candy.
Since he came all this way, I figured we might as well go through the proposals together. I could have him read aloud all the cheesy, clichéd, and stale lines in a humorous tone. That might inject a bit of liveliness into this monotonous daily life.
Squeak.
With the sound of the door, a familiar face appeared.
“Oh, Alisa! Living the good life, huh?”
Mikel looked just as he had on graduation day—his spiky yellow hair, olive-green eyes, and neatly tailored dark-green lieutenant uniform.
Despite a physique so muscular it might appear almost brutish, he was sharp and perceptive, quick to laugh and quick to make others laugh. In short, being around him was fun.
“So, you’ve realized the Young Duke without residency has it good now, huh? Come, sit.”
Mikel plopped down in the chair beside me. Leaning his massive upper body toward me, he looked at the countless envelopes on the desk and opened his mouth in astonishment.
“What’s all this, Alisa? All these letters for you?”
“Yes. All these men want to marry me.”
“…Hmm.”
“How many do you want to take? Boring, unthoughtful, and uninspiring—they’re perfect as sleeping pills. It’s hard to find one that isn’t ghostwritten. Three of them even have the same handwriting and style, probably by the same ghostwriter.”
Listening to me, Mikel quietly shuffled through the envelopes. The smile that had always adorned his friendly face gradually disappeared.
“You truly are brave aristocratic children, throwing yourselves into the fierce fires of someone like Alisa Lasantia.”
Smack!
I slapped his back with my palm. Whenever he opened his mouth to protest, I would lightly punish him like this.
“Ugh. Not being hit for a while and then getting hit… it really hurts.”
He complained of the pain while still grinning. At this point, it almost seemed like he enjoyed the pain—a kind of perverse pleasure.
Five years ago, when I first entered the military academy, I was the first female cadet. After the entrance ceremony, no one dared approach me. Among the male classmates whispering and glancing at me, only one boldly stepped forward and extended his hand.
“Hello, Alisa.”
It was Mikel.
The academy rules dictated that classmates address each other by their surnames. Yet he strictly adhered to this rule while approaching me first, even though no one else did.
Seeing Mikel speak to me, the other classmates whispered among themselves. How could a commoner cadet speak so freely to a duke’s daughter?
But Mikel’s greatest trait was his complete disregard for others’ opinions. No matter what anyone said, he spoke casually to me, cracked silly jokes, and acted playful—just like now.
“…I’m serious, Alisa. I know you. There aren’t many men who can handle you.”
His serious expression was so amusing that I just laughed.
“Pfft, so there aren’t many… but at least there are some, huh?”
“There are. Which is why I’m absolutely against these insignificant brats… ahem, I mean young nobles.”
He grumbled, scattering the pile of letters with his rough hands.
“Oh really? Then what kind of man would you approve of instead of these insignificant brats?”
“Hmm… at least a prince from a neighboring country, I guess. If it’s that, I’ll acknowledge it and step aside.”
Until then, I laughed it off. I had no idea then. I didn’t realize that the words Mikel had casually thrown out would take root.
Whether to enter the countess’s bedroom or not.
The cruel choice was drawing near.
David’s daily life had become as barren as ruins left by war.
Perhaps because each time he woke, there seemed to be fewer things left to think about, falling into a deep sleep was impossible.
Despite the dark circles under his eyes, he still joined the dawn training. While everyone else warmed up around the training field, he sprinted alone with all his strength until his heart felt full and swollen.
Yet the gloomy thoughts wouldn’t dissipate.
Soon, David noticed a familiar gaze from a corner of the training ground early in the morning.
The Countess Bogdan, accompanied by her maids, was watching the knights train.
In the past, he would have walked by without a second thought. The countess visited the training ground every few days to ostensibly oversee the knights’ welfare, claiming that the count was too busy to monitor them personally.
But today, David realized the truth: her gaze had remained fixed solely on him for over an hour.
Whenever their eyes met and he greeted her politely, it was no wonder she quickly hid behind her fan.
‘Why didn’t I notice this until now?’
He felt nauseated. He wanted to violently avoid her relentless, sticky stare. So he wore a tin helmet he usually never used and full-plate armor to conceal his figure.
The countess watched David for three full hours, leaving only near noon.
However, one of her maids lingered on the training ground. She watched him train and slowly approached, getting so close it was hard to ignore.
“Prince David, the countess wishes to see you.”
It had come.
But he didn’t want to face her immediately.
“I have nothing to discuss with the countess. I must continue training. Could you excuse me?”
David answered without even looking at the maid.
“She insists you must come. I hope you’ll accompany her, Your Highness.”
“….”
David closed his mouth and ears, enduring in silence. Flustered by his refusal, the maid rushed to the nearby captain of the knights. Upon hearing her, the captain strode over and reproached David.
“Sir David, the lady of the house summoned you. Shouldn’t you go? I’ll excuse you from afternoon training if you do.”
As a knight, David couldn’t disobey the captain.
Like a bull led to slaughter, he arrived at the countess’s reception room.
Knock, knock, knock.
The maid in front knocked on the door.
“Milady, Prince David is here.”
“Ah, let him in.”
A response came from inside. As the large door opened, Countess Bogdan, adjusting the hair near her ears in a hand mirror, rose to her feet and bowed.
“Your Highness, welcome.”
It took only a few seconds for David to notice her face was flushed.
Now in her early forties, Lena Bogdan, Countess of Bogdan, wore a yellow empire dress with a low neckline. Fifteen years younger than the count, with two sons. He had vaguely heard rumors that she was recently on bad terms with her husband, but didn’t know the reason and hadn’t cared.
David returned her bow politely, maintaining his composure.
“Welcome, Countess.”
“Please, sit, Your Highness.”
Suppressing an instinctive aversion, David quietly obeyed. After all, she hadn’t directly demanded anything, and as his lord’s wife, he could not disobey.
The reason for calling him was obvious: she had tried baiting him through the queen, and with no response, she had come directly.
The two sat across from each other, with steaming teacups between them.
The countess took a sip, glancing at David, then noticed a faint wound on his right cheek.
“Oh dear, a scratch on such a precious face! I must apply ointment immediately—”
“Why did you summon me?”
David cut off her fuss and asked straight to the point. The countess fidgeted with her earrings, speaking again hesitantly.
“Well… the reason I requested this meeting, as you may have guessed, is that I wish to sponsor you.”
“…You wish to sponsor me?”
Sponsor. In aristocratic society, this was a polite way of saying she intended to financially support him.
David set aside disdain for a moment and looked directly into the countess’s eyes.
“Yes, Your Highness, you have been living solely on the stipend from Sir Wolbong. As a prince, wouldn’t it be insufficient to maintain dignity?”
Dignity as a prince. He had never possessed it, nor wished for it. Internally smirking, he asked one question.
“If I accept your sponsorship, what would I owe you in return?”
