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chapter 21
If I wanted to avoid making a big deal out of things, I could have just brushed it off with something cheerful like, “It’s nothing! The cake looked so delicious I cried!”
But what I’ve endured until now wasn’t something I could dismiss as “nothing,” and if I let this slide, I’d just end up facing the same situation again.
I had no intention of tasting sweet potato cake when I ordered strawberry cake.
If I couldn’t resolve this myself, then I could rely on someone else’s help. I’d learned that there was nothing shameful in that. The shame was in being ungrateful.
I rubbed my eyes until they were red, then pointed straight at Georgi.
“He’s the problem.”
Dante narrowed his eyes at Georgi. A chill seemed to seep into the air itself, freezing everything around us. The sudden sharpness in his triple-pupiled eyes sent shivers down my spine.
The moment I pointed him out, Georgi curled his lips into a smirk and turned his gaze toward Dante.
“Oh, so you’re this guy?”
He raised his little finger crudely and snickered. But arrogance like that only lasts for a moment.
“From the looks of your clothes, you’re from some rich family. What’s there to see in that orphan—”
As I mentioned before, Dante van Dyke is a hothead who acts with his fists first.
Thwack!
A brutal sound rang out as Dante’s fist connected with Georgi’s face. His body lurched, lost balance, and collapsed to the ground with a thud. He didn’t even manage a scream before passing out cold.
Unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt, Dante turned back to me.
“Would you mind explaining what happened?”
He strikes first and asks questions later—what a terrifying man.
“Well, he’s my relative. Pretty much useless trash. You can keep hitting him if you want.”
I gave a brief introduction. Dante rolled up his sleeves, placed one hand on his hip, and stood motionless over Georgi’s collapsed body, staring down at him.
He looked like a predator that had let its prey go just to catch it again. He was clearly waiting for him to wake up.
But then, when I saw the hatred burning in Dante’s pale-blue eyes, I felt a strange unease. Why was he this angry? It was as if he were looking at a sworn enemy he’d been waiting to crush.
“Quit faking it. Get up.”
Ezekiel snapped his fingers, and Georgi’s eyes flew open as he staggered upright.
Was that… magic? Like snapping someone out of hypnosis?
Georgi grabbed his swelling cheek and scowled, pointing at his injury.
“H-how dare you hit me? I’m on track to join the Imperial Knights, you know! I’ll call the police—”
Ezekiel snapped his fingers again, grinning wickedly.
“Shall we start over? For someone aspiring to be an Imperial Knight, you sure can’t take a hit.”
It was as if time had rewound—Georgi’s face returned to being spotless, with no trace of injury.
Noticing how strange and unsettling this was, Georgi’s face grew paler and paler.
“You… you’re all demons, aren’t you?”
After three cycles of being knocked out and brought back, Georgi finally seemed to learn his place. He stayed quiet in front of the real predators—Dante and Ezekiel.
“You didn’t realize when you were only picking on weaker people, huh? That you could just as easily get beaten down yourself.”
At my rebuke, Georgi looked at me with swollen eyes and asked,
“…Who is he? You never said you knew someone like that.”
Ezekiel scoffed at him, as if he were beneath notice.
“Would you have behaved if she had? Pathetic. Apologize before you get hit again.”
Shakily rising to his feet, Georgi wiped the blood dripping from his nose and bowed his head—not to me, but to Dante.
“I’m sorry.”
“Not me. Apologize to the one you wronged.”
At Dante’s commanding tone, fear surged back into Georgi. He shrank instinctively, then turned reluctantly toward me, his face twisted, and gave a perfunctory apology.
“Sorry.”
“Doesn’t sound sincere.”
Seeing Dante’s fist clench again, Georgi flinched and quickly corrected himself.
“Mia, I—I’m sorry for saying those awful things. Sorry for bullying you all this time—for pushing you into water, shoving you down the stairs, kicking you, and for the other things I don’t even remember…”
Thud—
He never got to finish.
As I said, Dante is a hothead.
Stepping over Georgi’s sprawled body without hesitation, Dante stretched out his hand to me.
“Let’s go.”
He even trampled over one of Korea’s greatest taboos—stepping across a fallen body. Flawless.
Admiring him inwardly, I took Dante’s hand and hopped over Georgi’s limp form. You’ll have nothing but bad luck from here on out, I thought with satisfaction.
“Do we really have to walk like this?”
Ezekiel looked at us with clear disapproval.
But in the end, it made for quite the wholesome picture: Dante, me, and Ezekiel, all walking hand-in-hand.
And yet, for some reason, not being alone anymore made me feel unexpectedly reassured.
The rest of the chapter describes the peaceful walk home, Ezekiel joking about “Tin Can” (Killian) and “Scarecrow” (Eluard), their lighthearted banter, my gratitude, reflections on kindness, and assigning everyone training tasks—baking, hedge sculpting, financial projects. Dante, eager for housework, makes me realize he’s like “nagging in action,” while I reconsider how to truly wear him out.
At the end, with a serious face, I tell him:
“Dante, you’ve done so much already. You’ve worked hard. From now on, I’ll help with the housework too.”
To which Dante, the man who lives for cleaning, trembles with shock at my words.
