Episode 11
“……!”
El let out a sigh as he saw Céline’s startled expression.
“That incident at the welcoming banquet—you didn’t think we wouldn’t find out, did you? My lady told us everything.”
Céline nodded quietly.
So that was why El had agreed to her request so easily—there was a reason.
After walking for dozens of minutes, Céline stopped before a great door carved with the image of a wolf. El reached for the handle.
Just then, the door opened from the inside.
Leonhardt stood there, wrapped in thick furs from head to toe, his hat pulled low as if ready to ride out. He looked down at her.
“……What are you doing here?”
For a moment, Céline couldn’t speak.
Leonhardt looked far too handsome bundled up in fur.
“I asked you a question. What are you doing here?”
“……You already know.”
Snapping out of her daze, Céline lifted her chin and met his gaze head-on. Leonhardt sighed.
“Go back.”
“I’ve come all this way.”
He shook his head.
“Tonight, I won’t be here.”
“Where are you going?”
Her voice trembled slightly.
“Night hunt. Father went to capture a stray monster, but he found a whole pack instead.”
Céline gasped.
“You mean—you’ll be out all night…?”
Leonhardt nodded.
“Yes. Normally it wouldn’t take that long, but… I have my own issue.”
“What if you fall into a nightmare while fighting?”
Something hot and painful tightened in her chest. Leonhardt’s answer was calm.
“Then the monsters will wake me up. I might even thank them for it.”
“……”
Céline couldn’t say anything.
“So, go back.”
“You could go in the morning.”
Her throat tightened, and her voice came out awkwardly strained.
“By morning, the pack leader will have transformed. You know what that means—we have to stop it before then.”
He gave her a brief look, then stepped past her. He didn’t need to rush, but seeing the hurt glimmer in Céline’s pale-gray eyes made his chest ache.
“……I’m going with you.”
“No.”
“Why not? Because it’s dangerous? You said the leader hasn’t transformed yet.”
“That’s not it.”
Leonhardt turned slightly toward her.
“My strength… isn’t enough.”
El, who had been silently watching, inhaled sharply in shock.
There wasn’t a soul in the entire keep who didn’t know how proud Leonhardt Bernoui was.
And yet, those words—“I’m not strong enough”—had just come from his mouth. Even the Grand Duke and Duchess had likely never heard him say such a thing.
“I realized it that night.”
“Leonhardt.”
Bundled thickly in her coat, the small woman stepped closer to him.
“If you were perfect, why would I insist on going with you? You’d be fine on your own.”
“……Céline.”
He looked troubled, stepping back a little.
“If the monsters are truly too dangerous, I’ll stay. Just be honest with me.”
His lips parted, then closed again without a word.
Should I tell her they’re deadly? That she’d be torn apart in seconds…?
But staring into her steady gray-blue eyes, he couldn’t bring himself to lie.
“They’re much weaker than the ones we saw before. But northern monsters are cleverer than those in the capital—you’ll have to stay sharp.”
“See? You just said we’ll need to stay sharp. How can you fight if you keep falling asleep?”
“……”
Céline smiled—she knew she’d won.
“Give me a hat too.”
Moments later, Céline breathed in the cold night air. Her hat was pulled down to her ears, and her scarf wrapped tightly enough that the northern chill felt almost refreshing.
Leonhardt rode even more carefully than on the day they first met.
“You won’t die unless the horse runs full speed.”
Céline tried to sound reassuring, but Leonhardt only gave a short “Got it,” without increasing their pace.
She gazed out across the plains, her vision rocking gently with the horse’s rhythm.
Moonlight cast a pale glow over nameless grasses swaying in the wind.
Suddenly, the horse halted.
Céline thought Leonhardt had stopped it, but it snorted and stamped, as if some unseen barrier blocked its path.
They dismounted cautiously.
Leonhardt reached out and took her right hand in his left.
“Like before, right? If a monster shows up, I hide behind you.”
Céline’s voice was steady. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t afraid, but she was the one who insisted on coming.
“No.”
Leonhardt looked at her briefly, then faced forward again.
“Don’t let go of my hand.”
“But if you’re fighting—!”
“Shh.”
He pressed a finger to his lips. Céline instantly fell silent—then realized, as he smiled faintly, that he’d teased her.
“Leonhardt!”
A chill ran down her spine.
A monstrous growl echoed nearby, followed by a foul stench.
Leonhardt showed no reaction. Céline wasn’t stupid—she knew the pack was close.
She tried to pull her hand away, but Leonhardt only tightened his grip and drew his sword, Lashir.
“Remember what I said.”
“I do.”
Through the grass, grotesque shapes emerged—those same creatures she’d seen days ago, the ones that had ripped her apart. Their fangs and claws gleamed in the moonlight.
Céline braced herself, opening and closing her eyes once.
I came to help Leonhardt. Not to be a burden.
The next moment, she was yanked off the ground and set back down hard—Leonhardt had pulled her close.
She stumbled, following his movements as his sword flashed before her eyes. Behind them, fire flared, and his shouted command rang out over the monsters’ piercing screams.
The air reeked of blood and rot, but Céline never let go of his hand, and he never released hers.
Time blurred.
Even after what felt like ages, Leonhardt was still slashing through the heap of corpses.
His eyes were calm, movements sure and fluid, with no hesitation.
Céline felt her fear ebb away.
The memories of her body being torn apart faded, replaced by the sight of monsters crumbling before them.
Maybe this is why he brought me here.
He hadn’t told her to hide behind him this time—only to hold his hand. That, too, was his way of showing care.
Suddenly, her vision swayed.
Leonhardt’s grip loosened. She caught his arm just as he groaned in pain.
The remaining monsters, still many in number, turned their glowing eyes toward him.
“Leonhardt!”
She grabbed him and shouted.
“Wake up, Leonhardt!”
He had always woken instantly before—but not this time.
Sweat dampened her back.
“Leonhardt!”
A bold monster lunged. Leonhardt’s eyes shot open only after its claws ripped his cloak and drew blood.
—Clang!
The beast fell in two. Leonhardt, sweating, glanced at her.
“……You shouldn’t have come.”
“Why couldn’t you wake up? If you can’t even be roused by someone else anymore…”
He shook his head.
“Not in a single day. It’s probably because of the night hunt—the air’s full of magic. Makes smaller sensations fade away.”
—Clang! Clang! Clang!
With every few words, another monster dropped dead.
Céline bit her lip.
“Next time, I’ll slap you if I have to.”
“That gives me an idea.”
“……?”
A sudden chill swept over her.
Before she realized it, Leonhardt had smoothly stripped off her coat.
But before she could shiver, he pulled her into his arms and draped the coat over both of them.
“If I fall asleep again, kick me in the shin.”
All Céline could see was his chest—bathed in soft moonlight, the Grand Duke’s crest glimmered on his uniform.
Leonhardt moved with sharp, precise motions, his arm still around her waist.
Strangely enough, Céline felt like she was dancing—a dance she’d never learned.
Then, he froze again.
Without hesitation, she drove her fist into his stomach.
“Ugh…!”
He jolted awake, looked down at her, then cut down the charging monster.
“Effective.”
“At last—I’m actually useful!”
Céline couldn’t stop her smile from spreading. Leonhardt gave a brief laugh.
“Is hitting me really that satisfying?”
“Let’s say it is.”
Ten minutes later, Leonhardt once again began to breathe heavily in the grip of a nightmare. Céline punched him, but too weakly this time—he didn’t wake.
So she kicked his shin.
That worked.
Finally, Leonhardt released her. No monsters remained alive; the field was littered with their stinking corpses.
Céline exhaled in disbelief.
“Cleaning all this up must be exhausting…”
“Not really.”
Leonhardt rubbed his bruised shin with a shrug.
It hurt a little, but this night hunt—despite everything—was far better than any before.
At least this time, he hadn’t woken up with claws and teeth embedded in his flesh.
“In a few days, these corpses will decompose—only the teeth and horns will remain.”
“Ugh…”
Céline shuddered.
“The worst parts, you mean?”
“Not wrong,” Leonhardt admitted.
“But those horns and fangs are packed with magic. Once refined by skilled mages, they become top-grade magic stones. The North’s main export.”
Céline trembled at the realization.
If these remains were the North’s income source, how many monsters had Leonhardt slain over the years?
She stared at a nearby fang—jagged like a fish’s teeth, yet large and venomous like a serpent’s.
“I thought magic stones looked like gemstones…”
“In a way, they do.”
“……?”
“When a good mage refines them, they shine brighter than most jewels. Hard to believe, I know.”
Leonhardt smiled faintly at her round gray-blue eyes.
“If you’d like, I’ll sneak you one someday. To a non-mage, it’s just a pretty stone—but you can keep it as a memento.”
