Episode 09
“Who’s this? The woman the commander brought?”
Turning around, Rosalyn saw a knight with slicked-back ash-gray hair, looking far less knightly and more like a rogue.
“Vice-Commander.”
Jimmy stepped forward, but the man called the vice-commander paid him no mind.
That’s the vice-commander?
Rosalyn had heard of him.
Hugh Dylan, the only son of the Dylan Count family, infamous as the epitome of a delinquent noble.
In short, a thug.
He’s exactly like the reports…
From the styled hair to the crooked expression and slouchy posture.
A walking troublemaker from head to toe.
Hugh swaggered over and roughly grabbed Rosalyn’s chin.
“Not a bad face.”
“…”
The line was so cliché, it didn’t even spark anger.
Why would someone like Cassius keep a thug like this around…?
She merely felt puzzled.
Unlike Rosalyn’s calm demeanor, Jimmy’s face grew increasingly pale.
“Vice-Commander, you can’t.”
“Can’t what? What do you think I’m doing?”
Hugh was utterly shameless.
“I hear you’re quite the big shot. Holding the weaknesses of high-ranking nobles, untouchable even by aristocracy.”
Despite his taunts, Rosalyn remained unfazed.
Her mind was flipping through information on Hugh and the Dylan family.
The Dylan family’s weaknesses…
Perhaps her impassive expression got under his skin, as the grip on her chin tightened.
“Ugh.”
“I despise people like you. Lowly commoners who don’t know their place and dare to stand tall!”
At that moment, Rosalyn spotted something over Hugh’s shoulder.
Oh.
She flashed him a mocking smirk.
“You’re mocking me?”
Hugh shoved her chin away.
“Kyaa!”
Rosalyn flew back like a piece of paper, collapsing to the ground.
Her shrill scream echoed off the high ceiling.
Silence.
The piercing cry halted even the knights in the distance.
In the quiet, heavy footsteps resounded.
“What’s going on?”
A chilling voice.
Cassius descended the central staircase beneath the massive banner.
“Vice-Commander. I asked what you’re doing.”
In the stillness where even a swallowed breath would be heard, his low voice was menacing.
Hugh answered with a flustered expression, “It’s nothing. I was just disciplining a criminal. I didn’t even push her that hard…”
“Hugh Dylan.”
His excuse was cut off like a knife.
That’s it! The coolest and most righteous commander!
Forgetting she’d cursed him before, Rosalyn cheered for Cassius internally.
Hugh’s panic was genuine.
Ever heard of a Hollywood act?
Spotting Cassius descending, Rosalyn had exaggerated her fall.
It created the perfect scene of a thug assaulting a woman.
A frigid voice sliced through the icy atmosphere.
“Do you have the authority?”
Cassius pinpointed the flaw in Hugh’s excuse about “disciplining” a criminal.
The authority to supervise Rosalyn belonged solely to Cassius, her designated overseer.
By his own logic, Hugh had overstepped.
Speechless, Hugh replied with a reluctant expression, “…No.”
“Good that you know.”
Contrary to his words, Cassius’s tone was ice-cold.
Terrifyingly so.
Well, it’s kind of reassuring when he’s on my side?
Rosalyn savored the moment.
Using an enemy to defeat an enemy.
Could there be a more perfect strategy?
Time to get up…
Her legs were getting numb, so she started to rise when a pair of boots appeared before her.
“Are you alright?”
Cassius had approached.
Rosalyn decided to play the tragic heroine to the end, raising her gaze pitifully.
“I’m fine…”
But as she looked up, she froze.
Cassius was kneeling on one knee, extending a hand to her.
What is this, a knight rescuing a damsel in distress?
Sure, he was a knight, and she had been in distress…
Her own imagination gave her goosebumps.
“I’m fine. I can get up on my— Ow.”
Declining his hand, she tried to stand but clutched her ankle.
“Are you hurt?”
Cassius’s voice grew serious.
“Let’s have the infirmary check your injury.”
“Eek!”
This time, her scream was genuine.
Her body was suddenly lifted into the air.
Instinctively, Rosalyn grabbed the nearest thing.
Which happened to be Cassius’s neck.
“…”
Perhaps because they were so close.
A scent brushed her nose.
A cool, heavy fragrance, fitting the moniker of the Iron-Blooded Commander.
Like the frozen sea said to exist far in the north, it was an intensely cold aroma.
By the time she came to her senses, Cassius was pushing through a door with his back.
“Commander? What’s—?”
The medic, seeing the commander’s back first, froze in shock.
The commander carrying a woman?
No one in the Black Iron Knights could imagine him with a woman.
Unless she was covered in blood, perhaps.
“She fell.”
The medic, stunned by the unimaginable scene, snapped to attention at Cassius’s words.
“This way, please.”
Cassius laid Rosalyn on the guided bed.
“How did you fall?”
“The vice-commander threw her.”
“What? The vice-commander?”
The medic’s eyes darted in confusion.
Gauging the atmosphere, Rosalyn sat up, pointing to her ankle.
“My ankle hurts. It’s not a big injury…”
“She couldn’t even stand.”
Cassius’s resolute statement pricked her conscience.
That makes it sound serious.
It barely hurt.
It was all an act.
But she couldn’t admit that, so she clamped her mouth shut.
“Let me check the injury.”
As the medic approached, Cassius stepped back and turned away.
Lifting her skirt slightly, the medic examined her ankle, gently moving it.
“Ow, ow.”
“It’s sprained. That must’ve hurt a lot.”
No, it was fine.
Wouldn’t anyone feel pain if it was twisted like that?
Biting her lip as it subtly hurt, the room grew noisy as several people rushed in.
“A gunshot wound!”
“What? How? Lay them down!”
“An accident during shooting training… Oh! Commander!”
The knights, noticing Cassius late, stiffened.
The flustered medic asked, “Uh, Commander, I need to attend to this. I…”
“Isn’t the critical patient the priority? I can handle a sprain.”
“My apologies! Please take care of it!”
The medic rushed off, and Cassius turned back to the bed.
“Sit up.”
Rosalyn did as told, sitting on the bed.
Cassius knelt on one knee.
Removing her injured-side shoe, he placed her foot on his thigh.
His hands skillfully applied a splint and wrapped it with a bandage.
“…”
Watching him, she felt strange.
It was just medical treatment.
But feeling the firmness of his thigh muscles through her sole, she fidgeted her toes awkwardly.
To break the silence, she spoke.
“You’re good at this.”
Finishing the treatment, Cassius replied impassively, “On the battlefield, you can’t always get to the rear for medical care.”
A skill honed in real combat, it seemed.
“How many years were you on the battlefield?”
“Six.”
“The war with the Beimar Kingdom lasted six years…”
Counting on her fingers, she paused.
He’d been there from start to finish.
Six years was no small feat.
“…That must’ve been tough.”
How could “tough” capture what he’d endured on the battlefield?
“As an imperial knight, it was my—”
Cassius’s calm reply halted.
Having finished the treatment, he looked up, only to find his face a mere handspan from Rosalyn’s, who had leaned forward to watch.
The sudden eye contact made her freeze.
His blue eyes, once thought only cold, now felt like a deep, tranquil sea.
Cassius broke the gaze first.
“…Don’t overdo it. Rest in the infirmary today before heading back.”
His dark blue cape fluttered as he turned away.
Before she could respond, he left swiftly, and for once, Rosalyn couldn’t grumble.
The medic soon returned.
“Phew, it was just a graze. I’ll get you an ice pack for… Are you running a fever?”
Wiping sweat, the medic asked in surprise.
Rosalyn’s face was flushed.
“N-No. Just the ice pack, please.”
She stammered in embarrassment.
But the medic was a professional.
“If it’s a fever, you need medicine…”
“It’s not a fever! It’s just… flushing! I’m flushed!”
Rosalyn’s desperate shout echoed down the infirmary corridor.
