Chapter 4
A subtle twitch ran across Mity’s eyes and the corner of her mouth quivered.
What did that man just say?
A clear provocation, and her inner nature—the side that her mother had tried to keep in check—wanted to burst forth. She clenched her teeth tightly to suppress a string of curses.
No. Minachelty is timid. Even when wronged, she can’t utter a word. I can’t let myself fall into that trap.
“Oh, so you’re referring to the rumors that I’m an easy woman?”
Even with her teeth clenched, her effort wasn’t enough to fully control her instincts. Her tone carried a sharp edge, yet Baron Kirhoff maintained an unshaken smile.
“If I had known you were such a proud woman, I would have approached more cautiously.”
“You must have thought I was easy based only on the rumors. You’re surprisingly gullible compared to what I’d heard.”
The baron shifted his upper body toward her. The stiffly pressed fabric of his suit creaked as it twisted near her ears.
Their gazes collided. Kirhoff’s eyes, cold and unyielding, clamped down on hers like steel—but still, he smiled in that teasing, oscillating way.
“You seem to think smoke exists without fire.”
“In that case, make sure you know who started the fire.”
Kirhoff let out a low, smooth laugh at her retort. His sleek smile was infuriatingly charming.
“Do I displease you?”
He murmured quietly. Mity clenched her fists. Her heart raced, instincts pressing her to react. But she resisted, determined not to fall for his smile like Minachelty might.
It’s Minachelty who’d like that face, not me.
She forced herself to regain composure.
“I fail to see why you would think that.”
She offered a faint, neutral smile. Kirhoff, matching her deflection, broadened his own.
“Then I’m glad. I find you quite appealing.”
“You mean something else appeals to you, not me.”
“It would be nice if there’s something in my estate that could win your favor.”
Kirhoff smoothly ignored her pointed remark and resumed walking.
“Do you like jewelry?”
“Do you see me as a vain woman?”
“Then what do you like?”
“Guess.”
Mity, feigning pride, tried to put the baron in an awkward position. But he was far from an easy opponent.
“How about this?”
Without a trace of hesitation, he smiled fluidly, weaving through the conversation with serpentine grace.
“This is called a yanyedo, a weapon from the Eastern continent. Do you like things like this?”
He teased her lightly. On the wall, long polearms were arranged in crisscrossed patterns.
“Yanyedo?”
“Oh.”
The baron raised his eyebrows in mock surprise.
I underestimated him.
Mity immediately acknowledged her lapse. But she couldn’t help being drawn to the weapon—it was too unique. The elegant curve of the blade, the knot and crimson tassel at the end of the shaft, all unfamiliar to her eyes.
“You’re the first woman I’ve met who takes an interest in weapons.”
“Have many women come here to get this close?”
Mity’s retort was sharp, matching his teasing tone.
“Jealous?”
“No?”
“That’s a shame.”
Kirhoff shrugged ambiguously, dodging her jab. Feeling herself being led along by him, Mity furrowed her brow.
“Come closer to take a better look.”
Just as she prepared to retort, he stepped slightly aside, and she missed her timing. Mity glanced at his profile, then subtly moved to the spot he had been standing.
I’m just… looking.
Between the crisscrossed yanyedo blades, a short dagger lay horizontally.
“This sparkling ornament is made of mother-of-pearl.”
Noticing her gaze, Kirhoff offered the explanation. Mity felt a prick to her pride—her curiosity laid bare—but she still found the craftsmanship beautiful.
“Do you like it?”
“Excuse me?”
“If you like it, I can have one brought in the next shipment.”
Kirhoff let his eyes lower flirtatiously. Mity, caught in his charm, suddenly frowned.
“I can get it myself if I want it.”
“It’s a gift without ulterior motives.”
“I don’t believe in gifts without motives.”
She said this with playful haughtiness, turning back to examine the display.
The detailing is exquisite.
Her hand instinctively drifted toward the blade. Before she could touch it, Kirhoff caught her hand.
“You’ll get hurt.”
His voice dropped low, almost from above her head. Mity jumped and turned—he had moved silently from her side to behind her.
“Even though it looks decorative, the blade has been sharpened. It could easily sever a person’s neck.”
“….”
“Do not touch it—it’s dangerous.”
Mity blinked, realizing just how close he was. She was practically in his arms.
Too close.
“You’re thinking about other things, aren’t you?”
Kirhoff’s eyebrows twisted slightly, detecting the whirlwind in her mind. Mity’s face flushed scarlet as she faced him up close. Hastily, she stepped back.
“Why are you standing so close behind me?”
“Your face… it’s red.”
“And?”
“It’s… just so.”
Her sharp protest met a calm, teasing reply.
“I thought you might dislike me, but it seems that isn’t entirely the case. Good to know.”
He smiled wryly, mocking her. Mity pointed past his shoulder, hoping to redirect the conversation.
“What’s that?”
“You’re very good at changing the subject.”
Kirhoff, still holding the tail end of the conversation, followed her finger with his gaze.
“That is…”
For a moment, the smooth expression on his face crumpled.
So she even brought that out.
He muttered quickly, almost inaudibly. Mity, feeling the chill of his sudden aura, felt a shiver down her spine.
That must be his true nature.
Yet Kirhoff quickly composed himself, seemingly realizing she was near.
“Would you like to see it up close?”
He guided her. Nervously, she followed him toward the opposite wall.
When she saw it, her jaw dropped.
“Wow!”
Mounted on a stand was a sword. Its blade gleamed almost pure white, and finely set jewels adorned the handle with meticulous craftsmanship.
“That’s an amazing sword.”
Mity whispered, unable to look away. It truly was magnificent.
“It’s a treasured family sword, passed down through generations.”
The navy-blue scabbard bore traces of age like decorative patterns, and the flowing curves of the metal were mesmerizing.
“Normally, I don’t display it outside my room, but it seems Miss Errel accidentally brought it out. I’ll need to have it returned to storage later.”
Kirhoff carefully lifted the sword from the wall, handling it with meticulous care.
“Such a beautiful sword, yet it’s only on display. What a waste.”
Mity watched intently, whispering to herself. She couldn’t take her eyes off it.
I want to swing it.
Her instincts screamed for her to grasp the sword. It was almost as if the blade itself was inviting her to touch it.
“Would you like to try holding it?”
“Excuse me?”
Mity’s eyes widened, realizing she had once again spoken her thoughts aloud.
“You seem to truly admire it.”
“But you said it’s a family sword.”
“Just a brief touch is fine.”
Kirhoff smiled. He offered her the handle. For the first time, Mity was glad for his scheming. Her heart fluttered, and her fingers twitched with excitement.
Refusing a polite invitation wouldn’t be courteous.
Feigning demureness, she reached for the handle. The tightly wrapped leather felt soft in her palm, as if it had always belonged to her.
“Wow…”
Mity savored the moment, gripping the handle with both hands. Despite its solid appearance, the sword felt surprisingly light—she could swing it a thousand times without fatigue.
“This is incredible…”
She continued to admire it, drawing a light arc in the air with the tip. The sword cut through the air effortlessly.
“It truly is a fine sword. This blade…”
At that moment, the jewel on the handle flashed brilliantly. At the same time, a strong gust of wind surged through the gallery.
[Break into pieces.]
