MDIHC 37

〈037〉

“Do you think you’ll get away with doing this to me?”

Soaking wet and trembling with rage, the Countess of Aitley glared at me.

“Yes. I think I’ll get away with it just fine.”

I casually responded, and the Countess’s eyes flared up even more.

“What are you doing? Why haven’t you dragged this rude woman out yet?”

The moment was thrilling, sure—but splashing cold water on a hostess in her own drawing room was not a thrill that could be sustained for long. As expected, the guards stationed in the room immediately rushed forward at the Countess’s command.

“Let go of me!”

Soon, I was seized by both arms like some villain being thrown out, and I screamed—an almost instinctive reaction.

But the guards paid no attention to my screams or my attempts to shake them off. Instead, they gripped my arms tighter and began dragging me toward the door.

My wrists throbbed, and I nearly twisted my ankle as I stumbled forward under their force. Just as tears welled up from the pain of their grip—

Bang!

The drawing room door suddenly burst open with such force it seemed like it would break.

Naturally, everyone turned to look at the source of the noise. And standing there, calm and expressionless in the doorway of the Aitley drawing room, was—

“L-Lord Winchester?”

He stood there, gazing coldly into the room. The clear footprint left on the door showed that he had literally kicked it open.

Everyone was shocked, everyone was confused—except for one person.

Only Lord Winchester remained calm.

He faced the stunned stares with indifference and, quietly and composedly, drew his sword.

…Wait, what? He drew his sword? In someone else’s drawing room? Just like that?

His movement was so smooth, and his expression so unchanged, that I didn’t even notice at first.

Was there no in-between with this man?

“Let go.”

He acted first, then spoke. And even then, he only said a single word. Quietly and calmly.

No further explanation was needed. The only thing being held in this room was me, and what he meant to be released was my body.

“Lord Winchester.”

As the guards hesitated, nervously glancing at the Countess, she stepped forward. Her voice quivered slightly—clearly, even she was rattled.

And understandably so—another nobleman had just barged into her drawing room and drawn his sword. On top of that, that man happened to be a Sword Master.

“….”

But Lord Winchester didn’t even acknowledge her. His gaze remained locked on the guards holding me, his sword still aimed at them.

“Let go.”

He repeated himself in the same calm tone.

“!”

“!!”

No. It wasn’t calm.

At the same time he spoke, something surged from within him. His icy blue eyes glowed even brighter, and his hair, which had been neatly still, stirred as though caught in a hot wind.

Killing intent. Or sword aura.

Even I, who knew nothing of swordsmanship, could sense that something immense had just been unleashed.

So of course, the guards—who were at least trained in swordsmanship, even if not on his level—couldn’t not feel it. The strength in their grips faded, and I felt them start to tremble.

“Take your hands off my wife. Now.”

A low, final warning. No more would be given. He didn’t say it outright, but everyone knew: if they didn’t comply, the next step would be force.

And they also knew exactly who would win.

“W-we’ve let go!”

“Letting her go now!”

Though they’d already loosened their grip, the guards frantically raised their hands as if surrendering. Orders might be important—but not more important than one’s life.

Ah… it’s gone now.

I could instantly tell the ominous energy that had swirled around Lord Winchester like heat haze had vanished. The oppressive weight in the air had lifted.

“My lady.”

Sliding his sword back into its sheath with ease, Lord Winchester called me by a title I still wasn’t quite used to.

“Ah, yes!”

I hurried to his side. Facing the stunned guards and the fuming Countess on the opposite side of the room, I couldn’t help but square my shoulders with a little pride.

Hmph! See? What did I say? My husband’s the strongest, isn’t he?

“Oh! We need to bring Mr. Reynold with us.”

Just as I was about to leave the room with Lord Winchester, I remembered why I had come here in the first place.

“Mr. Reynold isn’t going anywhere!”

The Countess shouted, as if determined to prevent that at all costs—even if she had to let me go.

“Why not?”

I asked her innocently.

“Didn’t you just say earlier that you hadn’t kidnapped Mr. Reynold?”

“Of course I didn’t!”

“Then we should ask Mr. Reynold himself. Whether he wants to stay, leave, or never come back again.”

“….”

The Countess bit her lip and stared at me. I met her gaze confidently.

Hmph! My husband’s here now. I’m not scared of you anymore.

“Darling?”

I turned to Lord Winchester and called out. Though we had agreed on the term, it was the first time I had actually called him “darling” since that day. Until now, I had simply avoided calling him anything at all.

I felt him turn toward me, ever so slightly stiff, clearly caught off guard by the word. His eyes showed a flicker of surprise—but that wasn’t important right now.

What was important was that the Countess was watching us, and this was the perfect moment to assert dominance.

I boldly slipped my arm through Lord Winchester’s and locked it in place—clearly signaling that I had a strong, dependable husband right beside me.

And hopefully, it was also incredibly annoying to her.

“Darling, what would the Order of Knights, sworn to protect the weak, do if they found out about the kidnapping of a lady?”

“They would, of course, rescue her.”

So reliable! We hadn’t rehearsed this, but it was like we had. I asked the question knowing that upright, principled Lord Winchester would answer exactly like that.

“Hear that?”

I turned to the Countess with a radiant smile.

Hmph! Bet your household doesn’t have a man like this!

“….”

Unless my ears were deceiving me, I was sure I heard the Countess grinding her teeth. Dentistry didn’t seem very advanced in this world, so I genuinely hoped her tooth cracked right then.

“Fine. I’ll bring Mr. Reynold.”

She finally said, utterly reluctant. She signaled to her servants.

Clearly, she hadn’t anticipated things turning out like this. She might have expected me to charge in, and even planned how to handle that—but she definitely hadn’t expected Lord Winchester to come storming in.

Even I hadn’t expected that.

“Lady Winchester!”

A familiar voice called out. I turned to see Mr. Reynold walking toward us, looking disheveled. His always-neat hair was mussed, and his clothes were wrinkled—as though he had struggled fiercely.

And most telling of all, there was a small, clear footprint stamped right in the middle of his tidy dress shirt.

“Where do you think you’re going? Want your leg broken again?!”

From somewhere behind, the owner of that footprint shouted furiously.