LUW 39

Chapter 39

Cecilia slowly opened her eyes.

As the focus returned to her blinking gaze, her eyes widened in an instant.

“The real culprit!”

She shouted and abruptly sat up. As she put strength into her lower body, a sharp pain surged through her.

“Ugh.”

Cecilia looked down at her thigh. Lifting the blanket and the hem of her long clothes, she saw her thigh wrapped in bandages.

The wound inflicted by the assassin had been treated. Only then did Cecilia recall that after a fierce struggle, the assassin had fled, and she had lost consciousness.

For some reason, in that last moment, she had seen Pierre — someone who shouldn’t have been there. Her final memory was of him catching her falling waist.

Only then did Cecilia realize that the room she was lying in was her own in the Grand Duke’s estate.

“So he was there.”

She murmured to herself — just as the door opened.

A maid carrying a basin with a wet towel gasped when she saw Cecilia sitting up and immediately ran out calling for someone.

Before long, Pierre arrived with a physician. Standing with his arms crossed behind the physician, he watched the examination in silence. The physician took her temperature and asked about her condition.

“Are you feeling dizzy or nauseous?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“The wound on your thigh isn’t too deep, but since you’re quite active, you must be cautious until it heals completely.”

“I will.”

Even as Cecilia responded, she felt the intensity of Pierre’s gaze piercing into her, making her cheek tingle. Once the physician left, Pierre sat down in a chair beside the bed.

Feeling awkward, Cecilia gave a sheepish smile.

“I thought you were waiting entirely at the estate. I went around poking into things by myself without even knowing…”

“I only deployed people in case of emergency. When I saw that someone had entered the workshop, I joined in.”

Pierre let out a low sigh as he looked at her.

“The way you so casually admit to going around alone… you must’ve expected a scolding? I’m quite sure I told you not to overdo it.”

Seeing Pierre’s eyes turn cold as he reprimanded her, Cecilia gave an awkward laugh.

“I’m sorry. Because of me, things got messier…”

But Pierre frowned slightly at that and cut her off.

“You almost died.”

“…What?”

“Cecilia, do you have three lives or something?”

Cecilia widened her eyes and replied.

“No, I only have one…”

“Good. At least you know that much.”

Cecilia was about to retort, asking if he thought she was some kind of fool, but Pierre spoke firmly.

“If you misunderstood my warning not to overdo it, let me clarify. I meant, above all else, put your life first.”

“……”

Pierre’s eyes were deadly serious. Only then did Cecilia realize there was something different in his words. The Pierre she had come to know was cold, rational — someone determined to uncover the truth behind the firearm incidents.

So, she had assumed his warning not to overdo it meant not to interfere or mess up the investigation. But he had meant for her to protect her life first.

It was a natural thing to say, and yet, coming from Pierre, it made her chest feel oddly ticklish.

As Cecilia struggled with what to say, Pierre looked away and muttered,

“I don’t want any more casualties during my operations.”

“…That’s my line, actually.”

Cecilia mumbled, flustered, then suddenly remembered the back of the assassin as he fled.

“Come to think of it — what happened to the assassin? Did you catch him?”

“Honik chased him, but he got away.”

That only reinforced Cecilia’s belief that the man was no ordinary mercenary.

“Makes sense. He didn’t seem like a normal person.”

Pierre raised an eyebrow and asked,

“Did something occur to you?”

“Just a hunch. But from the pattern of the firearm incidents, it seemed like the real culprit is skilled at covering their tracks — treating people like parts of a machine.”

Cecilia recalled the moment she had crossed swords with the assassin.

“Even with the arsonist, if that man was sent by the culprit, I thought they had just hired another mercenary. But his skills were too refined for someone just paid to set a fire.”

The man in black had revealed only his eyes.

But even just from those eyes, Cecilia could tell — he was not ordinary.

“That was the sword of someone who’s trained for a very long time. Like someone who wields a blade to survive.”

“…And how would you know that?”

Pierre looked at Cecilia’s eyes, filled with certainty, and asked. Cecilia fell silent.

She had no proof. But she knew it the moment their swords met — because she had seen someone else with that kind of swordsmanship.

From a young age, the only one who had ever sparred with her was Leo.

Cecilia had inherited the blood of Niberius, giving her natural athleticism, and she had quickly improved in swordsmanship with every lesson.

Even so, she had never once beaten Leo.

She’d sulked about it for a while, and then Leo had said something to her:

“I’m done. I won’t take sword lessons anymore. I always lose to you anyway.”

“…You and I are different. Don’t use me as your standard. You’re already amazing.”

Leo, clearly flustered, gave her his clumsy, familiar reassurance. But Cecilia had fixated on that one word: “different.”

“We’ve been taught the same. What’s different?”

Leo had turned his head away and grumbled, “You’re such an idiot…” Then he paced nervously around her before finally whispering,

“…This is just between the two of us. Promise you’ll keep it a secret?”

Looking like a puppy afraid of being abandoned, he asked for her promise.

His red eyes, peeking through his black hair, glimmered like gemstones. Cecilia, as a child, felt thrilled by the idea of a secret between just the two of them and nodded.

Even after getting her promise, Leo had hesitated a long time before finally saying,

“I’ve been learning to fight with a sword since even before I could feed myself.”

“Before now? You mean before you came to the estate?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

The answer was simple.

“To survive.”

Looking back, Leo had been under ten years old before he came to the estate. The fact that a child like that had to wield a sword to survive…

Cecilia felt a pang in her heart, but she also understood what kind of feeling came from the swords of people like that.

And that’s what she had sensed from the assassin.

Still, she saw no need to bring up Leo while talking about the killer’s assassin. Besides, the last time she saw the two of them together, they seemed like complete opposites.

After a brief pause, she deflected smoothly.

“It’s just intuition. I am, after all, the eldest daughter of a mercenary family. I’ve seen all sorts of sword styles.”

She answered with a smug look, and Pierre shook his head with a small smile. Cecilia stretched and said,

“Lying down for so long is making me sore. Can I go for a walk?”

Just as she was about to get up, Pierre responded.

“Before that, there’s something you need to see.”

“…Something I need to see?”

* * *

What Pierre handed her was the Imperial newspaper. The headline on the front page read in large letters:

[Exclusive: Fire at Zilgurk Border Marquess Workshop. The culprit — a Lady?]

The assassin was a woman?

Cecilia’s eyes widened as she read further. Although her name and her family’s name weren’t mentioned, the article clearly referred to her in a way that anyone familiar would understand.

She lowered the paper with an incredulous expression and asked Pierre, who sat across from her:

“What is this nonsense supposed to be?”