Chapter 25
“I don’t really feel the cold that much, and besides, no one around me ever did things like this.”
“I see.”
I replied, though I couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for him.
The older you get, the less you wear knitted clothes—those are mostly for children.
So, in Dante’s case, did that mean he never had anyone who would knit him something even as a child?
‘Whether they thought such clothes didn’t suit the future duke, or because he grew up in an unfeeling environment—either way, that’s sad.’
I couldn’t help but frown with sympathy.
While I was feeling sentimental about his childhood, Dante seemed purely curious—he had probably just never seen a knitted doll before.
He withdrew his hand neatly and asked,
“Do you like knitting too? Does it take less time than embroidery?”
“It’s hard to say which one takes more time or effort.
I just like making things with my hands, no matter what it is.
And honestly, the longer it takes, the more rewarding it feels in the end, right?”
“Rewarding, huh…”
Dante muttered as he rubbed his chin.
“I suppose that’s like when I practice swordsmanship.”
“I find swordsmanship even more amazing!
It’s something you do outdoors, after all. You have to move your whole body.”
I imagined his calloused hands.
How many hours of training must it have taken for his palms to grow that hard and rough?
But Dante shuddered and shook his head.
“I can’t imagine sitting still like that.
Honestly, even in the carriage earlier, I was itching to move. I could hardly stay put.”
“Ha-ha, really?”
He didn’t seem like the kind of man who’d endure sitting in a carriage if he truly hated it.
‘He’s probably just saying that to make me feel better.’
I nodded with a small smile.
“You’re right. Everyone’s just a little different.”
In any case, the wound just needed to be cleaned.
The socks were already torn and bloodstained beyond repair, so I used them to wipe away the blood and stood up.
That’s when Dante, who had been watching me with his arms crossed, spoke.
“Are you interested in swordsmanship?”
“Well, I can’t say I was interested before. But now that I’m out here, I keep feeling so powerless… I’d like to learn.”
It didn’t necessarily have to be swordsmanship—but I did feel the need to strengthen myself somehow.
Earlier, the coachman hadn’t let me fetch water, likely thinking I wouldn’t be able to carry it back anyway.
Smiling, I complimented Dante’s hands.
“Your hands are so rough from all that sword practice, right? That’s amazing.”
“……”
I expected him to brush it off, but instead, Dante pressed his lips together and said nothing.
Was it just my imagination, or did the tips of his ears turn slightly red?
Tilting my head, I asked,
“My lord?”
“You’re… too kind, my lady.”
“Pardon?”
Before I could even process his words, Dante turned abruptly away.
As I blinked in confusion, Pepe—who was sitting beside me—grumbled in a cranky tone,
“Let him be. Whether he suffers or dies, it’s his problem.”
And just then—
“Huh?!”
When I gently pressed Pepe’s head, meaning to quiet him, his little body wobbled—and fell splash into the water!
The current was fast, and in an instant, the small creature was swept far downstream.
I screamed and nearly jumped in.
“Pepe!”
“It’s dangerous!”
Dante caught me firmly around the waist before I could dive in.
I struggled against his arms, shouting,
“But I have to save him! Pepe’s my only friend!”
“A doll isn’t—”
“That doll was made by my mother!”
“What?”
At the mention of her, Dante’s whole body stiffened.
“…I’ll go.”
“My lord?”
Pushing me gently toward the riverbank, Dante unbuckled his sword and shrugged off his outer coat with a clatter.
“You said earlier you wanted to train your body, right?
Then do that next time before trying to jump in.
For now, I’ll bring back that baby dragon.”
“I… but…”
I was the one who dropped him.
Guilt hit me hard, draining all the color from my face.
Sensing my turmoil, Dante gave a small, crooked smile.
“If you really feel that sorry—then teach me how to knit.”
“What?”
“When I bring back the baby dragon, teach me how to knit as payment.”
“O-okay! I promise!”
At my quick reply, he chuckled softly.
Then, without hesitation, he leapt into the rushing water below.
I clasped my hands together and squeezed my eyes shut.
‘Please, come back safely…’
Dante’s crimson eyes deepened as he followed the small knitted doll downstream.
Evon’s sharp voice echoed in his mind.
〈That doll was made by my mother!〉
That trembling voice, her shaking hands, the way her small body quivered—it all played vividly in his head.
‘She said she has no family, no memories.’
And yet she had kept something—a memento of her mother.
‘So she held onto her mother’s keepsake after all. But… a knitted dragon?’
If this had been some naive noble lady from the eastern province, it wouldn’t mean much.
But Evon’s mother was a fairy—a true fairy who could wield real magic.
A knitted doll left behind by a fairy could hardly be an ordinary object.
‘So she really does enchant things with thread…?’
Dante had seen her once, drunk, weaving magic into her needlework.
It made him wary—especially since that doll was supposedly from a mother she didn’t even remember.
Could she have lied?
And if so, how much of what she’d said was false?
‘…Still, she can’t use large-scale magic. She’s never been taught, after all.’
Doubt and unease crept over him, but even so, Dante forced himself to push those thoughts away.
He didn’t want to believe that the bright smile she’d shown him—her laughter, her warmth—had all been lies.
‘For now, I’ll just keep watching.’
That was what he told himself—but the thought only made him sigh heavily.
‘…And what good will that do?’
The one who had ordered Dante to bring her back was none other than the crown prince, Bentley.
And Evon was Bentley’s greatest rival for succession.
Bentley would surely try to eliminate her to remove any threat to his claim.
‘If he doesn’t kill her, then there’s only one other option—marriage.’
That would be the better choice, for both of them.
Bentley could strengthen his weak claim as the descendant of a usurper, and Evon would become empress.
As a ruler or a husband, Bentley was—objectively speaking—a suitable man.
So why did the thought leave such a bitter taste?
〈Your hands are rough from sword training, right? That’s amazing.〉
“……”
If he was worried about her dying, he could just persuade Bentley to marry her.
But strangely, he didn’t want to.
All he could think about was her smile, her voice.
‘It’s the first time… anyone’s said something like that to me.’
He looked down, flexing his calloused hands.
They were the hands of a man who had gripped a sword since childhood.
‘But no one ever said they were admirable. Not even… her.’
He, too, had once almost been engaged—to a woman with beautiful golden hair and a radiant, confident smile.
〈Must you, as a duke, always fight on the front lines?〉
〈You’re the only heir of the ducal line. Don’t go to such dangerous places.〉
That woman was Princess Vivian, the younger sister of Crown Prince Bentley.
It hadn’t been a passionate love, but she had made him feel stable—elegant, sociable, the perfect candidate for duchess, and a legitimate imperial princess to boot.
Even the emperor had smiled as he encouraged their match.
〈Why not marry, Duke? I’d like to see Vivian settled soon.〉
If not for that one overheard conversation, he might have gone through with it.
At the time, he had been seriously considering proposing—until, on his way to see Vivian, he accidentally overheard her speaking with the emperor.
With that same sweet, familiar voice, she had said:
〈Taking lives is something only the lowborn do. The duke should really retire from the front lines. He’ll be my husband soon, after all.〉
The words were so sharp, so contemptuous, that he could barely believe they came from her—
the woman who had always pretended to worry about him.
The emperor had chuckled lightly in response.
〈If that happens and the ducal title is reclaimed, it’ll still benefit us, won’t it?〉
There were no other heirs in the House of Duke Christopher.
If Dante were to die in battle, his title and lands would revert to the crown.
The emperor, who had always smiled and praised him for his service, and Vivian, who had pretended affection—
they had both been scheming behind his back.
That realization had shattered something deep inside him.
