Chapter 31
Late in the evening, Benedict visited Lucien’s room, barely able to lift his head, and delivered some news.
“A letter arrived today from the knight training academy.”
It contained the fact that a cadet had run away from the academy.
Usually, such incidents wouldn’t warrant a letter to the Duke. Even if the runaway cadet was a boy from the duchy, that alone wasn’t enough.
But this time was different.
“He’s…”
Benedict hesitated for a moment before finally confessing the truth.
“He’s the son of Sir Blackwood—the knight who died in the fire with your father.”
“Ah…”
Lucien let out a pained sigh.
Though she hadn’t known the names of the knights who had accompanied them, she remembered how kind and good they had been.
“And according to other cadets’ testimonies, Blackwood’s son tends to view the fire incident with… well, let’s say, a rather biased perspective.”
Though Benedict tried to beat around the bush, Lucien quickly got to the point.
“He thinks I’m the culprit, doesn’t he?”
She had received such suspicion countless times before, so it wasn’t anything new. But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.
“…Yeah.”
Benedict replied with difficulty and then added in frustration.
“I can’t believe someone training to be a knight doesn’t trust the royal investigation team’s findings! It’s outrageous!”
Lucien appreciated Benedict getting angry on her behalf, but she didn’t forget to point out the irony.
“You’re the same, Benedict—even though you’re a duke.”
“I just trust your testimony more because you were there. It’s a result of cold, rational logic.”
It sounded like an excuse, but also strangely convincing.
“Anyway, the point is, I think you need to be careful.”
There was no confirmation that Blackwood’s son was heading this way.
But since the academy had gone so far as to send a letter, and considering the boy’s usual behavior, it was highly likely.
“I’d prefer it if you stayed inside the mansion until he’s found.”
As he said this, Benedict glanced at Lucien, gauging her reaction. The traveling troupe was expected to arrive in the village within three days, after all.
“….”
When Lucien looked a bit downcast, he quickly added,
“O-of course, I’ll try to arrange it so you can still meet the troupe. You could go with some knights, maybe…”
“Don’t.”
Lucien had come to understand the knights’ pride while living here.
They considered themselves the sword and shield of the Duke, a role they valued more than their own lives—and were proud of.
If Benedict ordered them to escort and protect a girl from a mere traveling troupe, it might wound their sense of loyalty.
“But you want to meet them, don’t you? Should I call them here instead? That would work, right?”
“No.”
Servants came and went from here constantly.
If the troupe were summoned under the Duke’s name, rumors would spread quickly. Benedict would have to deal with the aftermath.
That’s why she had planned to quietly visit the troupe on her own…
“Ugh, don’t worry too much. I’ll find Blackwood.”
“How?”
“Well, I’ve already increased security. Thankfully, we have information about his appearance.”
He was described as a sixteen-year-old blond boy, unusually tall for his age.
“I told them to thoroughly check anyone who even remotely resembles him. He’ll be caught at the walls in no time.”
Benedict said this with confidence.
“Once that happens, you’ll be free to go meet Madame June.”
At that moment, they heard Alfie calling for Benedict from outside.
“So don’t worry too much and get some rest, okay?”
With that, he quickly left her room.
Meanwhile, Lucien stared curiously at the door he disappeared through and murmured to herself,
“But why does Benedict call June ‘Madame’?”
June was a sixteen-year-old boy.
A blond boy more beautiful than any woman she’d met.
‘Well, it doesn’t matter.’
She’d find out eventually, and whether June was male or female wasn’t important in the slightest.
The Next Day
‘I did it!’
Riding in a carriage speeding toward the city walls, Benedict clenched both fists in excitement.
He had only just received the letter from the academy and ordered increased security the day before.
But today, he got word: “We’ve captured a boy who fits the description.”
‘Lucien’s going to be so happy when she hears this!’
Not wanting the news to spread, Benedict chose an old, inconspicuous carriage to head to the wall.
It wouldn’t benefit anyone if word got out that Sir Blackwood’s son—highly respected in the duchy—had fled from the academy.
Sir Blackwood had been the son of a woodcutter and had risen to knighthood purely through his own merit. To the people, he was a symbol of success and hope—many still thought of him that way.
Benedict wanted to protect the honor tied to the name “Blackwood.”
After traveling half an hour down the straight road stretching from the mansion, he finally saw the towering gray city walls.
Passing through a small gate near the main one, Benedict jumped off the carriage and headed to the office.
As he entered, the guard seated furthest inside immediately stood up.
“Your Grace! We didn’t expect you so soon.”
“Sorry, I rushed. Next time I’ll send word ahead.”
“Goodness, there’s no need to apologize!”
Despite saying that, the guard looked pleased.
“Come any time. We’re your loyal shield, after all.”
Hmm. But if he kept doing this, he might make the kind-hearted guard’s eyes pop out, so perhaps it was best not to.
“So, where is the boy?”
“We’ve put him in the meeting room. But…”
The guard’s expression darkened.
“He claims he’s not Blackwood’s son.”
Could they have caught the wrong person?
That question naturally came to Benedict’s mind, but he refrained from voicing it out of respect for the guards’ pride.
“His physical features match. A beautiful blond boy.”
“Blond hair is rare, but not unique to Blackwood’s son. We need to be cautious.”
“Of course. But we didn’t apprehend him just because of that.”
“Then what?”
“He had smeared shoe polish through his hair to make it look darker. But even so, the dull gold still showed—and caught our attention.”
That was certainly suspicious.
“Blackwood left for the academy three years ago. Any soldiers here who might recognize him?”
“Unfortunately, none.”
“Then we’ll have to bring someone from the village.”
Benedict gave a subtle nod to a waiting soldier, who immediately left the office.
“Can I meet the boy?”
“Your Grace?!”
When Benedict nodded, the guard looked anxious.
“He’s quite defiant. I worry he might be rude to you…”
“It’s fine. I’m defiant and rude too.”
A little later, Benedict was led to the meeting room.
The room was surrounded by gray stone walls, with sunlight streaming in through small windows set at regular intervals.
At the far end sat a boy.
The light hit his hair, revealing unmistakable strands of golden blonde, just as the guard had said.
The word “beautiful” came to Benedict’s mind. Even in worn clothes, the boy’s beauty stood out.
But it wasn’t just the hair. His features had an uncanny allure.
When Benedict entered, the boy slowly stood up.
He was taller than expected—Benedict had to slightly lift his head to meet his gaze.
With the light casting shadows over his face, the word “boy” didn’t seem to fit anymore. “Young man” seemed more appropriate.
Was he really only sixteen?
Benedict found himself more concerned about the boy’s age than his identity. It was hard to believe they were only three years apart.
“Are you Blackwood?”
Benedict, oddly not wanting to lose, used a deliberately formal tone.
“I am not.”
The boy replied immediately, his voice calm despite his predicament.
“How dare you lie in the Duke’s presence! This is His Grace, Duke Winfield…!”
Benedict raised a hand to silence the guard, then looked back at the boy.
Most grown men cowered when captured by armed soldiers. But this boy lifted his chin, unbothered. It was intriguing.
“If you’re so innocent, why did you dye your hair? Were you trying to hide something?”
“Yes.”
The boy nodded as if it were obvious.
“To avoid attracting the eyes of noble lords.”
Huh? Benedict was puzzled.
Why would he want to avoid attention from nobles? People in the duchy were usually pleased when Benedict even glanced at them.
“Well, the pure-hearted Duke probably wouldn’t understand.”
I don’t.
But he could clearly tell the boy’s tone carried subtle mockery.
The guard flared up again.
“How dare you defile His Grace’s ears! Someone who knows you is on the way—once confirmed, you’ll be thrown into the dungeon!”
“Don’t get so worked up. If he’s not the one we’re looking for, we owe him an apology.”
“What?!”
The guard turned pale. He clearly didn’t want to imagine such a possibility.
“B-but I’m sure it’s him! He tried to sneak past the gate in disguise! And that’s not all!”
“What else?”
“He tried to sneak into the duchy disguised as a member of a traveling troupe. The troupe leader confirmed it!”
He used the troupe?
“…Who are you, really?”
Now Benedict’s gaze carried unmistakable hostility.
If this became widely known, it could tarnish the reputation of traveling troupes, and Lucien’s beloved “Madame June” might suffer for it.
“I am…”
For the first time, the boy bowed his head.
It wasn’t a noble’s bow, but it was graceful nonetheless.
Then, lifting his head, he said,
“My name is June, Your Grace Duke Winfield.”
