Chapter 8 –
“…Are you being serious?”
Reinhardt looked at her suspiciously. Irene felt a twinge of guilt.
The part about him being handsome was true—but saying he was her type was a lie.
Her actual type was someone massive and solid, someone who could withstand even her fists.
By contrast, Reinhardt was a pretty boy—someone who triggered her protective instincts rather than romantic ones.
In other words, he looked like he’d collapse with a flick of her hand.
Still, she couldn’t take it back now.
‘I’ll stick with it.’
A knight stands by their convictions.
“Your Highness is the most handsome person I’ve ever seen.”
It wasn’t entirely a lie, so she spoke without hesitation.
Even Kim Taeheon had often shown jealousy toward Reinhardt.
Though he lacked wit and ability, the biggest gap between them was appearance.
Anyone could see that Lloyd and Reinhardt were leagues apart when it came to looks.
That’s why Taeheon used to soothe his inferiority complex by stealing the girls Reinhardt showed interest in.
‘And I followed a man like that as my lord…’
Irene suddenly wanted to bury her face in a plate and die.
Reinhardt, confused by her now oddly grim expression, began to feel unsettled.
Plenty of noble ladies had confessed their admiration for him.
Even when they pretended to be confident, their shyness always seeped through.
But this girl—declaring her feelings with a face like that?
‘…Does she expect me to believe that?’
Deciding he had no reason to stay any longer, Reinhardt hastily excused himself.
It almost looked like he was fleeing from a lunatic.
Even so, Irene didn’t stop him as he walked away.
Pushing further would only make things worse.
‘Winning a boy’s favor is harder than I thought.’
Then again, gaining people’s affection had never been easy for her.
It wasn’t a surprise, but it still stung that even after speaking so plainly, she was brushed off.
Her mouth felt dry.
“There’s got to be a way…”
She fell into thought again.
“I swear, she’s driving me insane!”
Dietrich fumed, furious. That crow girl had changed.
She acted like she didn’t care whether she was looked down on, even boldly sharing meals at the main table.
He’d thought everything would go back to normal once his father and brother returned—but she continued to eat with them as if nothing mattered.
Was she clueless about how awkward she made the meals—or just shamelessly pretending?
Judging by her behavior, the latter seemed more likely.
Which only made Dietrich angrier.
‘She has the audacity to act like she’s one of the family? Doesn’t even know her place!’
He clenched his fists.
“Because of her…”
He was miserable.
He didn’t remember it—he was just a baby eight years ago—but a girl about two years old had been abandoned at the gates of the Lykaon estate.
That girl was Irene Lykaon.
The then-Duchess had found her and taken her in, and the whole household had been thrown into chaos.
A year later, the Duchess died of a plague.
When Dietrich was five, his nurse had whispered quietly to him:
“Young master, the madam didn’t die from a plague.”
She had been close friends with the Duchess and revealed a secret:
“Then…?”
“It was all because of that crow.”
At last, the reason for his loneliness was clear.
That crow girl had taken his mother from him.
“But I’m on your side.”
That nurse had since left the estate for personal reasons.
Dietrich was now truly alone.
“You think I’ll just let this slide?”
If he was miserable, then she should be even more so.
Recalling the battle between Chloe and Irene, a wicked smile crept onto Dietrich’s lips.
“My sister’s too soft for her own good.”
Chloe always blamed herself after a fight.
But not Dietrich.
An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth.
Irene deserved the same treatment.
Late at night, returning from training, Irene reached for her doorknob—then paused.
‘Someone’s inside.’
Who could it be?
At this hour, there was only one kind of uninvited guest she could imagine.
An assassin.
‘…No, probably not.’
Even if the Lykaon family treated her like a nuisance, they’d never sent an assassin after her.
‘They’ve even come to rescue me before.’
Truly a strange family, the more she thought about it.
She eased her suspicion slightly and opened the door.
Seeing who was inside, she tilted her head.
“Chloe?”
“You were gone forever. Said you went to train.”
Moonlight streamed through the bars and shimmered over the girl’s silvery hair.
Chloe sat gracefully in an old chair in the corner, fanning herself.
Irene noticed it was the wrist Chloe had injured in their last fight.
‘It must be healed.’
She had felt guilty about that injury, so it was a relief.
“What are you doing here at this hour?”
“Are you really going to attend the lessons?”
“Yeah.”
They had agreed that if Irene won their duel, she could attend Chloe’s etiquette classes. Irene nodded as if it were obvious.
Chloe raised her chin haughtily.
“They’re way beyond your level.”
“Sure. So what’s your point?”
Irene knew Chloe hadn’t come all this way just to say that.
Slightly annoyed at being read so easily, Chloe frowned and snapped her fan shut.
“Dietrich went to the armory.”
Immediately, Irene understood what she meant.
So he hadn’t been joking about making her pay. He was planning something.
“I think he’s pulling a little prank.”
Chloe gently touched the corner of her fan.
Irene nodded in understanding.
‘He tampered with my wooden sword.’
She stared at Chloe.
‘But why is she telling me this?’
Sensing Irene’s puzzled gaze, Chloe stood and reopened her fan.
“Now my debt is repaid.”
“…Ah.”
With that, Chloe left without hesitation.
Watching her go, Irene tilted her head.
‘Did she really wait all that time just to say that?’
No, it was more likely that she just happened to run into her and decided to mention it.
Now alone in the room, Irene looked out the window, her expression heavy.
More pressing than some child’s mischief was the matter of improving her relationship with the prince.
‘Wait a minute.’
Before she knew it, night had fallen.
As if on cue, a snowstorm had started to howl.
‘I’m ten this year.’
She remembered.
Something had happened in Lykaon during the winter she turned ten.
Her red eyes gleamed with realization.
She might have just found a solution.
The Next Morning
A snowstorm had hit during the early hours, transforming the land into a winter wonderland overnight.
Feeling the unusual chill, Irene woke up earlier than usual and headed to the training grounds.
In the corner stood Erica, her nose red from the cold, warm breath fogging the air as she wore a fox-fur hat.
When she saw Irene, she greeted her with a composed air, pretending not to feel the cold at all.
“Good morning, my lady. We meet again.”
She took off her own hat and placed it on Irene’s head.
Startled, Irene touched the hat and asked, “What about you?”
“I’m warm enough after training. It’s actually too hot for me now.”
‘Liar.’
She’d just been shivering. But instead of calling her out and wounding her pride, Irene simply nodded.
“Thank you.”
“Not at all. It’s nothing compared to what you’ve done for me.”
Erica smiled sheepishly. Feeling oddly awkward, Irene didn’t respond and instead picked up her wooden sword.
Recalling Chloe’s warning from the night before, she examined the sword carefully.
‘He switched it out.’
As expected of a child’s prank—it was clumsily done.
A quick glance revealed a small crack at the center of the blade.
“My lady, I think there’s something wrong with that sword. I’ll get you another—”
“No need.”
Irene shook her head.
“…Huh?”
Erica looked confused, but Irene silently continued her horizontal slashes.
“Ooooh!”
A chorus of impressed gasps echoed from afar.
Turning her head, she saw a crowd of knights gathered, watching a duel between Reinhardt and Mikhail.
