Chapter 22
‘He looks like a doll.’
Arnulf had once mistaken Sigmund’s gender because he was so delicate and pretty.
Among the academy students, there was even a rumor that Sigmund was actually a woman in disguise.
Since Sigmund was the famous Duke Valdeck’s son, no one dared to treat him carelessly—but he still seemed to attract all sorts of strange people around him.
At that time, Sigmund was neither particularly strong nor skilled with a sword, and so he often found himself caught up in unpleasant situations.
Arnulf had happened to rescue Sigmund a few times when he was being bullied, and from then on, the two of them began to spend time together.
Arnulf, especially, couldn’t help but feel protective whenever he saw Sigmund biting his lip in frustration or wearing a discouraged expression after suffering some injustice.
Of course, three years later, Sigmund had shot up in height and distinguished himself as a remarkably talented swordsman—eventually becoming every bit as skilled as Arnulf himself.
Still, because of the image Arnulf had from when they first met, whenever Sigmund made that same downcast expression, his heart would weaken without fail.
“Will it be difficult?”
The repeated question brought Arnulf back to his senses. He looked again at Sigmund standing before him.
The violet eyes watching him were cautious, as though gauging his feelings.
“…No, not really.”
Despite himself, Arnulf gave an answer that was almost an affirmation.
He couldn’t help it—he was weak against that expression of Sigmund’s.
“That’s a relief.”
Sigmund’s entire face brightened instantly, his smile blooming like a flower unfurling its petals.
Arnulf felt his heart pound, and unconsciously pressed a hand to his chest. It wasn’t his imagination—the rhythm beneath his palm was faster than usual.
What the hell is this?
Something felt off. This reaction wasn’t like him at all.
To think he’d be shaken just because Sigmund smiled at him—
Could it be because I’m in Josef’s body?
Yes, that would make sense. He knew better than anyone how long Josef had harbored feelings for Sigmund.
Even so, it didn’t explain everything. Arnulf chose to ignore the rest.
Because of that, he failed to notice that Sigmund’s gaze had shifted toward him—toward his unsettled expression and the hand still resting over his heart.
Though Sigmund’s face remained composed, his eyes trembled slightly, betraying his surprise. Arnulf looked so much like someone Sigmund used to know.
“Moving around has made me hungry.”
Sigmund spoke as he sheathed his sword, which had been lying on the ground.
Arnulf blinked. Now that he thought of it, it was indeed around lunchtime.
But had Sigmund meant that as an invitation to eat together?
“Then for lunch…”
Arnulf began tentatively—
“I’d like that.”
Sigmund answered before he could even finish the sentence.
Arnulf blinked in mild surprise before nodding.
“Let’s move to another place.”
Their meal was set up on a terrace overlooking the practice yard where they had just sparred.
Finn, arranging the dishes on the table, could hardly believe what he was seeing.
Never before had he seen Sigmund and Josef sitting together so peacefully.
Sure, Josef had often followed Sigmund around like a shadow—but the atmosphere had never been this calm.
Ah! Maybe Lord Sigmund likes Josef’s new personality now that he’s lost his memory?
The thought seemed reasonable enough.
Josef had changed so drastically that it was hard to even imagine his former self.
Even after only a few weeks together, Finn had noticed it all—the softer expressions, the gentler tone, the composed manner.
He’d even seen them meet once when Josef helped save an old man and child from some thugs on the way to the weapons shop.
Well, that explains it.
A smile touched Finn’s lips. It was a good thing the two were getting along now.
Once, he had begged Josef tearfully to stop following Sigmund—but things were different these days.
Watching the two eat together so comfortably, Finn waited until they seemed nearly finished before approaching.
“Shall I clear the table?”
“Yes, please.”
Arnulf nodded lightly, already setting down his spoon.
“Then I’ll bring dessert. Is there anything you’d like?”
Before Arnulf could reply that anything was fine, Sigmund spoke up suddenly.
“I’d like peach pie.”
Arnulf’s eyes flicked toward him.
Sigmund noticed and tilted his head. “What’s wrong?” he asked innocently.
“…Nothing.”
Had he imagined it? For some reason, hearing “peach pie” had felt oddly personal—like a jab aimed right at him.
Arnulf frowned slightly.
Then again, at the last social gathering, Sigmund had drunk peach-infused champagne without a care, so it wasn’t strange that he’d want the pie today too.
After all, it was peach season, and peach desserts were everywhere.
It’s fine. I’ll just not eat it.
He was just about to speak when Finn interrupted apologetically.
“I’m sorry, Lord Sigmund, but I don’t think we have any peach pie today.”
He bowed his head, explaining quickly,
“Lord Josef hasn’t been eating peaches lately, so we stopped buying them.”
Arnulf immediately glanced at Sigmund, worried he might take it the wrong way.
“I see.”
But Sigmund accepted it easily, without a hint of disappointment.
So I was mistaken after all.
Arnulf decided to drop the matter. There was no point overthinking it.
Usually, it was Sigmund who solved his problems for him—but not this time.
Instead of peach pie, Finn brought out the brownies Arnulf had recently taken a liking to.
The rich chocolate cake paired well with the mild tea.
A gentle breeze brushed past.
The sky was perfectly clear—no clouds, no noise, only the quiet of a lazy afternoon.
Arnulf had just lifted his teacup when Sigmund spoke.
“May I ask why you’ve been training so hard lately?”
“Well… actually…”
Arnulf hesitated. It felt like an odd thing for Josef to say, somehow out of character.
But since he was trying to turn over a new leaf, perhaps it fit after all.
“I’ve been thinking of teaching swordsmanship once I return to the duchy.”
He said it lightly, joking that he’d have to build strength and practice more first.
Sigmund looked at him quietly.
They had once talked about this—Arnulf had mused that once his duty to the crown was over, whether the First Prince or Prince Albrecht ascended the throne, he might settle down in the countryside and teach children how to wield a sword.
Back then, Sigmund had liked that version of Arnulf—the one who dreamed of a future instead of wallowing in apathy—and had even said he’d go with him.
And now, he was saying the same words again.
“Why are you smiling?”
Arnulf frowned slightly. Only then did Sigmund realize he’d been smiling.
“I know—it doesn’t suit me, right?” Arnulf added, half joking.
Sigmund shook his head.
“No. I just thought it was admirable—how you’re preparing so sincerely for the future. Will you open a fencing hall?”
“No, nothing that grand.”
“Then will you teach noble children privately?”
That was possible too. Arnulf shrugged instead of answering.
Would any noble child really want lessons from Josef—the man once called a scoundrel?
Especially since rumors still spread that Prince Arnulf’s death had something to do with him.
“In that case, you don’t necessarily have to return to the duchy.”
Somehow, those words sounded less like a comment and more like please don’t go.
Arnulf wondered if he was imagining things again as he looked at Sigmund’s faintly dimmed eyes.
“As you know,” he said, “after the unfortunate incident with Lord Arnulf, His Grace has been worried about me.”
Using family as an excuse, Sigmund fell silent.
But under the table, his fists were tightly clenched.
Yes, Arnulf knew.
He knew Sigmund wanted to leave.
Of course you’d be sick of it.
Even on the battlefield, where tension never eased, Sigmund couldn’t hide his weariness.
A life dictated by the queen—used and discarded at her whim.
Letting him go without saying anything would probably be the right thing to do.
Even Sigmund had once thought that leaving with Arnulf wouldn’t be so bad…
But that was after hearing the truth from him—after uncovering the truth behind his death.
“Still, until I leave, I’d like to continue sparring with you, Lord Sigmund.”
Arnulf smiled lightly, unaware of Sigmund’s deeper thoughts.
A small request like that should be fine.
Besides, training alone had its limits—and something in Sigmund’s melancholy eyes made him want to offer comfort.
“Very well,” Sigmund said. “Then if I come bother you every day, you’ll have to face me properly.”
Arnulf nodded quietly.
No—Sigmund wasn’t going to let him go just yet.
There were still words he needed to hear.
From that man’s own lips—
the truth of who he really was.
