MLWBH 21

After all, whenever those around him asked Dante about the truth of the rumors, he only gave a bitter denial.

‘Well. It’s not as if the Count would care about my answer to that question anyway.’

That was how he had brushed off Liam’s question as well.

The statement contained nothing but plain facts, and Liam had finally fallen silent at that point.

Still, from the way Liam seemed to measure him with his gaze—and from the very question he had asked—Dante could more than guess what Liam Hawthorne was thinking when he behaved like that.

And frankly, it wasn’t surprising.

Even back at the Academy, nine out of ten of his peers had admired, adored, or harbored feelings for Terry Romance.

So this was nothing new.

There was only one thing that bothered him.

‘The Count attended Sir Liam’s appointment ceremony as Commander.’

A sponsor and the sponsored, was it?

Terry—who had boldly declared he wouldn’t even attend the Crown Prince’s appointment ceremony—had been there, smiling warmly and applauding.

‘What kind of relationship do they have?’

The question rose in Dante’s mind, and he let out a hollow laugh at himself.

This was undeniable. He was clearly someone with personal feelings for Terry Romance.

Otherwise, why would he be this conscious of it?

“So, what brings you here?”

“…There’s a magical artifact I’d like you to examine.”

Only after they reached a secluded place did Dante quietly speak.

From his coat, he took out a small charm made of cloth.

“This is the artifact?”

Terry raised one eyebrow as she looked at it.

“You don’t see these much these days.”

“I didn’t know the Count kept up with market trends.”

“Your Highness, I am Terry Romance.”

“…Right. My slip of the tongue.”

“What kind of spell is placed on it?”

“I’m told it increases the affection others feel toward the person carrying it.”

“Ah.”

Terry clapped her hands as if she’d realized something.

“Oh, I know this one now. How romantic!”

Dante, in contrast, looked somewhat uncomfortable.

“That’s… your intuition is… sharp.”

“…Isn’t it?”

Now Terry looked serious instead.

“When you say affection, it usually means romance. In I Want Your Heart, the heroine even uses a love potion.”

“I Want Your Heart… what? You read things like that, Count?”

“You don’t know it? It ranked first for Best Male Lead among young women in the Feltra Kingdom.”

“I fail to see what that has to do with this, but fine.”

Rolling the charm once in her palm, Terry muttered,

“I don’t see anything particularly suspicious.”

“You’ve already checked it?”

“I am Terry Romance.”

She gave a short laugh.

“And I’ve studied dark magic for a long time.”

After her niece had been taken by a dark mage.

Dante sensed the unspoken part and fell silent for a moment.

“But if Your Highness went so far as to seek me out in private over mere suspicion, then there must be a valid reason.”

“…I have no concrete evidence. Only a hunch.”

“Sometimes those uneasy feelings are the most effective clues. What kind of suspicion?”

“First, it’s not that extraordinary an ability, yet it’s gained explosive popularity.”

Dante paused, recalling the face of the merchant who had sold the charm.

How should he describe the atmosphere surrounding that man?

“…Second, it’s the merchant.”

It was difficult to simply say, “The man selling it felt suspicious.”

But that was all he had.

All Dante had felt at the time was a sense of discord.

“The merchant?”

Dante pressed his lips together and rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a slow sigh.

“I’m sorry. It’s hard to explain.”

“You must have sensed something like a dark mage.”

At Terry’s calm voice, Dante nodded.

“There’s no clear proof, but…”

“Your Highness is sensitive to others’ mana. I wouldn’t say your instinct lacks credibility.”

Terry adjusted her grip on the charm and looked up at him.

“I’ll look into it.”

“Are you sure?”

Dante asked, a note of concern in his voice.

“I didn’t mean to burden you with more work. It’s just that you’re the most knowledgeable in this field, so I hurried to seek your advice.”

“It’s only natural to be concerned about an artifact that affects emotions.”

Terry sounded willing.

“With no hard evidence, it would be difficult to launch a formal investigation or take action. Who else would you ask but me?”

Dante gazed at her.

More precisely, at the space just behind her head.

Was there a halo shining somewhere back there?

“Mom always dotes on you. Moments like this remind me why…”

“Only moments like this?”

She smiled again.

Only then did Dante’s somewhat stiff expression finally soften.

“That’s all I needed. You’ve worked hard on this campaign. Return to your estate and get some rest.”

“Thank you.”

After the customary exchange, Terry turned to leave without delay.

Just as she was about to pass him, Dante suddenly turned and called out urgently.

“Count.”

“Yes?”

The call had been impulsive.

Dante parted his lips, trying to conceal his faint anxiety.

“…Do you have any prior engagements during the Spring Festival?”

For some reason, his mouth felt dry.

Using “romantic lessons” as an excuse felt awkward.

Terry Romance had just returned from a grueling campaign and had taken on a new assignment—not to mention the small errand Dante had just handed her.

To suggest resuming romantic lessons on top of that pricked his conscience.

With every possible excuse stripped away, what remained was nothing but Dante’s own proposal.

No matter how one looked at it, it was clearly personal.

Feeling as though he had lost every means of hiding himself, Dante watched her.

“I don’t.”

Terry blinked.

“Do you intend to participate in the Spring Festival?”

“That I do.”

Her tone was easygoing.

“It’s one of the biggest events in the Feltra Kingdom. I know how to enjoy myself when the time calls for it.”

“Ha.”

Dante let out a dry laugh and rubbed the back of his neck again before blurting out, almost in resignation,

“Then… would there be a chance for me to accompany you during this Spring Festival?”

Terry’s eyelids flickered closed and open again.

“Ah.”

And then she smiled, as if she understood something.

In that instant, a single sentence flashed through Dante’s mind.

‘Has she figured it out?’

Terry Romance—who claimed to be searching far and wide for her destined partner.

Terry Romance—who remained steadfastly impenetrable to anyone who flirted with her or sent her proposals.

Truthfully, Dante had already suffered something akin to his first rejection when he saw how she would recoil at the mere mention of romance, claim she was “allergic to it,” and shudder even at the casual suggestion of a date.

And yet, in a moment like this, he couldn’t stop the faint tension that seized him.

Dante Garvan was, more than anything, a perfectly ordinary man nursing a one-sided love.

The fact that his object of affection was that Terry Romance did not make him composed or resigned.

Perhaps that was the true tragedy.

“It’s for romantic lessons!”

Yes. A tragedy.

Dante’s eyes instantly clouded with emptiness.

Naturally, Terry didn’t notice.

“As expected of Your Highness. Even making use of spare moments to continue lessons we haven’t had in a while.”

“…Right… yes…”

“You thought I looked busy, so it would be awkward to suggest lessons outright. So you first checked whether a regular appointment would be possible, didn’t you?”

“…Something like that…”

“I’d be delighted.”

Despite his hollow despair, Terry’s response was cheerful.

That, in itself, was surprising.

Someone who treated dates as if they were something dreadful was this enthusiastic about romantic lessons?

‘What is this? Like saying you hate walnuts but love walnut candy?’

Dante couldn’t decide whether to feel dumbfounded or simply grateful.

“Your Highness is a good teacher, after all.”

Or perhaps he should swallow the sorrow that accompanied those plain words—clear, firm, and unmistakably drawing a line.

Dante Garvan, a young man who had just restarted the crush he had once folded away during his Academy days, found his situation rather bleak.

But what could he do?

The Spring Festival appointment had been made, and Terry Romance was fully convinced it was for romantic lessons.

So Dante steeled himself.

Even if there were formidable obstacles awaiting them before the festival, he wouldn’t turn down the opportunity he’d been given.

You never know.

If he continued to create more points of contact like this, perhaps someday a chance would come his way.

As he thought that, Liam’s face rose in his mind.

‘…Though there are many rivals.’

Dante Garvan let out a hollow laugh.

He did not know.

Among those rivals, the most dangerous one would be lying in wait at the Spring Festival.