“Is that… a compliment?”
“It’s not good to grow up too quickly. For you, or for your mother.”
At his words, Andion tilted his head with a strange expression. Knowing from Karia’s attitude that she held the count in some regard, he tried to be as polite as possible—but a gaze tinged with pity was not welcome.
“Why is that? I understand that a parent’s responsibility is to raise a child until the child can stand on their own. If one can fulfill that duty quickly, doesn’t it free up time to focus on other things? Human time is finite, after all.”
“What’s this about ‘human time’?”
Count Lowell clicked his tongue at the philosophical words coming from a five-year-old’s mouth. Just what kind of books did this child read to speak like that?
Rubbing his throbbing temple, he shook his head. How could a child possess such vast knowledge, yet understand so little about people’s hearts?
“Raising a child isn’t a job. It’s not homework you get scolded for if you don’t finish it on time. Just from how things were at the dining hall, I could tell how much your mother cherishes you. She looked like she truly enjoys the time she spends with you. So if you grow up too fast, she might feel lonely.”
“…Are you saying my mother would be happier if I acted like a child?”
“You don’t need to act. You already are a child. I just mean… don’t worry so much about adult matters. It’s okay to do what you want a little more. Your mother can afford to be a bit selfish now.”
How many people in this country could dare to touch her—she who was the emperor’s niece, the grand duke’s daughter, and now a titled noble in her own right? This house was Karia’s castle. Everything within its walls belonged to her.
She had the right to expel any visitor she didn’t want to see—just like now.
“Does the commander of the Imperial Knights have nothing better to do? Why hasn’t he gone back yet?”
Karia arrived in the rear garden, dressed comfortably and neatly, yet with unmistakable refinement. The duel she had proposed—staking a guard position—was about to begin.
Seeing her frown in displeasure, Alcard subtly averted his gaze and pulled Alice tightly into his arms.
“If knights are going to duel, don’t they need a mediator? I stayed to act as the referee.”
“No one asked you to.”
“But look—Alice says she likes me. She keeps holding on and won’t let me go, right?”
“Alice never said that.”
When Alice tilted her head with her clear blue eyes wide open, Alcard found her adorable beyond words—and at the same time felt betrayed by her honest reply.
Karia looked displeased as she stared at the two equally airheaded figures, then let out a deep sigh when she noticed the bluish bruise on Alcard’s cheek.
When she thought about it, she had used him more than a little in this affair, and it wasn’t as though the ground would wear down just because he stayed. Letting him remain for a while would be fine.
Since she didn’t tell him to leave again, Alcard grinned broadly in delight. At the same time, Higeon and Noah approached from opposite sides, both wearing light armor. Made of flexible materials for ease of movement, it was closer to protective gear than true armor.
“Looks like both of you are ready.”
“Of course, my lady. I will dedicate my victory to you.”
“…All according to Your Grace’s will.”
After bowing to her, the two men stood facing each other in the center of the garden.
Karia gestured toward Alcard with her chin. He quickly set the child down and stepped between them to recite the rules.
“Higeon Alkestrah and Noah Trantes, step forward. This duel will determine whether Sir Alkestrah is hired as a guard. Attacks to the neck, wrists, and ankles—areas without protection—are forbidden. The match ends when one party declares surrender or when any part of the body above the knees touches the ground. Any objections?”
“No.”
“None.”
“Then draw your blades. Begin the duel!”
The moment he declared the start, Noah brought his sword crashing down toward Higeon’s head. Steel collided with steel, the impact ringing out viciously. Higeon stepped back to steady his stance, but Noah seized the opening and pressed a fierce attack.
What is he doing?
Even as he kept up the offensive, Noah frowned at the strange sense of dissonance. He’d claimed confidence in his skill—so why hadn’t he launched a single proper counterattack?
Noah wasn’t even fighting at full strength. He’d planned to gauge Higeon’s ability and sword style before retaliating seriously, but the other man only pretended to be overwhelmed, never seeming to fight in earnest—almost as if he were deliberately trying to lose.
The duel grew increasingly sloppy, until an angry voice finally cut in.
“Enough.”
Karia strode toward them, her crimson eyes gleaming dangerously. Startled, both men halted at once. She snatched the sword from Noah’s hand—
—and leveled the finely honed steel at Higeon’s throat.
“Are you mocking me right now?”
As she ground out the words in a voice sharp with frost, Higeon dropped to his knees. He didn’t even flinch as the blade bit into his skin.
He simply bowed his head, as though ready to accept her fury in full.
“You’ve been guarding the princess, so it’s not like you’re crippled anywhere. You begged for a chance, and this is the pathetic excuse for a duel you show me? Do you truly think so little of me? You come into my home and toy with me?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“…Wasn’t this what you wanted? For me to lose… disgracefully.”
Higeon looked up, his expression impossibly complicated. Seeing his dejected face—like that of a dog abandoned by its master—Karia let out a hollow laugh.
“Do you not remember what you said to me when you left?”
“I remember it vividly.”
“And knowing that, you still dare claim you’re doing this for my sake? After spending time with the princess, have you forgotten what shame is?”
Sensing the tension turn ominous, Alcard retreated with Alice in his arms. Just what kind of relationship did those two have to make the air this heavy?
Karia had been angrier than usual lately, but this was the first time he’d ever seen her display her fury so openly. Alcard was deeply unsettled.
Yet the two paid no attention to anyone around them, continuing their exchange as though trapped in a world of their own.
“…If you wish, take my head. I came prepared for that. Everyone here is yours, and I am nothing more than a common knight. Even if you execute me on a disgraceful charge, no one will ever know the truth.”
“Hah. Are you testing my patience?”
“I’m sincere. Then and now, I have always been your knight.”
He bowed his head and remained still, as though awaiting judgment. For a fleeting moment, Karia felt the urge to simply cut his throat—but she couldn’t. His crime wasn’t that grave.
Suppressing her surging irritation, she handed the sword back to Noah. Then she slowly bent down, gripping Higeon’s chin. Just as when he knelt, he obediently raised his head at her touch.
“Talk.”
“…Your Grace.”
“You look like you’ve got excuses. Go on. Speak. But they’d better be convincing. Otherwise, I’ll charge you with insolence and take an arm, then a leg. I’ll make sure you can never again call yourself a knight.”
A quiet fire burned in Karia’s eyes. Faced with such naked hostility, Higeon felt—relieved. She was no longer weak enough to entrust her whole heart to a single person.
That made him happier than anything.
So why did his chest still ache?
‘That is impossible, Your Grace.’
That day, when the grand duke summoned him and ordered his reassignment, Higeon opposed the decision. To anyone, it was an absurd transfer.
He had originally belonged to the grand ducal knights, the Red Hawks. Guarding the princess should fall under the Imperial Knights. A knight was not an object. His refusal was reasonable.
‘You claim you and my daughter are lovers? No one has ever imagined such nonsense.’
‘But the princess says it looked that way.’
‘How many times must I say this before you understand? Her Highness does not like the grand duchess. No—she hates her. This is nothing more than another unreasonable demand because she saw how comfortable the grand duchess was around me!’
In the five years he had guarded Karia, Higeon never forgot a single person who caused her suffering. Though few dared torment her openly due to her status as a direct member of the imperial family, those few were more than enough.
Among them, Princess Seribis stood out—she had persistently picked fights with Karia since childhood. The major incidents alone were too many to count on one hand.
‘Your Grace, I am not eloquent, but the young lady always smiles even at my clumsy words. Please, for your daughter’s sake, allow her this small amusement—a friend.’
At the time, he was one of the few things in Karia’s life that brought her happiness. No matter how blunt he was, she always spoke to him first and smiled at him. He knew how large a place he held in her life.
Becoming the princess’s guard was certainly an honor for a knight—but Higeon couldn’t leave Karia for something so small.
If he wanted advancement, he could earn it through ability. And since he was her only direct guard, he trained relentlessly so that, even alone, he could protect her at any time.
