With his soft, gently swept back golden hair, expertly sculpted features, eyes as bright and clear as the sky, and broad shoulders honed through rigorous training, Leonard was nothing short of a divine gift in appearance. 

Behind this god-given figure, pale red plum blossoms—a harbinger of spring in the Bilroa Empire—bloomed in full glory.

Swish—!

Leonard elegantly unfolded a newspaper, drawing the gaze of Count Seymour’s brown eyes toward him.

Just as Seymour was about to frown—

“If you’ve got something to say, just say it.”

Leonard’s leisurely voice drifted across the table.

“Your Highness, did you come across something amusing in the paper?”

“Does it look that way?”

“You’ve been staring at it for quite some time. You even postponed your morning schedule…”

Normally, he never bothered with newspapers, no matter how much Seymour recommended them. What had gotten into him today? 

Count Seymour grumbled inwardly at Leonard’s leisurely manner, yet Leonard’s words snapped him back to reality.

“I have a question.”

“What is it, Your Highness?”

Suspicion flickered in Seymour’s eyes. From his past experiences, whenever Leonard tossed in a question unrelated to their current conversation, it rarely ended well. 

Leonard’s lips curved in a faint smile.

“I heard you couldn’t stand books or newspapers?”

“Me?”

“They say you were quite infamous at Froling Academy. So when the Count—who supposedly hated the very idea of studying—graduated at the top of his class, everyone was astonished.”

“Who spreads such baseless rumors…! Every morning, the first thing I do upon waking up is read newspapers and books. I still do, to this very day!”

Count Seymour retorted indignantly, shifting in his seat like a restless colt—manners and decorum forgotten.

Behind the newspaper, Leonard’s lips tugged into a crooked smile.

“Hm. Then why did that rumor reach my ears?”

“It’s slander! How could someone who hates studying and is lazy ever become Your Highness’s loyal aide? Impossible!” Seymour declared firmly.

“Is that so?”

“Of course! Absolutely!”

He shook his head up and down without a shred of hesitation. 

Leonard then folded the newspaper neatly in half and held it out to him, his mouth tilting into a lazy smile.

“Then read this, and tell me what you think.”

“Pardon?”

“If you read the newspaper daily, as you’ve claimed, you should be able to easily deduce what this article wants to say. If your thoughts match mine, I might just help you track down whoever dared to slander you.”

He had no idea why he had to do this, but nonetheless, Seymour found himself lowering his eyes to read the newspaper.

“‘Those seeking wealth and honor are flocking to Bruin’? This is…”

The article reported on the flood of marriage proposals arriving at the Duke of Bruin’s household. It even mentioned that Baron Tyron, Isabela de Bruin’s guardian, was seriously narrowing down prospective candidates after consulting the young lady herself.

As Seymour read the article line by line, Leonard savored freshly squeezed fruit juice.

“And you found this amusing? This is hardly good news for us.” Seymour made a sour face. 

Leonard’s mouth curved faintly again.

“So, what do you think?”

Seymour clicked his tongue inwardly. His lord’s bad habit of prodding even after he’d already figured out the answer was as irksome as ever. 

Glancing at Leonard, who sat with his chin resting elegantly on one hand, Seymour finally spoke.

“This may throw a wrench into our plans. The cause is none other than Lady Bruin’s marriage.”

“Why is that?”

“If she marries, the ‘Fairy Garden’—which is already amassing wealth on the continent—will no longer remain her secret. The goose that lays golden eggs will either be sold off or locked away. Either way, for us, who are considering a partnership with Bruin, this could be troublesome.”

Leonard nodded slowly at Seymour’s speculation.

“An assumption that overlooks unforeseen variables… but isn’t entirely wrong.”

Isabela de Bruin.

The successor of the Bruin Duchy in the Bilroa Empire.

The familiar name stirred an old memory in Leonard’s mind.

When he was sixteen, bristling with resentment toward his late father and lashing out with cruel words at anyone who came near, there had been a girl—small, but unafraid to speak her mind.

“Who are you? Who dares stay here without permission?”

“Permission? Ugh, even here I need permission? What kind of place is this, where you need approval for every little thing? Can’t you just make things simple for once? The garden is huge, there’s plenty of room…”

A girl with deep chestnut-brown hair, who dared to complain even before royalty. That girl was Isabela de Bruin.

Though she had looked much younger than him, she spoke like someone far older. Back then, she had introduced herself as the daughter of Duke Bruin from the Bilroa Empire.

Leonard had never told her his own name, so she likely hadn’t known who he was. Still, she was unlike anyone he’d met in the Kairan Empire, and the memory resurfaced from time to time.

“…A shame.”

She’d left quite an impression and sparked curiosity.

“Your Highness?” Seymour looked up.

Leonard shook his head. Whatever the case, that frank, pure girl was long gone. Even if they met again, she would already be ingrained in the mindset and life of the nobility.

“It’s nothing. More importantly, what of the supplies the homeland had sent?”

“Ah, I just received word. By now, they should be passing through the capital square.”

The intriguing memory that had once brightened his bleak palace life would fade soon enough. It was a pity, but nothing more.

“Good. Then starting tomorrow, we’ll officially begin overseeing the merchant group’s affairs. Oh, and put dealings with the Bruin Duchy on hold for now.”

“On hold?”

“Just keep an eye on things. If marriage negotiations are underway, it might be wiser to explore other options.”

As the sky turned a deep crimson, people began to gather in the capital square.

Wagons laden with goods stretched endlessly into the distance, while newsletters from the Bilroa Empire scattered in the wind. 

The square, at the center of the road leading from the palace gates, overflowed with people eager to glimpse this rare spectacle.

“Wow! They say Kairan is the rising new power, and their might really is something!”

Shannon, gazing out from the fourth floor of a red-bricked building, was captivated by the scene.

“How much do you think that’s worth?”

She stretched her arm out, rapidly counting the wagons with her slender fingers.

As a fallen noble whose family had collapsed under crushing debt, Shannon had a habit of relating everything she saw to money.

“Careful, you’ll fall.”

Isabela tugged at her clothes as she dangled precariously from the windowsill.

“Don’t worry. Even when debt collectors stormed our estate and smashed everything to pieces, I came out unscathed. Instead of fretting, why don’t you take a look yourself?”

“I’ll pass.”

Isabela declined, settling back onto the sofa.Her mind was preoccupied with the family succession ceremony that was to take place in two weeks. That alone made her head feel fit to burst.

After the commotion outside died down, Shannon lost interest and plopped onto the sofa beside Isabela.

“What’s with you? Why so grim?”

“Too quiet.”

“Hm? Ah, you mean Baron Tyron? Your uncle?”

Isabela said nothing. She didn’t even want to call him that.

Shannon’s brows knitted knowingly.

“Ugh! Why won’t that old coot just die already? Maybe he’s still alive because I curse him so much every night. He’s lived far too long.”

At her friend’s blunt words, Isabela’s lips curved faintly. It felt good, having someone angry on her behalf. The thought that she wasn’t alone brought comfort, but at the same time, she wondered if she had dragged Shannon into too much.

Five years ago, when she had just turned fifteen, Isabela suffered a terrible nightmare. From that moment, she awoke to the truth that this life wasn’t her first. She had lived and died many times before.

Now she found herself reborn inside a novel titled <If Only I Could Save You>, a story infamous in her previous world for its tragic ending.

And the heroine of that novel, exploited by her greedy uncle and left to die wretchedly at the age of twenty-one, was none other than herself.

Despite her disbelief and confusion, Isabela came to understand that she was living her fourth reincarnation. From that moment, she had gone straight to Shannon at the crack of dawn, pleading for help, expressing her will to live.

As the flood of memories from past lives crashed into her, Isabela was in dire need of someone she could trust. At the time, that someone had only been Shannon.

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