Chapter 7
So this is Kalashniel… Living up to the name, I see.
Ivon bowed his head once more and spoke.
“Our riding club prohibits the possession or carrying of firearms and other dangerous weapons. Additionally, the number of bodyguards accompanying each VIP is limited. We kindly ask for your understanding and cooperation.”
“Is that so? We weren’t told anything like that when we inquired beforehand.”
“I sincerely apologize for not informing you earlier. However, rules are rules, and I must once again request your understanding and cooperation.”
“Then how many bodyguards am I allowed to bring?”
“As Lady Ashmia Kalashniel holds no noble title, I’m afraid you may not be accompanied by any bodyguards.”
“What the—!”
Vanessa nearly exploded, but Ashmia raised her hand to stop her.
“If the number of bodyguards is tied to noble rank, I imagine there are plenty of other guests who might take issue with that policy.”
“…”
“Would it be resolved if I simply paid an additional fee per person?”
“If you’re not riding one of our horses, that may not be an option either.”
Ashmia’s eyes narrowed at Ivon’s reply.
As expected, her hunch that there would be trouble wasn’t wrong.
But she hadn’t imagined she’d be turned away at the gate in such a ridiculous manner.
“So, in the end, you’re saying I can only enter alone?”
Ashmia herself wasn’t aware, but when her emotions ran high, a pinkish aura would radiate around her pupils, blending with her golden irises and turning her eyes into a “gold rose” hue.
When Ivon met that mystical gaze, he unconsciously swallowed hard and felt a cold sweat run down his spine.
The same went for the other staff members behind him—they were clearly tense, and Ashmia saw right through it.
They’re afraid of me, but they’re not backing down. No, they can’t back down.
Because there was someone they feared even more.
And it wasn’t hard for Ashmia to guess who that someone might be.
She let out a light sigh, and the glow in her eyes faded back to normal.
“Alright, if that’s how it is—”
Just as Ivon finally began to relax, Ashmia opened her mouth to speak again—but she was interrupted.
“What on earth is going on here?!”
A sharp voice rang out from behind Ivon.
Startled, the riding club staff quickly stepped aside, revealing a beautiful blonde woman with sky-blue eyes dressed in a blue riding uniform, standing with her hands on her hips.
“I’d like to know when such absurd rules came into play, Ivon!”
Ivon bowed his head, flustered.
“L-Lady Pendragon… This is not what it seems…”
“It’s Father’s orders, isn’t it?”
Ivon had no answer to that—his silence said it all.
“I’ll take responsibility. Treat her properly as a guest—bodyguards or not!”
“…Understood.”
Ivon Randolph quickly changed his tune and waved his staff away with a bright smile. He bowed to Ashmia and said,
“Please, come inside, Lady Ashmia Kalashniel.”
Wow. What a bat of a man.
He changed his stance faster than a bullet.
“You’re Lady Ashmia Kalashniel, right? Nice to meet you. I’m Francesca Pendragon.”
The blonde woman approached Ashmia with confident strides and held out her hand.
The Pendragon Dukedom—known for holding the greatest political influence in the Empire.
Naturally, someone like Michael would never have had the chance to meet a lady of such a house. So Ashmia, slightly surprised by Francesca’s candid and unpretentious demeanor, gave a small curtsey before taking her hand.
“Ashmia Kalashniel greets Lady Francesca Pendragon. Thank you for your kindness and assistance.”
“Oh, don’t mention it. If anything, I should apologize. My father can be a little… overbearing. You know how he is.”
She said it playfully, but there were very few people in the Empire who could laugh about the Duke of Pendragon’s “overbearing” nature.
And Ashmia, who happened to be one of those few, replied with a smile.
“I completely understand. My own father’s been rather on edge recently because of some unfortunate incidents involving me.”
It was her subtle way of explaining the presence of eight bodyguards.
“Oh right! I heard about that. You were almost seriously hurt, weren’t you? Are you alright now?”
“Yes, I wasn’t badly injured.”
“That’s a relief. Anyway, this isn’t really the best place to keep talking. Shall we head inside?”
“Yes, let’s.”
While they chatted, Ashmia glanced briefly at the large man standing a few meters behind Francesca.
Byren Bernando.
He was probably Francesca’s sole bodyguard at the facility.
And one was enough—because this man could take down a bear with his bare hands, without using any supernatural abilities.
When it came to bodyguards, it wasn’t about quantity—it was about quality.
Bringing in eight bodyguards in front of a man like that would just make her look bad.
“Ivon, register these people under my name as bodyguards. That solves everything, right?”
“There’s no need to go that far.”
Ashmia smiled as she replied to Francesca.
“If you’d allow me to bring in just Vanessa, that will be more than enough. Thank you again for your kindness.”
“Hm… If you insist. Ivon, you heard her?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Francesca briefly smiled in a way Ashmia couldn’t quite read, glancing between her and Vanessa before turning away. Ashmia ordered her bodyguards to wait in the car and followed Ivon into the building.
Francesca, who had gone in first and was waiting in the lobby, began walking alongside Ashmia.
“Have you always been interested in horseback riding?”
“No, but I’ve decided to start now.”
“Good decision. Then I guess I’ll have to introduce you to a few people. You probably didn’t realize this, but you’re kind of famous among ‘our circle.’”
Francesca said it with a meaningful smile.
“Is that so? But you don’t have to go out of your way…”
“Don’t worry. I enjoy doing this.”
Francesca led Ashmia into a wide room that looked more like a small party lounge than a prep or rest area for riding.
It was only then that Ashmia realized why the parking lot had been so full.
Don’t tell me…
Did they all come just because I was coming?
The room was filled with nobles—teens and young adults in their twenties—who stopped chatting and turned to look when Ashmia entered.
“Everyone! She’s finally here! This is Lady Ashmia Kalashniel, who’ll be joining our Fleur club starting today.”
Starting today… what?
She had no idea what that meant, but this wasn’t the time to show confusion. Ashmia gave a light curtsey and looked around the room.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Ashmia Kalashniel. I look forward to getting to know you all.”
Clap clap clap—
Half-hearted applause echoed around the room.
Despite the awkward atmosphere, Francesca beamed and pointed to a nearby seat.
“Let’s sit over there and chat for a bit.”
Ashmia was about to stop Francesca when—
“Who let this thug in here like she belongs?”
“Ugh, do you smell that? Didn’t she lock herself up for seven years? What made her crawl out now?”
The whispers came from somewhere in the room—quiet, but clear enough.
Snicker, snicker—
Vanessa looked around, but all she could hear were faint chuckles—she couldn’t tell who said it.
“Unbelievable—!”
“Vanessa.”
Ashmia quietly called her name before she could shout.
“Let it go.”
“…I’m sorry.”
“Ashmia? What are you doing? Come on over here.”
Francesca waved from further ahead. Ashmia raised only the corner of her mouth in a smile and replied,
“Lady Francesca. Pardon me, but I don’t have much time today. I’d like to see the horses first, if that’s alright.”
“Oh, you’re right! Since it’s your first time here, of course we should go see the horses first. Silly me.”
Francesca motioned toward the door.
“Let’s head to the stables.”
As they passed through the door leading to the stables, Francesca spoke to Ivon.
“Ivon, bring Lady Ashmia’s horse.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Ashmia could still feel mocking eyes boring into her back.
Feels like I’m some animal in a zoo.
Francesca looked directly at Ashmia, as if trying to read her thoughts.
“What’s wrong?”
Ashmia had already suspected it—but now, seeing her tone and expression, she was certain.
I knew it. I had a feeling.
It felt like she’d been watching a poorly rehearsed play.
Francesca Pendragon hadn’t approached her out of goodwill. That whole standoff at the gate? Likely staged by Francesca herself.
The person most displeased by “a title-less thug daring to enter this riding club” was none other than Francesca.
And the grand finale of her little play was—
Neighhhhh!!
“Oh my!”
That monstrous white horse being dragged from the stable.
A horse 1.5 times bigger than average, with bulging muscles, so wild that not even five adult men with ropes could control it.
They had made her wait two weeks—just to prepare this horse.
