Episode 2
Beneath the man’s tousled black hair, darker eyes glinted with depth. His nose and jawline were sharply sculpted like they had been carved with a blade.
Even the deep-colored frock coat, styled with sharp lapels, sat perfectly on him without a single crease.
The white cravat around his neck was tasteful and not the least bit excessive.
Though he wore a shirt, vest, and formal coat layered together, he somehow looked light and graceful—like a model.
Who is this man? Anri wondered, her eyes subtly scanning the carriage and his outfit, searching for clues about his lineage.
But there were no symbols or insignias to indicate his house or status.
The man tilted his head slightly, his narrowed eyes glinting dangerously.
That unstable gaze sent a jolt through Anri’s chest, making her snap out of it like she’d just been pricked by a needle.
His Adam’s apple bobbed subtly as he swallowed.
“Are you the owner of this mare?”
He stepped forward abruptly, nodding toward the brown mare. A sudden chill seemed to radiate from him.
His complexion was pale, with a faint bluish hue under his eyes.
The mature, sensual air he carried caught Anri off guard. She blinked once, startled by the unexplainable flutter in her chest.
“…Pardon me?”
She still couldn’t grasp what was going on.
Why had both carriages suddenly stopped? Why were both coachmen looking so troubled?
In contrast, this man appeared completely composed—unbothered.
And then came his next, coolly spoken sentence—one Anri could never have imagined.
“Your mare is in heat for our stallion.”
“…?”
A hollow gust of wind blew by.
The lace on Anri’s bonnet fluttered faintly.
The man’s accent was polished and unmistakably aristocratic.
Even as he claimed her mare was in heat for his stallion, the pronunciation and intonation were textbook—refined and impeccable.
The kind of enunciation reserved for the highest of the nobility.
Do upper-class tongues have their own shine or something…?
“It seems you didn’t understand me.”
No—she understood him perfectly. His words were too clear.
But she was still stunned, blinking silently.
The man remained calm and expressionless, his voice steady and cold.
“Forgive me for saying such a thing to a lady…”
His flat tone held no trace of apology.
“But that mare over there…”
Following his gaze, Anri’s eyes slowly turned.
“…has gone into heat for this stallion here.”
“…”
Now she was staring at the stallion.
The jet-black horse was flawless—its muscular body sleek and powerful.
It was more striking than most handsome men.
Then came the man’s next chilling remark.
“I’m afraid we’ll have to ask you to move aside. We don’t allow our horses to breed with just any mare.”
“…”
Anri’s eyes widened, her lips parting slowly.
Did I… just hear that right?
‘Just any mare’?
The first thing he said was already outrageous, but this—this was truly shocking.
It felt like she’d been slapped by someone far too handsome to expect it from.
He’s picking a fight with me, isn’t he?
Anri’s expression darkened.
Though the man remained expressionless and unbothered, it was clear he was looking down on her—on her, her family, and her house.
Hendel had been a trusted servant of her late mother, and Anri had grown up watching him care for the horses with dedication.
She didn’t tend to the stables herself, but she often washed or fed the horses. With only two of them, she’d naturally grown attached.
And yet… “just any mare”?
Anri quickly regained her composure.
That earlier flutter she’d felt from his good looks—regrettable. It was time to switch into battle mode.
She gracefully lowered her gloved hand from stroking the mare and clasped both hands neatly, drawing in a composed breath. Then she smiled sweetly.
“Forgive me, but perhaps there’s been a misunderstanding. Isn’t it possible your stallion fell for our Marilyn instead?”
Marilyn was the name of her mare.
Hendel’s face paled further at her bold reply.
But Anri maintained her calm smile. Her clear, porcelain face was now tinged with unyielding thorns.
The man’s expression didn’t change, but a cold, brief chuckle escaped his lips.
His eyes, locked on Anri’s, glittered with something stranger than amusement.
“You seem to know very little about animal mating behavior.”
You?
Anri was now certain—this man was intentionally rude and arrogant.
Calling her you, when she was clearly an unmarried noblewoman? He didn’t even bother with lady or miss.
A man who spoke with perfect upper-class diction couldn’t possibly not know how impolite that was.
He was being rude on purpose. Or he simply thought she didn’t deserve even basic manners.
So Anri had no intention of greeting him politely, either.
The man, cold and leisurely, continued explaining in a condescending tone.
“Estrus occurs in females, not males. The desire for pregnancy causes the female to seek out the male.”
“…”
Anri’s calm smile began to crack.
“Humans can control it with their brains, of course, but your Marilyn—being a mere animal—must be in quite the state. Stopping mid-run and all.”
Anri had to work hard to keep her expression neutral as this verbal barrage continued.
“Hendel, is that true?”
She kept her eyes locked on the man’s, unwilling to look away and give him the satisfaction.
“Ahem, miss… I hadn’t planned to tell you, but… well, Marilyn has seemed eager to mate lately. I even borrowed a few stallions to pair with her, but she kept rejecting them. I never heard of a mare being so picky, but… ahem.”
Hendel sweated nervously, clearly embarrassed to discuss this with a lady.
He continued explaining that Marilyn had been in heat—she’d lost her appetite, her body swollen from the symptoms.
But with only two horses at the estate, there hadn’t been much choice but to keep using her for the carriage.
Apparently, other stallions had sensed her condition during outings, but she turned them all down.
Then, upon seeing that magnificent black stallion… she had lunged toward him.
The two coachmen had panicked and stopped the carriages.
That’s how Anri and the man ended up standing face-to-face.
Now that she knew the whole story, Anri’s eyes trembled slightly—but she kept her refined poise.
The man’s arrogance irritated her greatly, but it was also true her horse had nearly caused an accident.
Thankfully, no one was hurt. But the conversation… was grating.
Her pride was wounded, and her competitiveness ignited.
“Marilyn?”
She gently called the still-excited mare.
Now that she looked, Marilyn was indeed crying out toward the black stallion, tapping her snout against the air, pawing at the ground—desperate to get closer.
Can horses fall in love at first sight, too?
Anri softly began to soothe her.
“Even so, you can’t just give yourself to any male. Shouldn’t you check who he is first? He could be a womanizer—or addicted to opium, for all we know. He might look good but be seriously flawed inside. Still, I admire your honesty and bravery.”
She gently stroked Marilyn.
With the same warm gaze, she turned her eyes back up to the man.
“I’m sorry. It seems our Marilyn was quite rude to your horse. I sincerely apologize.”
“…”
Anri gracefully curtsied, lifting her dress slightly. The man looked down at the top of her head.
‘Serious… flaw?’
She had said it playfully, but why did it feel like a dagger to his pride?
Why did that one line jab straight into his masculinity?
“I’d like to offer some compensation, if you’ll allow me to speak with my father.”
Their eyes met and lingered—for a long moment.
Then the man abruptly said,
“I’d like to correct your Marilyn’s misunderstanding.”
His words came faster now.
“Our Kyristan is not just any male. He’s the most elite stallion in the entire kingdom. Have you ever heard of the legendary stud whose mating fee equals a mansion’s worth—yet he still refuses all offers?”
“…”
Anri blinked slowly.
Of course not.
But the man’s expression had stiffened, like he’d taken offense—maybe even gotten a bit competitive himself.
“Even now, noble houses send letters offering fortunes for just one night with Kyristan. Even the royal family has tried to secure his superior genes.”
“Oh my, is that so?”
Anri smiled like a blooming flower bud.
It looked bright at first glance—but it was sarcasm.
Her cheeks flushed with a rosy tint, but the man stood tall, unaffected by her smile.
“Kyristan’s lineage goes back to the legendary stallion of the Habsburg royal family. He’s fed only premium-grade alfalfa and select grasses grown on nutrient-rich soil. He has a personal nutritionist, and even his meal plans are a family secret passed down to heirs only.”
“You have a… deep affection for livestock, I see!”
Anri’s eyes sparkled with mock admiration.
The corner of the man’s lips lifted in a faint smirk.
“Of course. As the head of the family, I care deeply not just for our servants—but even for every chick in the coop.”
