Chapter 30
“…My dress room.”
At Erica’s reply, Ellen looked momentarily dumbfounded.
“D-Dress room? The one with dresses lined up on racks?”
Serel couldn’t hold back and burst into loud laughter at Ellen’s reaction.
“Hahaha! Yes, that dress room. I went there once and saw she actually set up a target inside!”
“There was literally no other place to put it! Serel, you know that!”
Erica flushed slightly and reached for her fan to cool her face—only to realize she wasn’t wearing a dress and thus had no fan with her.
Ellen didn’t need an explanation to understand.
The women here had some involvement in politics or commerce, but they had nothing to do with martial arts. Even when horseback riding, they wore special riding dresses and sat sideways. It was unthinkable for them to wield weapons.
If a noble lady from the empire said she was learning to use weapons, society would be scandalized. So Erica couldn’t even bring herself to ask her parents if she could use the training hall or practice throwing knives. Instead, she claimed a space for herself in secret.
Parents rarely entered their daughters’ dress rooms once they reached a certain age, even if they weren’t officially adults yet. So Erica made that her practice space.
Even with countless dresses hung up, there was plenty of room left. Her enormous dress room was perfect for practicing throwing knives.
“Pfft. Alright, Erica. Let’s see that ‘dress room’ skill of yours. You go first.”
Ellen handed her a throwing knife with a grin.
“I practiced a lot,” Erica said confidently, her face turning serious as she fitted the knife between her fingers.
She aimed carefully and threw. Thunk! The knife hit dead center on the target.
“Whoa, Erica. You’re good.”
Ellen was impressed—it had landed square in the middle. Erica beamed.
“Told you I practiced a lot. I stay in my dress room so long that my dad even raised my allowance.”
“Why?”
“He thought I was holed up in there agonizing over having nothing to wear, so he gave me money to buy more dresses.”
Ellen and Serel cracked up.
“Wow. You get to practice and earn more allowance? That’s a win.”
“Totally sounds like your dad.”
“Serel, you should practice in your dress room too.”
“Maybe I should.”
The image Erica had painted was so vivid that Ellen and Serel couldn’t stop laughing.
“Maybe I should move my practice space there too,” Serel said as she pulled on her gloves teasingly.
Erica and Serel always wore gloves when practicing. Calluses on a lady’s hands would raise too many questions.
The three of them had scoured the capital years ago during a short vacation (the “Paulet”) looking for the perfect gloves for throwing knives. Most were too slippery, too stiff, or too awkward to use. But eventually, they found the perfect pair.
The moment they discovered them, they cheered in joy—and fearing they might never find them again, they bought out the entire stock.
Even now, those gloves were neatly stored in a drawer in each of their dress rooms.
Serel’s throw landed right beside Erica’s. Ellen was again impressed by her fluid, efficient movement.
“Wow, you two have gotten really good! Is this all you do at home? Guess I’ll have to practice harder.”
Seeing how much Erica and Serel had improved, Ellen felt a sense of urgency. Determined to keep up, she slipped two knives between her bare fingers.
“Ellen, what about gloves?” Serel asked, scanning her waistline, but saw no gloves tucked into the fabric around her waist.
“Oh, I don’t use them. I practice bare-handed at home too.”
Ellen’s fingers already had calluses from handling bows and knives.
“Ellen…”
Serel was about to scold her about taking care of her hands early on but paused. Maybe it would be just as bad for the heir of a border duke’s family to have soft, delicate hands.
She couldn’t decide between beauty as a noblewoman and competence as the next family head, and ended up looking conflicted.
Ellen, knowing exactly what Serel was thinking, smiled kindly.
“It’s okay, Serel. When debutante season comes, I’ll take care of my hands. That’s why I bought my gloves in a slightly bigger size.”
Erica, who had come up behind Serel and hung off her shoulders, added,
“Yeah, Serel. A hundred days before her debutante ball, let’s inspect Ellen’s hands. If the calluses aren’t gone, we’ll confiscate her bow and knives. Problem solved.”
At Erica’s playful suggestion, all three laughed.
“Deal,” Serel agreed, lightly patting Erica’s arms around her neck.
Ellen watched her two friends with a smile, spinning a knife lightly between her fingers. Then with a swift motion, she threw both.
Thunk! Thunk! One landed between Erica and Serel’s knives. The other struck near the upper diagonal corner.
“That sounded totally different than when we throw.”
“Did you just break the target?”
“Ellen’s out here damaging property in someone else’s house.”
“Let’s tell Lady Roil.”
Erica and Serel whispered loudly on purpose so Ellen could hear.
“You mess with Ellen and you’re done for!”
A playful voice called from behind them. Adrian clapped dramatically and walked over. Next to him was Santuk, twirling his sword.
“Aren’t you going to get in huge trouble for swinging that around?”
Ellen asked, thinking of the knights from the Quinter family.
“Oh, totally. I’d probably be stuck running laps around the training hall all day.”
The voice didn’t come from Adrian or Santuk—it came from further back. It was Roil, strolling in at a relaxed pace.
All the kids turned toward his voice.
“Oh, you’re done already?”
“That was quick.”
Adrian and Santuk turned to wait for Roil.
Meanwhile, Ellen and Erica’s expressions soured slightly. Walking half a step behind Roil was Scylla, smiling sweetly with a towel and water in her hands.
“What’s she doing? Why is she following him like that? Ellen, isn’t she assigned to your room? Why is she with him again?”
Erica whispered beside Ellen.
She frowned at Scylla, who smiled back innocently like she didn’t know anything.
So fake.
Ellen struggled to keep her expression neutral as she looked at Scylla’s smug little act.
She hadn’t liked Scylla since the first day they met at the hunting grounds—and seeing her now, proudly walking with Roil, made her dislike her even more.
Scylla definitely knew that Erica liked Roil. After all, the night before, right as Scylla came into their room with the tray, Erica had asked Ellen about Roil’s ideal type.
Their friends had thought Scylla was just carefully setting the table, but Ellen, who had observed her longer, could tell she was just stalling.
If she wanted to, Scylla could’ve done the setup quickly and neatly. Any maid serving nobles was trained to that level.
Erica and Serel hadn’t noticed because they were young—and because Scylla acted very convincingly.
Ellen could tell Scylla had mastered the art of silently conveying: I’m working hard. I’m doing this out of care for you.
That’s a talent, too, Ellen admitted.
A talent that really annoyed her.
She glanced sideways at Erica, whose face had also stiffened at the sight of Scylla.
“Scylla,” Ellen called.
Scylla, walking practically glued to Roil’s side, gave a small, practiced smile and made eye contact as she walked over.
Wow. She really never answers unless I force her to. Isn’t that kind of a problem?
Ellen kept staring with a serious expression until Scylla finally opened her mouth.
“Yes, miss?”
“Collect all the throwing knives and bring them to my room—these ones too,” Ellen said, jerking her chin at the knives she’d prepared.
Scylla, who had been gliding over like a noble lady, flinched slightly at Ellen’s cold tone, then glanced at Roil.
Ellen’s brow twitched. What, you want his permission or something?
Feeling her gaze, Roil looked at Scylla—but didn’t move. He simply gave a tiny nod, like, Well? What are you waiting for?
Scylla’s lips twitched, and she gave him a little bow before moving toward the targets to collect the knives.
She easily removed the ones Erica and Serel had thrown, but had to tug and grunt trying to pull out Ellen’s knives. Watching this, Ellen said to her friends coolly:
“Let’s go in. I’ve lost the mood.”
Erica and Serel agreed, and soon Roil, Adrian, and Santuk followed them back to the estate.
Scylla, left alone in the training ground, dropped the knives in her hand with a clatter.
“What kind of freakish strength is that? Did she throw the knives or plant them in?”
She glared at the kids’ retreating backs before letting out another grunt as she tried to yank out the last knife with both hands.
✿ ✿ ✿
Back inside, the kids washed up and changed, then gathered in the greenhouse. The Karzel family’s greenhouse was Diana’s pride and joy—she personally tended to it.
Roil normally had no interest in the greenhouse and rarely went there. But Ellen, Erica, and Serel loved it. Perhaps because of that, the greenhouse had become an unofficial teahouse for casual tea time during Karzel family’s informal get-togethers.
Adrian, acting as if it were second nature, fetched a chess set from a drawer in the corner. Normally, a greenhouse wouldn’t have chess, but since the kids always had tea here, Roil had brought one in.
As Serel and Adrian set up the board, Ellen called Roil.
“Roil.”
“What?”
“We were talking last night… doesn’t Scylla look kind of familiar?”
Serel paused mid-setup and looked up.
“Yeah, I feel like I’ve seen her before. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t remember where. I usually remember people really well.”
Everyone turned their attention to Roil.
“Hmm. None of you remember? Well, I guess it’s understandable. Back then, her face looked… different.”
Roil murmured to himself, answering his own question.
Wait—are you saying we all met her before? When?
