Chapter 8 –
“…Are you being serious?”
Reinhardt looked at her with a skeptical gaze. Irene felt a twinge of guilt.
Saying he was handsome had been the truth, but calling him her type? That had been a lie.
Her real type was the kind of man who could endure even her punches—big, solid, and dependable.
By contrast, Reinhardt was the kind of boy who stirred her protective instincts—he looked like someone you’d want to shield, not lean on.
In other words, he looked like he’d fall over from a light flick of her hand.
Still, she couldn’t go back on her words now.
‘I’ll stick to it.’
A knight must stand by their convictions.
“Your Highness is the most handsome person I’ve ever seen.”
It wasn’t exactly a lie, so the words came out without hesitation.
Even Kim Taeheon had shown signs of jealousy toward Reinhardt at times.
Though Taeheon lacked both tact and ability, what really stood out was the stark contrast in looks.
Anyone could tell Reinhardt and Lloyd were worlds apart in terms of appearance.
That’s why Taeheon had coped with his inferiority by stealing away the women Reinhardt had shown interest in.
‘And I actually followed someone like that as my lord…’
Irene suddenly wanted to bury her face in a bowl of water and die from shame.
The momentary scowl that crossed her face left Reinhardt confused.
He had received confessions from countless noble ladies before.
No matter how much they pretended to be composed, a hint of shyness or embarrassment always showed.
But now here was a girl claiming to like him—with that expression?
‘…And I’m supposed to believe her?’
Deciding he had no reason to continue this odd conversation, Reinhardt quickly turned and left.
It looked as if he were trying to escape from a lunatic.
Even as she watched him walk away, Irene didn’t call out to stop him.
Trying to push the issue further would only make things worse.
‘Winning a boy’s favor is no easy task.’
Then again, she had always struggled to win people’s affection, more than most.
It wasn’t surprising—but to be turned away even after saying something so direct and polite…
Her mouth tasted a little bitter.
“There’s got to be a better way…”
She fell into thought again.
“Ugh, she’s seriously driving me nuts!”
Dietrich exploded with frustration. That crow-girl had changed all of a sudden.
She acted like she didn’t care how others treated her, and even had the nerve to shamelessly sit at the family table like she belonged there.
He’d thought everything would return to normal once Father and Brother came back—but she still waltzed into the dining room as if their presence made no difference.
It was like she was the only one who didn’t notice the awkward atmosphere she created.
‘Is she really that oblivious? Or is she just pretending not to notice?’
Given her behavior so far, the latter seemed more likely.
Which made Dietrich even angrier.
‘She dares act like she’s part of the family? She doesn’t even know her place!’
He clenched his fists tightly.
“Because of her…”
He was miserable.
He couldn’t remember it—he’d been a baby eight years ago—but a two-year-old girl had been abandoned at the gates of the Lykaon estate.
That girl had been Irene Lykaon.
The Duchess had found her and taken her in, and the entire household had been thrown into turmoil.
A year later, the Duchess died from a plague.
When Dietrich was five, his nurse whispered to him one day while they were alone:
“Young master, the lady didn’t die of a plague.”
She had been close friends with the Duchess, and revealed a secret:
“Then what happened…?”
“It was all because of that crow.”
And just like that, he finally understood why he had to grow up lonely.
That wretched crow had taken his mother away from him.
“But I’m on your side, young master.”
That nurse had since left the estate due to personal matters.
Now Dietrich was completely alone.
“You think I’ll just let this go?”
If he was going to be unhappy, then she had to be even more so.
Recalling the duel between Chloe and Irene, a sinister smile crept across Dietrich’s face.
“My sister’s too soft.”
Chloe always blamed herself after fights.
But Dietrich was different.
An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth.
Irene had to suffer the same way.
Late at night, Irene returned from training and reached for her doorknob—then stopped.
‘Someone’s inside.’
Who could it be?
At this hour, the only kind of intruder she could imagine was—
An assassin.
‘…No, probably not.’
No matter how hostile the Lykaons might act, they’d never sent assassins after her.
‘If anything, they’ve come to save me before.’
The more she thought about it, the stranger this family seemed.
She let go of her suspicions and opened the door.
When she saw who it was, she tilted her head.
“Chloe?”
“You sure took your time, saying you were just training.”
The moonlight through the bars illuminated Chloe’s fine silver hair beautifully.
The silver-haired girl was seated elegantly in an old chair, fanning herself.
Irene noticed it was the wrist Chloe had injured in their duel.
‘So it’s healed.’
She had felt guilty about the injury, but was relieved to see Chloe seemed fine.
“What are you doing here at this hour?”
“Are you really going to attend my lessons?”
“Yeah.”
They had agreed that if Irene won the duel, she could take part in Chloe’s etiquette lessons. Irene nodded as if it were obvious.
Chloe raised her chin haughtily.
“They’re way above your level.”
“Sure. So what’s your real reason for coming?”
Irene knew Chloe hadn’t come all this way just to say that one line.
Feeling like she’d been seen through, Chloe furrowed her brows and snapped her fan shut.
“Dietrich went to the armory.”
Irene immediately understood what she was getting at.
So Dietrich really had gone to stir up trouble.
“Looks like he’s planning a little prank.”
Chloe lightly touched the edge of her fan.
Irene gave a knowing nod.
‘So he tampered with my training sword.’
She stared quietly at Chloe.
‘But why tell me this?’
Sensing her questioning gaze, Chloe stood and opened her fan again.
“That settles my debt.”
“…Ah.”
With that parting remark, Chloe left without hesitation.
Irene tilted her head as she watched her go.
‘Did she really wait just to say that one thing?’
Chloe didn’t seem like the type. It was more believable that she had just run into her by chance.
Now alone in the room, Irene looked out the window with a troubled expression.
More important than a child’s prank was fixing her relationship with the prince.
‘Wait a second.’
While she had been thinking, night had fallen.
And right on cue, a snowstorm had started to rage.
‘I’m ten years old this year.’
Irene remembered clearly.
Something significant had happened in the Lykaon territory when she was ten, during the winter.
As she recalled the exact date, a strange light flickered in her crimson eyes.
She might have just found her answer.
The Next Morning
A blizzard had swept through before dawn, transforming the world into a snow-covered landscape overnight.
Startled by the cold, Irene woke up earlier than usual and headed straight for the training grounds.
In one corner stood Erica, wearing a fox-fur hat, her nose red and breath misting in the cold.
Noticing Irene, she greeted her calmly, pretending she hadn’t been freezing a moment ago.
“Good morning, my lady. We meet again.”
Then, without hesitation, she took off her own fur hat and placed it on Irene’s head.
Startled, Irene touched the hat and asked, “What about you?”
“I’ve already warmed up from training. It’s actually too hot for me now.”
‘Liar.’
She’d been shivering just a minute ago. But instead of pointing it out and hurting Erica’s pride, Irene simply nodded.
“Thank you.”
“Not at all. It’s nothing compared to what you’ve done for me.”
Erica smiled shyly. For some reason, Irene felt awkward and didn’t respond, simply picking up her wooden sword.
Recalling Chloe’s warning from the night before, she examined the sword carefully.
‘He swapped it.’
It was clearly the work of a child—sloppy and obvious.
A closer look revealed a small crack running through the core of the blade.
“My lady, I think there’s something wrong with that sword. Should I fetch you a new one…?”
“No need.”
Irene shook her head.
“…Huh?”
Erica looked puzzled, but Irene said nothing and began practicing horizontal strikes.
“Ooooh!”
The knights’ gasps rang out from a distance.
Turning her head, Irene saw a crowd of knights gathered, watching a sparring match between Reinhardt and Mikhail.
