Episode 5
Someone shouted nearby. The wounded man called Lazare responded.
“Theodore.”
“Ah, right.”
“I’m not dead, so shut up. You’ll draw both people and beasts with that voice.”
Desirée fell into thought at the names Lazare and Theodore.
If T was for Theodore and L for Lazare, it made sense. The latter was probably his real name.
“I think someone’s coming.”
Lazare said, coughing.
“Where? Ahhh!”
One of Lazare’s companions spotted Desirée and let out a scream.
Desirée frowned at the piercing shout.
“It’s her! It’s—!”
Lazare grabbed the pointing hand of his friend.
“Don’t point, Baudouin. That’s rude. This lady is…”
Lazare’s eyes met Desirée’s.
He smiled. Despite his condition, he forced a grin.
Desirée found it pitiable.
“Hello, Desirée.”
At that moment, Desirée was sure this man was him—
an enemy, yet someone who had done more for her than her supposed ally, Fabrice.
She finally spoke the name she had just learned.
“Lazare?”
Lazare smiled as if asking, Why are you calling me that so sweetly?
There was a faint tenderness in the air, and Desirée found herself smiling as well.
“But who is she…?”
When Baudouin asked abruptly, Lazare shot him a glare. Baudouin shrugged.
After a sigh and a short silence, Lazare spoke.
“The knight commander’s daughter, the one all those guys were so curious about earlier.”
“Ah, I see.”
Baudouin nodded.
Desirée looked at Lazare’s injuries and was horrified.
His left arm and lower leg were soaked in blood.
“Are you okay? Should I call a doctor?”
“No. I’m fine.”
Lazare cut her off coldly.
“I can handle it. Once my friend brings back the herbs I asked for, I’ll be—ugh…”
“Why don’t you just go to the castle and get treated?”
Desirée gestured toward the horse she had come on.
The horses Lazare and Baudouin had ridden were nowhere to be seen—likely fled.
Lazare whispered to Baudouin.
“We need to adjust the plan.”
Desirée found the word plan suspicious, but didn’t press.
Given Lazare’s state, he wasn’t an immediate threat—and besides, she already knew he was a spy.
So she pretended not to hear and turned her head.
Baudouin busied himself applying first aid.
Desirée handed over a clean cloth—originally packed in case Ovid got injured, now finding new use.
“Here, use this as a bandage.”
“Thanks.”
First aid was done quickly.
Lazare tried to get up by himself. Baudouin moved to help, but Lazare’s sharp glance stopped him.
Desirée extended a hand.
“Want help up?”
As she pulled him up, she lost balance and fell into his arms.
The scent of grass washed over her.
Startled, Desirée looked up at his ocean-blue eyes. Lazare simply smiled.
“W-What’s with the romantic act…?”
Baudouin’s comment ruined the mood.
Embarrassed, Desirée jumped to her feet.
Feeling awkward, she offered her hand again. Lazare took it and stood up.
Once on horseback, limping, Lazare asked:
“Desirée, aren’t you getting on?”
Desirée froze. She only intended to hold the reins—not ride with him.
If she sat behind, she wouldn’t see the road. If in front, she’d be pressed close—sweat, body heat, and all. The thought was mortifying.
“Is that necessary?”
The words slipped out. Lazare’s smile faded.
This wasn’t a romantic escapade.
Whether in front or back, no matter how handsome he was, it didn’t matter in this situation.
Lazare tilted his head as if to ask What’s the problem then?
Desirée fumbled for an excuse.
“I don’t want to overwork the horse.”
Lazare was tall. Though he looked slim, he likely weighed quite a bit.
In truth, the excuse was weak—plenty of knight orders used double-rider symbolism.
“Then what should I hold onto?”
Lazare muttered.
“There’s a handle in front of the saddle.”
Desirée pointed it out.
Lazare glanced at the handle, then at her, making her flush slightly.
She turned her head, pretending to adjust her hair.
“Hey! You’re falling!”
Baudouin shouted. Lazare’s body leaned dangerously.
Desirée instinctively grabbed him, eyes squeezing shut.
Might as well use this time to talk to him.
Baudouin’s presence was a little annoying, but manageable.
“Move back a little.”
Lazare did as told. As soon as Desirée mounted, he nudged the horse with his good leg.
It understood and started running.
Baudouin shouted something behind them, but the wind drowned it out.
Lazare laughed aloud.
Desirée looked back and scolded him.
“What are you doing? You just left your friend behind!”
“He’ll understand.”
One hand around her waist, the other tied across his chest, Lazare tugged the reins.
The horse slowed.
Baudouin was far behind now, unable to catch up on foot.
“It’s been a while, my love.”
The sudden affectionate term stunned Desirée.
“Haven’t we just met today?”
Lazare narrowed his eyes in annoyance.
Flustered, Desirée searched her memory. But nothing came.
Lazare’s lips curled into a bitter smile.
“I thought you were pretending not to know me, but you really don’t remember?
Then why did you call my name so sweetly?”
“I assumed I heard it from the other mercenaries earlier.
Just like I figured it out when Baudouin called you Theodore and then Lazare.”
Her voice grew smaller. She felt guilty for some reason.
“Didn’t expect you to be so indifferent.”
Lazare looked down at her with sulky eyes.
Desirée turned away, her face flushed.
What am I supposed to do if I really don’t remember?
“Let’s just keep going.”
“What? I can’t hear you.”
Lazare leaned in over her shoulder.
Desirée flinched. He chuckled.
A tense silence lingered.
Desirée looked like she might turn around, but stopped.
Her hesitation only made Lazare more curious.
Suddenly, Lazare brushed her hair aside. His fingers grazed her neck, making her flinch.
“Ah, your hair was brushing my face because of the wind. It tickled, so I moved it. Okay?”
He explained.
Truthfully, he had the urge to kiss her neck—but figured she might shove him off, startled or angry.
Desirée started to speak, then closed her mouth.
He noticed a faint scent of sweat on her skin.
Lazare breathed it in deeply.
Desirée rubbed her neck, avoiding his gaze.
“I tied it up to keep it from flying around.
Sorry if it bothered you.”
Her head turned slightly toward him, but she avoided eye contact.
After checking their surroundings were empty, Desirée spoke again.
“You’re hurt, so this might be too much, but…
I feel like if I don’t say it now, I never will.”
“Say what?”
Desirée sighed.
Though she acted like time was running out, she kept hesitating.
Lazare finally broke the silence.
“What, do you want to have a secret tryst with me or something?”
Some mercenaries did take on… romantic or even illicit requests.
Some even enjoyed them with noblewomen.
But Lazare always refused those jobs, and Desirée didn’t seem the type—
Even after ten years, she wasn’t that kind of person.
“I-It’s not like that!”
Startled, Desirée panicked.
Lazare didn’t hide his amusement.
It was a small revenge for her not recognizing him.
“Then what?”
Desirée pressed her temples, clearly overwhelmed.
She took a deep breath.
And then said something that left Lazare speechless:
“Marry me.”
