“My lady!”
The moment Astrid dashed into the mansion, Rosana hurried after her, though the unfamiliar long skirt made her run clumsily.
To make matters worse, the area around the main gate was crowded with workers carrying parcels, forcing Rosana to weave in and out and repeatedly halt. When she finally fought her way through and reached the hallway leading into the mansion’s central corridor, there was no sign of anyone.
“So that’s what she meant by ‘keep an eye on her’!”
Rosana finally understood Madam Vasquez’s instructions clearly.
The reason Astrid needed monitoring wasn’t that she was dangerous or plotting something—it might’ve been easier if she were. But Lady Del Ponto was simply dangerously unpredictable.
“Rosana!”
Wiping sweat from her brow, Rosana heard her name called from down the hall. It was Astrid.
“My lady! You can’t just run off like—”
But her gentle admonishment caught in her throat.
Astrid wasn’t alone. Carried bridal-style in her arms was the young man who had been chasing her.
His delicate face leaned against her shoulder, gleaming with cold sweat. Rosana recognized him instantly—women across El Cantador would’ve known that face.
“That’s the heir to the Ortez family!”
“He seems… fragile. Poor thing. He needs to lie down somewhere.”
“My lady…”
Rosana looked at Astrid, suspicion in her eyes.
“…You didn’t assault him, did you?”
“I didn’t do anything! He charged at me and just collapsed!”
Astrid snapped indignantly.
“…Glad to hear you didn’t knock him out.”
Rosana gently sighed. Remembering that a daybed had just been delivered to the first-floor study, she guided Astrid there.
Astrid laid the young man down, then stretched her arms.
“By the way… do you two know each other?”
“Sort of…”
Astrid didn’t finish her sentence, her expression ambiguous—half-annoyed, half-amused. Rosana decided not to pry further.
“My lady, I must return outside. Someone has to oversee the workers. Please stay in this room until I come back. No more running off, alright?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Astrid flopped dramatically onto a single-seater sofa, playing obedient.
“I’ll watch over him until he wakes.”
“Good. I’ll let the merchant team know you’re here.”
Rosana selected a couple of books from the shelf and handed them to Astrid, who opened one right away without protest.
Seeing Astrid engrossed in reading, Rosana quietly exited the study.
“Huff.”
Florian blinked awake. Warm softness pressed against his palms—it was the sofa.
He looked around at the book-lined walls and muslin-covered furnishings—it was all unfamiliar.
His last memory was chasing that pirate woman and collapsing from exhaustion.
Red sunset light streamed through a large window, marking the passage of time.
“You really need to exercise more.”
Florian froze at the familiar voice. He looked up, heart thudding, to see vibrant red curls glowing in sunset.
The woman snapped her book shut with a thud.
“You okay? You were sweating like a fountain.”
She reached out—but his breath caught again. His stomach churned.
He recoiled instinctively—fear remembered but not yet resolved.
What was I thinking? Try to catch someone clearly stronger?
Realizing it was just the two of them there made him even more afraid.
“You…”
He flinched, imagining the worst.
She stepped closer—he could only back away, heart racing.
Then, she placed a hand under his chin, raising it gently. Her gaze held his, and his breath caught—then spoke words he hadn’t expected:
“You’re really pretty.”
Florian’s head spun.
“…What?”
“I didn’t notice before because I was busy…but you’re seriously pretty.”
He’d heard compliments before—but never from someone who’d once threatened him.
“…Now’s your time to say that?”
She furrowed her brow.
“Right, I had something else I wanted to say.”
“Sorry—I forgot while reading. If you have questions, ask me.”
She shrugged, and with that the tension drained from him; his pulse steadied.
“…Where are we?”
“One of the rooms in the Del Ponto estate.”
“…Why are you here? I saw navy guards take you away.”
She shrugged again.
“A lot’s happened. They said I’m to live here from today.”
Who said so? But Florian asked instead:
“And who are you, to be living here?”
She blinked, then sheepishly scratched her head.
“Right—introductions.”
She extended her right hand—but he flinched, recalling how she’d grabbed him.
“Oh,” she said, awkwardly withdrawing it and smoothing her dress, then nodded politely.
Instinctively, Florian rose and returned the bow—the habit of a gentleman.
“I’m Astrid… del Ponto.”
“I’m Florian Ortez… Wait—del Ponto?”
Florian sat back down heavily as confusion overtook him.
Justice for the scene-break: The one who pulled Florian back from confusion was Rosana, who returned, saw he was awake, and quickly arranged a carriage away from the estate. His head still spun, but he was relieved to be out of that room.
Back home, dinner was underway: his father at the head, mother and sisters to his left, his seat waiting at the right.
Mateo insisted the whole family dine together. Florian entered quietly and sat down.
But unlike usual, Father seemed excited—not upset he was late.
“Florian.”
“Yes, Father.”
His deep voice called quietly. Florian tensed.
“You came from the Del Ponto estate, right? I received word.”
“Yes, sir.”
Mateo set aside his utensils, steepled his hands under his chin, smiling with a playful light in his eyes.
Florian recognized that look—and dread filled him.
“You met Lady Del Ponto?”
“…Yes.”
“Introduced yourselves properly?”
“…Yes.”
Mateo smiled warmly. Florian felt the blood leave his face.
That expression—his father always wore it when discussing marriage prospects.
The Ortez family was wealthy but untitled. Mateo’s lifelong dream had been noble status—not achieved yet, but he saw a chance in his son.
He often gushed about marrying into noble families or older noblewomen, smiling lovingly as he pushed Florian onto those prospects.
“The Count of del Ponto’s daughter!”
Father, no stage fright, please.
“What a wonderful match, wouldn’t you say?”
She held a dagger to my throat.
“I hope you two will meet more often.”
Florian felt faint, the memory spinning back in his head.
