An elderly butler greeted the Ortez Company’s party at the front gate. As Florian looked around uneasily, the butler spoke up.
“Are you here to see the young lady?”
“Ah, well…”
Florian nodded vaguely. He was here to see her—sort of. Pushed into this by his father, he’d come with the intention of not seeing her if possible. That way, he could both obey his father and keep himself safe.
Whatever his hidden intent, today’s official task from his father was to supervise the delivery of goods to the Del Fonto estate. Nowhere in that task did it say “sit down for tea with the lady of the house.”
“I shall escort you to the young lady.”
But the butler seemed to interpret Florian’s hesitant answer as confirmation. With a kind smile, the old man beckoned.
“This way, please.”
“N-No, it’s really fine. I just need the delivery count checked, and then I’ll be leaving.”
“There’s no need for that. I’ll have someone confirm the goods. Why don’t you rest a moment before heading back?”
Florian insisted it wasn’t necessary, but the butler apparently took it as polite modesty and led him deeper into the mansion.
Normally, a drawing room would be located near the entrance, but the room he was guided to was unusually far inside—closer to the back entrance than the front. The butler sat Florian by a window-side table, saying tea would be brought out shortly.
Just then, a glint of metal flashed beyond the large window. Florian looked outside, almost absentmindedly.
A red-haired woman in a house dress held a dagger, and a brown-haired woman in trousers and a training uniform wielded a longsword. Their movements were lightning-fast, dashing in and out with repeated, fluid exchanges.
Florian could only stare.
The dagger user made up for her shorter reach with speed and agile footwork, while the longsword user excelled at deflecting and countering. It was an intense sparring session, dazzling enough to make one forget to breathe. The sun gleamed on their blades.
Florian had always been physically weak. Not from birth, but ever since a serious illness during a long voyage in his childhood—so his father said—his health had declined.
A frail heart, oversensitive nerves, occasional headaches.
Because of this, he’d been forbidden from most physical activity as a child. No running, no swordsmanship, no roughhousing…
Thankfully, he had little interest in such things, and they weren’t necessary qualities for the heir of a merchant company.
Still, repeatedly collapsing after just one dance at his father’s social gatherings had been a personal source of stress.
So now, watching two women duel like dancers in the sun—Florian couldn’t help but feel a sort of vicarious thrill.
He didn’t even notice the butler return with tea and snacks, still staring out the window.
A shaded drawing room. Himself, seated. And beyond the sunlit garden, that woman—moving, sweating.
Only a thin pane of glass separated them, but Florian felt an immense distance. The maid wielding the sabre was impressive, but Astrid, fighting evenly despite her dress and dagger, looked like someone from another world.
Well, she was from another world.
“The world of crime, that is…”
And for a criminal world, the sunlight was quite beautiful. After kicking up dust for a while, the two stopped. The duel seemed to be over.
Sensing his gaze, Astrid approached the window.
“Hey, young master!”
She flung the window open from the outside.
“What brings you here today?”
Florian found her brazenness astounding. As the heir of a major merchant house, he didn’t know how much respect he owed this suddenly-minted noblewoman. Flustered, he responded curtly.
“What else would bring a merchant heir? A delivery.”
“Oh, the dress fabric?”
“Yeah. Uh… there wasn’t any white fabric in the order. Aren’t you going to the debutante ball?”
As they spoke, Florian placed a hand over his chest. Fortunately—or not—his heart wasn’t racing from fear.
That his body wasn’t panicking was a good thing, but the fact that he was calmly chatting with his former kidnapper made Florian feel detached from himself.
“What’s white got to do with the debutante ball?”
Astrid turned to Rosana with the question.
“At a debutante ball, it’s tradition for the young ladies to wear white dresses.”
“Ah… I think the one they said they’d alter for me is white. That should be fine, right?”
Astrid leaned her elbows on the window sill and rested her chin on her hands.
“You coming to the ball too?”
“Ah, no. I’m not a noble, so… no need.”
The truth was, he couldn’t go even if he wanted to. But Florian dodged the subject. Beads of sweat glistened along Astrid’s jawline.
“That’s a shame, Rosana. Where will I find a partner? Can’t you be mine? You are a knight.”
“My lady, a debutante’s partner must be a dashing gentleman.”
“But where else will we find one as good as you?”
“If only I couldn’t speak, then I’d at least look the part,” Rosana said playfully with a glance.
When Astrid mentioned needing a partner, Florian felt grateful he didn’t have a title. If he did, she probably would’ve had him sign a partner agreement right then and there.
Ironically, it was because he didn’t have a title that he was now being pushed around by his father like this…
“But I feel like if I just sit still, His Majesty will find me someone.”
“I’m sure he will,” Rosana replied.
The mention of the emperor—the Sun of the Empire—from Astrid made Florian’s mind whirl.
This girl is connected to the Emperor. That’s why she’s still alive.
The Ortez Company works for the imperial court. His father frequently visits the palace. There’s no doubt he snapped up rumors about Lady Del Fonto like a hungry dog.
Finishing his thoughts, he looked up—and found Astrid staring at him.
“What? Why are you staring at me?”
“Isn’t it too dark in there? Why don’t you come outside? The breeze feels great.”
“I’ll pass. My skin gets irritated in the sun…”
Florian wished there was at least a window frame between them. Even though the window was open, the wall had offered a small sense of safety until now. His excuse, at least, wasn’t entirely false.
He had a skin condition that made him wear long sleeves even in summer to avoid getting rashes.
“There are people like that?” Astrid whispered.
Rosana pulled her aside to whisper back.
“My lady… the Ortez heir has a lot of health issues.”
“How do you know?”
“Everyone in the capital knows.”
The distance between them wasn’t far, so Florian heard the whisper clearly.
He rested his chin on his hand and looked away, pretending not to hear. He was used to people gossiping about his looks or health. And if Astrid knew how fragile he really was, maybe she’d stop pestering him.
“Then I’ll come in.”
Without warning, Astrid gripped the window frame and vaulted inside.
Florian was so startled by the sudden movement that he fell over backward with his chair.
Astrid hurried to help, grabbing both his hands and pulling him up.
“Heave-ho!”
“Can you please stop doing things like that?!”
Standing upright again, his face pale, Florian shook her off.
“Are you really Lord Del Fonto’s daughter?”
“If you mean Fausto the sailor—yes.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Think what you want. I am my father’s daughter.”
Her eyes glistened with affection and pride for her father.
“Wow… this girl really does live in a completely different world from me…”
His mouth tasted bitter. Even though it wasn’t a real taste, he instinctively downed the cold tea like he was trying to wash it away.
“I’ll be going now.”
“So soon?”
“The delivery’s done. No reason to stay longer.”
He answered sharply and reached for his coat.
“Come visit again.”
He had been deliberately avoiding her gaze, but that made him look back at her in disbelief.
“What would I come here for? You’re not even pretty.”
“You’re the pretty one.”
His head spun. His heart began pounding erratically. Must’ve been a delayed reaction from falling earlier.
“I’m not allowed out right now. And in the capital… you’re the only person I know. I’d really like it if you visited again.”
Florian left the estate without another word.
