Episode 9
But contrary to what everyone expected, Raska stayed calm.
“Ah, I see. I guess he must’ve felt he wasn’t big enough of a man to handle such a wise and beautiful wife and such a cute little daughter.”
Nodding seriously like his own guess was absolutely right, he smoothly pushed his empty bowl forward and added,
“So, could I trouble you for just one more onion soup?”
He’s sharp… and he knows how to keep the mood light.
A mercenary, after all, needs more than just sword skills—he needs people skills too.
Satisfying a client isn’t just about fighting well.
Raska’s friendly personality helped him get along quickly with everyone at the castle—except for Sir Hyder.
Especially with Lotte, he grew close fast.
But Lotte never opens up to strangers first… so why is Raska an exception?
The child acted like she completely trusted him, like they’d known each other for years.
“Milady?”
“Oh—” Celeia snapped out of her thoughts when Raska called her.
Still smiling, he stretched out his hand, palm up, clearly offering to help her down from her chair.
Celeia glanced at that calloused hand—rough and scarred, the hand of a man who held weapons.
“I appreciate the thought,” she said politely, but didn’t take his hand.
Instead, she stepped down on her own.
Watching her, Raska smoothly hopped up onto the chair she’d been standing on, raising himself much higher in an instant.
“So you want all the curtains in this hallway taken down, right?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
At her answer, he started pulling down the curtains.
What Celeia had struggled to do even while standing on a chair, tiptoeing and stretching her arms, Raska managed easily without even reaching too high.
“There are so many windows. You must’ve had a hard time doing this alone.”
He handed her the first curtain he removed, his words light but warm.
Truly, he had a gift for making conversations flow without awkwardness.
“Vera works even harder. She never lets anyone else do the laundry.”
“Ah, yes. She seems like a very determined woman.”
Raska nodded.
It was true—managing a castle this size was no easy task, yet Vera insisted on handling everything herself.
She was stubborn about her pride as the head maid.
“So… have there always only been six of you living in this castle?” Raska asked casually, still focused on his work.
His head was tilted slightly as he tugged down another curtain.
The angle revealed his sharp forehead, strong nose bridge, and the clean line from his nose down to his lips—like a finely carved statue.
“Sir Maximilian was already guarding the castle. Five years ago, Lotte and I moved in. Later, Elaine came from the capital, Vera applied after seeing a servant recruitment notice… and Sir Elden…”
Celeia trailed off.
How should I explain Sir Elden…?
Hiring even one maid had been a stretch.
How could she justify having a knight around?
After a pause, she forced an explanation.
“…Sir Elden was… sent by my former husband. He said, Since I had a daughter, someone should watch over us.”
Even to her own ears, it sounded awkward.
But she couldn’t come up with a better excuse.
Raska—cheerful, straightforward, almost annoyingly so—still didn’t seem like a bad man.
At least, not from what Celeia had seen so far.
But she couldn’t reveal every weakness so easily.
Better to make him think Hendrick is still watching us.
That way, he won’t underestimate me.
So she straightened her back a little more, swallowing her guilt.
“I see,” Raska said simply, his reaction surprisingly mild compared to her anxious effort.
Then he asked another question:
“If I may… Cheringen borders the Kingdom of Teian. Isn’t that dangerous?”
“Oh, luckily that hasn’t been an issue,” Celeia replied lightly.
“Teian’s army did occupy Cheringen five years ago, but they pulled out without causing much harm. They haven’t attacked since. Sure, both sides have troops stationed at the border, but aside from some small skirmishes, there’s been no real fighting.”
In fact, many people found the original invasion strange.
The Teian–Tropez border had always been peaceful.
Sometimes the two sides even held markets together, trading goods.
It was an unspoken arrangement—technically forbidden, but mutually profitable.
“So it’s safe to say Teian won’t be invading again anytime soon,” Raska muttered casually as he pulled down another curtain and stepped off the chair.
“—!”
For a second, Celeia and Raska nearly bumped into each other.
Their bodies were close, and she caught the faint scent of him—fresh, vibrant, strong.
His broad shoulders and firm build radiated life and warmth.
“Sorry,” Celeia said calmly.
“No, it’s my fault for being clumsy,” Raska replied, smiling sheepishly.
His expression was gentle, even a little shy, yet there was something about his eyes—easy, charming, but not careless.
…Is it just because he’s so handsome that I feel this way?
She found herself staring a bit too long before finally stepping back.
Raska retreated too, still smiling lightly.
He’s taller than I thought.
Now that she was up close, she realized—he was actually much bigger than he seemed.
He must’ve been deliberately lowering his posture, keeping himself from standing out.
“Well then, shall we move on to the next curtain?”
“Yes,” Celeia replied with a faint smile.
And so, they kept working together.
Soon, a pile of heavy curtains grew at their feet.
“This is the last one,” Raska said, giving a spirited shout as he yanked it down.
The sun poured freely into the hall, bright and dazzling.
Dust motes floated in the air, glittering like stars.
“Thanks for the help,” Celeia told him as he climbed down.
“Think nothing of it. Just a light workout for me,” Raska grinned, easily lifting the chair with one hand.
“Where should I put this?” His slightly tanned face glowed in the sunlight, almost blinding.
Celeia placed the chair neatly back in the room, then joined him as they carried the curtains to the back courtyard—Vera had ordered they be hand-washed.
“They’re not too heavy? Want me to take some?” Celeia asked, glancing at his thick, muscular arms.
Raska blinked in surprise, then chuckled.
“This? Not heavy at all. If I had to share this load with you, it’d mean I should be back in bed recovering, not working.”
His playful remark made Celeia smile faintly.
“You don’t realize how much help you’ve already been to this castle, Raska.”
She spoke with genuine gratitude.
Walking slowly, Raska glanced at her, shrugging lightly.
“Well, I’m glad I’m useful. Honestly, nothing feels better than proving you’re needed.”
“I’m sure you’d be valuable anywhere you went.”
“Not necessarily.”
He let out a short hum.
“My family never seemed to think so.”
Celeia glanced up at him, but his expression was calm, as if he’d just mentioned the weather.
“Life’s tough for mercenaries. Most of us don’t have families worrying about us—that’s why we can throw ourselves into dangerous work without looking back.”
He spoke of his hardships so casually, almost like small talk.
By then, they had reached the courtyard.
Celeia only realized it after stopping in step with him.
“Oh, there’s young Lady Lotte.”
Before they even reached Vera, they spotted her daughter first.
Lotte was crouched in front of the vegetable garden.
Raska gave a playful knock-knock sound with his tongue.
“Knock knock—”
Lotte turned her head.
“Mom? Raska?”
Her big eyes flicked from Celeia to Raska, then back to Celeia again.
Her face showed surprise… but also happiness, and some strange, unspoken expectation.
And before Celeia could ask about that expression, Lotte spoke first.
