chapter 06
“You don’t need to apologize. It’s not your fault that you’re not used to being addressed by your family name, is it?”
At those unexpected words, Eatrice lifted her head.
“I came here as your commanding officer—to commend your actions.”
Commend?
Eatrice blinked. It was a word she had never heard directed at her before. As unfamiliar as her own surname.
“I heard you were the first to notice the gargoyle swarm approaching from the western flank of the camp—and that you led the charge.”
“……”
“They say the entire camp might have been in danger, if not for you. That thanks to you, we held our ground.”
Eatrice could only stare with her mouth slightly open, unable to respond. She couldn’t fully grasp what she was hearing.
Even when he told her there was no need to apologize, she remained kneeling. Adrian approached, gently helping her to her feet, meeting her eyes.
“Well done. It was all thanks to you.”
Only then did Eatrice look her lord in the eye properly.
Adrian’s eyes were a mysterious hue, as if they pulled you in—like the sky on the verge of dawn.
“…Ah.”
Meeting the warmth in his gaze, Eatrice reflexively looked away.
“It was the first time.”
And that’s why—why her thoughts slipped out unbidden.
“The first time I’ve ever been praised as a knight… or called by my family name.”
Not a bastard, a half-blood, or the disgrace of a ducal house—but “Bellanel.” That was why she hadn’t responded right away. It was her own surname, yet it felt so unfamiliar.
She couldn’t believe her efforts had been acknowledged. A woman, with no divine or magical power, and of a neutral affinity—she had resigned herself to never being recognized as a knight. She had always believed it was a realm she could never reach, no matter how hard she fought or how fiercely she struggled.
‘And yet… deep down, I could never truly give up. That was what made it so painful.’
While Eatrice stood lost in emotion, unable to find the words, the prince spoke first.
“You must’ve been surrounded by petty, small-minded people.”
Startled, Eatrice looked up again, and Adrian smiled faintly. The cold features on his face softened entirely with that smile.
“People who didn’t acknowledge you and left you isolated. Shameless creatures, really.”
He stepped closer as he continued, the dazzling sunset behind him casting Eatrice’s silver hair in golden light.
“That family name you should have heard as a matter of course… I’ll call it for you, over and over, until you’re tired of it.”
“Your Highness will?”
“Because you are my knight.”
He said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world, smiling again.
“Sir Eatrice Bellanel.”
He spoke her name slowly, tenderly—as if reciting an old love letter.
As his voice, wrapped in the wind, brushed past her ear, Eatrice instinctively clenched her fists.
‘Why…?’
The moment she realized that this gentle address was meant for her, her heart sank like a stone.
It was right. It was how she should be called.
‘So why does it feel like this?’
Just hearing it sapped the strength from her body. Her heart crumbled, and she couldn’t mask her expression anymore.
She clasped her trembling hands tightly in front of her. The strange warmth spreading in her chest left her shaken.
And at the same time—guilt surged.
She couldn’t meet his eyes anymore. She wanted to run.
But at the same time—
‘I want to hold onto this strange, painful feeling just a little longer.’
The feeling that outweighed her guilt was joy.
Joy so sharp it made her chest ache.
The blood-soaked, heavy armor didn’t feel burdensome anymore. Even the sword that had once blistered her hands felt light.
He was her enemy—for now.
But for the first time, she felt an overwhelming desire to become his true knight someday.
‘I want to survive in this desolate northern land… and stay by his side, for a long, long time.’
She slowly lifted her gaze, taking in the scene before her.
A momentary sun piercing through the northern clouds. The crimson-tinted landscape. The imperial black cape fluttering gently in the wind.
And, in that miraculous scene, the violet eyes of her lord, looking only at her.
It was the day she vowed to become his knight—not for survival, not on Hedon’s orders, but of her own will.
‘A memory I will never forget.’
Even if her sword rusted, even if her last breath left her, this memory would remain.
Eatrice engraved it inside her eyelids like a sacred keepsake.
And when she opened her eyes again, Louis was there.
“Lady Bellanel?”
Still caught in the vision of the past, Eatrice snapped back to her usual impassive expression as soon as her name was called.
“Speak. I’m listening.”
“I wanted to apologize to you, Lady Bellanel.”
Louis took a step closer and continued.
“My information was delayed—I didn’t know there were two daughters of House Bellanel. I committed a grave discourtesy. As the heir to the Eurean Tower, it was improper of me.”
Placing a hand over his chest, Louis bent one knee slightly and gave a perfectly formal bow.
“It’s late, but allow me to introduce myself. I’m Louis Eurean.”
“I’m Eatrice Bellanel.”
Eatrice responded with a polite curtsy, lifting her skirt slightly.
But his next question caught her off guard.
“When did you begin learning swordsmanship, Lady Eatrice?”
He wasn’t asking if she had learned—he was certain. His tone acknowledged her skill as that of a trained knight.
“Swordsmanship?” she echoed.
Eatrice didn’t shy away from his piercing golden gaze. Instead, she returned a question of her own.
“Do you think I would’ve had the opportunity to learn swordsmanship?”
“In the Empire, it’s rare—but not impossible—for women to train in the sword.”
Louis shook his head lightly, his gaze steady.
“That speed and decision-making… they weren’t the reactions of someone wielding a sword for the first time. Honestly, I wouldn’t believe you even if you told me you were a trainee. Your movements were on par with a proper knight.”
“……”
“Besides, I’ve never seen swordsmanship like yours. At a glance, you follow textbook form, but there’s something unconventional about it. That’s why I suspect you’re self-taught. Am I right?”
‘He really is the Tower’s successor, after all.’
In that short moment, Louis Eurean had deduced more than a few things.
Eatrice’s early training had come briefly from Hedon and Joseph—but it hadn’t lasted long.
With no divine or magical power, Eatrice had focused purely on physical movement. Their sword styles were crude in comparison.
‘So I learned real swordsmanship in battle.’
Every opponent she fought had become her teacher. The techniques she honed became uniquely her own.
“In fact, I’d like to ask you something. I heard you’re a mage—but do you, by chance, also practice swordsmanship?”
She shot the question back, sharp and direct. Louis chuckled, clearly amused.
“I’m a harmless mage who knows nothing about swords. My deductions come from experience—thanks to spending time around academy students.”
His eyes crinkled as he smiled. Then he took a step forward.
“Our first meeting wasn’t ideal… but I’d like to get to know you better, Lady Eatrice.”
Despite her lack of reaction, Louis’s eyes sparkled as he made his proposal.
“Next time we meet… could it be as friends?”
His tone and manner were flawless. Polite and proper. But Eatrice couldn’t easily accept such a proposal. Her mind raced, analyzing his intentions.
‘It’s a fact that, publicly, I’m far less prominent than Hedon.’
If House Eurean was trying to forge ties with a duke’s house, she was not the advantageous choice.
In fact, if Louis had noticed the enmity between her and Hedon, this offer was closer to a bold move than a strategic one.
Hedon was, for now, the presumed heir to the duke.
And yet here was Louis, offering friendship while openly ignoring Hedon. It was bold, almost reckless.
‘Doesn’t seem like he’s joking…’
There was no trace of flattery or mockery in Louis’s lemon-colored eyes. Which made it harder to read him.
‘Maybe Louis Eurean lacks the strategic finesse people say he has?’
Though he was famed as an archmage in her previous life—there was no guarantee that still applied now. Fame and skill didn’t always align.
‘Perhaps his magic is exceptional, but his social discernment is lacking?’
But for the successor of the Mage Tower—a role requiring political acumen, flexibility, and the ability to lead a variety of mages—that seemed highly unlikely.
“Did you not anticipate the nature of my relationship with Hedon?”
“I did. It’s quite obvious.”
Louis nodded without hesitation.
“Then why offer something like this?”
Eatrice narrowed her eyes at the pink-haired boy.
“Because your relationship with Lord Hedon is so dreadful, I thought this would be the perfect time to make the offer.”
Louis shrugged as if it were obvious.
“And why is that?”
“If you’re not my friend, I can’t tell you. I’m too scared you’ll spill my secrets.”
“…What?”
“What if you go around gossiping about me? Believe it or not, I’m very sensitive.”
Louis added that with a mock-sorrowful sigh. When he lowered his gaze, his thick golden lashes cast delicate shadows—like cherry blossoms blooming above his eyes. It was a strikingly beautiful sight.
But to Eatrice, it looked like nothing more than a calculated performance to hide his true thoughts.
She couldn’t bear to watch him play coy any longer.
“I’d like that too. To see you often—from now on. As friends.”
Eatrice said it bluntly. Though her tone was biting, Louis brightened immediately as she dropped formal speech and spoke in the common tongue of the continent—a sign of familiarity.
She tilted her head slightly, as if telling him to answer quickly.
Smiling at the gesture, Louis tapped his temple with a fingertip.
Eatrice frowned slightly, unsure of his meaning.
Then, with a radiant smile at the corners of his lips, Louis said—
