TM 08

Chapter 08 …

 Like New Buds

As the master of the estate, he seemed to know the hedge maze like the back of his hand. Without the slightest hesitation, he walked confidently in the right direction.

He adjusted his stride and pace to accommodate the ladies walking beside him. Lorelia tried hard to suppress the uncontrollable excitement bubbling up inside her. Just walking alongside him made her heart swell like a balloon.

“Does that puppy have a name?”

Speaking to him was becoming a little easier now.

“Steel. He was born a month ago.”

“Steel,” she murmured, and the puppy stuck out its snout. Lorelia looked down at the little dog, which whimpered as if it wanted to come to her. The man, walking ahead, glanced down at the scene and said,

“This little fellow has already learned to follow a beauty.”

He smiled lightly at her. At that moment, Lorelia felt a sudden surge of courage and reached out to pet the puppy in his arms.

As the distance between them narrowed, their arms brushed lightly. The woman didn’t pull away, and the man simply matched his pace to hers as if nothing had happened. That small touch, coupled with his calm demeanor, felt to Lorelia almost like a sign of acceptance.

Acceptance? Of what, and by whom? It was a baseless, inexplicable sentiment.

The kennel wasn’t far. As soon as they exited the maze garden, it came into view—a sandy clearing surrounded by a wooden fence. Inside, about a dozen puppies were bouncing around energetically. When the steward tending them spotted the lord, he hurried to open the gate.

“Miss Hayes.”

Holding the puppy in his arms, Ferbrante passed through the gate and gestured for Lorelia to follow. Alicia remained outside the fence, watching them. The wooden fence barely reached her chest.

As soon as the master appeared, the puppies rushed over, wagging their tails. Spotted, black, white—different colors, but all the same breed. Their legs were short, their eyes and ears drooped, and their fur was fluffy. In short—

“They’re so cute!”

Lorelia looked down at the puppies crowding around her feet, flustered. Their enthusiastic welcome made her burst into a bright smile.

“Oh my, just look at those wagging tails.”

“They’re of the Eisenfield breed. Intelligent, patient, and extremely loyal,” he explained.

He set down the puppy he had been holding, then selected a white one and held it out to Lorelia.

“They’ve been raised as sheepdogs in Trisen for centuries. They grow quickly—by six months old, they’re fully grown.”

“Six months? Then these little ones will all be grown in five months?”

“You can practically see them grow day by day.”

Lorelia carefully petted the puppy he was holding in both hands. The little creature, pure white with black eyes, wagged its tail innocently.

“It’s so beautiful.”

“Try holding it.”

Distracted by the puppy, Lorelia looked up. His eyes, looking down at her, were lit by sunlight, clear and deep like a lake.

His eyelashes cast long shadows over his blue eyes. They’re not platinum like his hair, she thought. And his eyebrows are dark, too. She found that curious—and beautiful—as she carefully accepted the puppy. Their fingers brushed lightly through the puppy’s soft fur. His touch was considerate, helping her hold the little creature securely.

Despite its fluffy appearance, the puppy was surprisingly heavy. Startled by the unexpected weight, she swayed slightly, and he supported her arm. His chest was suddenly so close—broad and solid. Lorelia quickly straightened her posture, worried that he might hear her heart pounding so loudly.

They were standing so close.

“It’s… so well-behaved,” she said softly, stroking the puppy’s neck just as he had done earlier. She managed to hold it quite steadily. Ferbrante simply stood there in silence. He neither responded nor stepped back to widen the distance between them.

He stood just a little too close—not touching her, but close enough that she could smell his deep scent.

She could even hear his breathing.

There was no one else inside the fence—just a crowd of puppies at their feet. The steward and Alicia were standing outside, too far away to hear their conversation. Lorelia liked that. She liked being alone with him.

It felt as if something private was about to happen.

“These little ones must be very happy to receive so much love from their lord,” she said, trying to fill the silence with a compliment. But no answer came. She waited, but he remained silent. Just as she was beginning to feel uneasy about his sudden quietness—

“Miss Hayes.”

“Yes, my lord?”

“Do you not know my name?”

Her hand, which had been stroking the puppy, froze.

Lorelia looked up at him. Not know his name? Did I offend him? Unsure of his intention, she replied as politely as possible.

“Of course not. I know your name very well, my lord.”

“Then why do you keep calling me that?”

“……”

“When the daughter of a great noble calls me like one of my own vassals, I hardly know what to do with myself.”

He smiled gently, almost teasing. There was a hint of boyish playfulness in it. Lorelia’s heart raced at this unmistakable sign of closeness.

Not like one of your vassals, then… How should I address you? Lord Ferbrante? Lord Theobald? Or…

Theo.

Just then, the puppy in her arms stuck out its pink tongue and licked her fingers. The rough, wet sensation made her shoulders jolt. He laughed softly at her reaction. His eyes curved gently; his lips, slightly flushed, parted slowly.

“Lorelia.”

Her heart nearly burst.

“You said you wanted to see every corner of my estate.”

“……”

“You’ve seen the golden bath, the maze garden, and now the kennels. Where would you like to go next?”

“……”

“Just say the word. Anywhere you wish to see.”

His voice was very low—almost secretive. He had lowered it to a near-whisper, making it sound intimate.

“I’ll gladly show you everything.”

His voice felt like it was licking somewhere inside her—like that pink tongue. Rough, wet, ticklish. She almost let the words escape her lips.

Theobald. Theobald Ferbrante. I want to see you. I want to know more about you. I’m so curious about who you are.

I want to know you—completely.

“Shall we go?” he said.

Lorelia snapped out of her trance, flustered, breaking eye contact. He extended his hands to take the puppy back.

“It was rude of me to keep a lady standing in a place like this.”

“No, not at all. Thank you for your kindness.”

“Such kind words.”

He effortlessly took the puppy, bent down to place it on the ground, and began walking toward the gate. Black doublet and trousers, knee-high boots—the same outfit she’d seen in the breakfast room that morning. Her heart started pounding again.

“Lorelia.”

They had grown a little closer. They now shared a secret—something deeply private.

Walking beside the man who matched her pace, Lorelia pressed her lips together to stop herself from smiling too widely.

The mansion’s entrance faced due south. Isen had been the royal capital for over a thousand years, and this mansion had served as the royal palace for centuries since its construction. No building in the city dared rise higher than its fortress walls.

The highest point of the estate was the northern tower. From its top, one could see the eastern horizon and the western skyline without obstruction.

Below that tower lay the lord’s archery range.

The young lord of Trisen enjoyed archery. The bow he used was taller than a child and required great strength to draw—an English longbow. The range had been built nearly ten years earlier, with a covered shooting platform and distant targets.

Landscaping trees and hedges surrounded the range, shielding it from outside view. Given the nature of the weapons, no one loitered nearby without reason; a stray arrow could mean instant death.

But as far as the butler knew, the lord had never once missed a target.

“Renier.”

Theobald called in a low voice, raising a crystal glass to his lips. A sip of brandy slipped through them. The butler thought the dark amber liquid resembled the setting sun.

Just like the crimson sunset now bathing his master’s hair.

“Did you see it?”

“……”

“Those eyes.”

Theobald lowered the glass to his chest. The aroma of the brandy numbed his mouth and nose. Even the sea breeze carried its scent.

“Those green eyes.”

Murmuring, he reached toward a landscaping tree. Only he and the butler were in the archery range, as always in perfect stillness.

“They were like new buds.”

His fingers stroked a newly sprouted leaf. Gently rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, he gradually increased the pressure. The tender leaf crumpled, releasing a faint, green scent.

“I never thought they’d be eyes like that.”

He chuckled softly, amused. Renier stood in silence, listening.

“And Kingsburg?”

“I’ve instructed them to notify us as soon as word arrives,” the butler replied carefully, watching his master’s expression. As always, Theobald’s face revealed nothing. He was patient and calculating, but sensitive by nature. If things didn’t go as planned, he was sure to be unsettled. Renier hoped he wouldn’t become unnecessarily irritable.

“It’s almost time to meet the financial advisor.”

“I know.”

The lord answered shortly and brought the glass to his lips again. The butler obediently fell silent. The range returned to silence.

Swish. Faint waves could be heard beyond the castle walls.

A warm breeze blew in from the eastern sea. Renier silently observed his master’s thoughtful face. The setting sun turned his platinum hair a brilliant crimson. His eyes, shadowed by the light, appeared almost black.

The lord remained at the range until he had drained his glass. The butler simply waited in silence for his orders. The garden was quiet at dusk. The man stood like a statue under the lavish sunset. For him, this was the most ordinary of scenes.

Calculating the taxes to be sent to Kingsburg was the most important and troublesome task of the year. By now, Viscount Roth, the financial advisor, must have arrived at the reception hall—but the lord’s glass was not yet empty.

Theobald always kept others waiting. By making them wait, he asserted his position. It was the regal demeanor inherited from his father.

With that thought, Renier lifted his gaze toward the western sky. The scattered crimson clouds were as red as blood. Just another ordinary evening.

Tomorrow, the Trisen estate would see another clear day.