Episode : 06
5. The Relationship Between Mistakes and Misunderstandings (1)
You’re in love? Who? With whom?
A young man from some household, gripping the edge of his nose, alternated his wavering gaze between the woman and him.
“Duke Rosanacht…?”
Stunned, muttering things like “This can’t be happening,” he kept apologizing to Chester and bolted away.
Chester, too, was equally dumbfounded. But when Lucien sank to her knees beside him, he was forced to snap back to reality.
“Are you alright?”
“…Sniff… my hand isn’t broken, is it?”
“Was he someone who would consider a thug’s broken nose with mercy?”
There are more important things to think about.
Exasperated, he asked again, and she looked up at him with tears glistening in her eyes.
In that instant, he felt an inexplicable turmoil churn in his stomach, but he frowned and shook off the sensation.
Lucien, on the verge of tears, shouted:
“That bastard… I meant my hand, not him!”
“…Ah.”
Of course.
He inspected her hand formally, as expected. She had struck with proper posture and appropriate force to the correct target—there was no way it should have broken.
…Or so he thought.
“It’s broken.”
“Ugh…”
Is this even human?
Her hand was a complete mess, as if someone had struck it with a solid iron rod.
The human body, far weaker than glass, had suffered catastrophic damage.
He seriously questioned if this was even a human hand, but surprisingly, he decided there was no need to remind a person known as the “flower of the painting” of her frailty.
So, tearing a handkerchief into strips instead of using a bandage, he fixed her hand and gave her a piece of advice:
“Next time, use your forehead or palm instead of your fist to avoid serious injury.”
“Huh?”
“This area. Be careful. If you’re not careful, your wrist might break too.”
No, it’s definitely broken.
He supported her other, unbroken hand and continued advising her. Though she cried in pain, she listened intently, and a weak, trembling smile appeared on her face.
“You’re not telling me not to do it.”
“…Should I?”
“Usually, you would.”
He couldn’t relate. If she hadn’t hit first, she would’ve been hit. Then wouldn’t that be justified?
“Whatever you learned, you learned well. Your posture was accurate. But it would be wise to learn ways to minimize injury as well.”
“I’m glad a professional acknowledges me. I learned from my younger sibling that making a fist this way is the most painful.”
“Professional…?”
A very unique perspective. Usually, people call him a mass murderer, war fanatic, or harbinger of disaster.
Not knowing how to respond, Lucien spoke again.
“Anyway, thank you so much. I’ll be careful.”
With determination, she clenched her uninjured hand into a fist once more, her eyes gleaming.
In a short time, he felt as though he had seen a dozen different expressions on her face. She was the most colorful person he had ever observed.
Her eyes, which had seemed blue at first glance, contained hints of early morning gray.
Distracted by this subtle peculiarity, he missed what she said next:
“And I’m sorry for causing such nonsense. You were probably very flustered being dragged into this…? I’ll take responsibility and make things right.”
…Really.
Unfortunately, because their memories of the first meeting—or the embarrassing incident—differed, as they walked toward the lab, they began spouting nonsense at each other.
“So all of that was just a mistake?”
“Why go that far…? I didn’t have any ill intentions toward Your Grace. No matter who was there—”
“No matter who was there, you would have said the same…?”
Please, check your expression…
Looking at someone whose face made it impossible to answer ‘yes,’ Lucien started losing track of the conversation’s point.
“Spreading that rumor was also a mistake.”
“No, that’s not a mistake—”
What are you saying…? After I tried to fix it…!
Lucien felt deeply wronged.
The story that Chester Rosanacht and Lucien Philonia had been alone on the balcony at night, told by a kid who had been beaten and ran away, was more than enough to become a scandal with every imaginable exaggeration after just one lap around the party.
Lucien Philonia, beautiful but without money, power, or health, and Chester Rosanacht, who had everything but was embroiled with both the royal court and the temple, were already perfect for tea-time gossip.
The truth—that the great war hero had only gotten involved because he was stopped by a lady after hitting someone else’s nose—was hardly believable and of little use.
So Lucien subtly shared a carefully spun story.
A childish and cliché tale of a frail beauty who fell for a duke her age who saved her in a crisis.
As expected, what circulated most was “the lady so refined she doesn’t know the ways of the world.”
And since she was even scouted by Noctua, all public attention on Chester returned solely to her.
“Do you know how much effort I put in to protect Your Grace’s honor?”
As promised, Lucien acted the foolish young lady to the fullest, preventing the disaster her loose tongue might have caused.
Though she was teased by family and even trapped in her room until Dean Aten came, she had done her utmost to preserve his dignity.
“I know. Everything you’ve done.”
‘Then why the frown?’
Pouting, Lucien swept her bangs aside.
As an apology and token of gratitude, she squeezed out a non-existent story of his merit in front of those who disliked Duke Rosanacht.
Although its effect was minor.
And that’s not all.
Even after the rumor mostly died down, she ensured her duty was done.
She had carefully prepared top-tier magic stones, inscribed with high-level protective and barrier spells, and gave them to Chester when he led a winter expedition!
She couldn’t deliver them personally because she fell ill after crafting them.
After all that, he still seemed dissatisfied?
“…So all of that was just to make up for that day’s ‘mistake’?”
“I clearly promised I would take responsibility and fix it.”
Chester raised a hand, as if lost for words, and wiped his face dry.
He let out a low sigh.
“Ha…”
Lucien was dumbfounded by his near despair. What’s wrong?
She knew the sigh well—it was the self-reproach felt when facing one’s own embarrassing history.
She didn’t expect a reward… but treating her sincere effort as if it were some embarrassing incident was another matter.
In frustration, she stepped sideways on the stairs, missing the step.
It was an accident from glancing sideways at a sighing human.
“Ah…!”
“…Lucien?!”
Just as she was about to slam her neck on the stairs, she was caught by arms wrapping around her waist.
The strong, pillar-like arms set her safely on the stair landing.
…Her heart felt like it would leap out of her throat.
Chester, perhaps equally shocked, stared at her wide-eyed.
His eyes, which had seemed dark as the deep sea, were surprisingly clear like a winter lake up close.
His hands, seemingly about to grab her shoulders, paused.
He looked at her as though observing a priceless glass artifact for the slightest crack.
Struggling to find words, he finally asked:
“Your ribs… aren’t broken?”
“You don’t think I’m made of glass, do you?”
“Not…?”
“Are you joking?”
She recalled how he had grabbed her arm and pulled her just before she jumped, enveloping her body.
…It didn’t seem like a joke.
“Take a deep breath. They’d be broken for sure.”
“What do you take me for…? See, I’m fine.”
“That’s impossible. Are you just enduring the pain?”
Ridiculous.
If this were a joke, she’d respond, but he seemed like someone who had never played a joke in his life.
Starting from the very first misstep, it was almost deserved, yet she resolved not to let her already shattered image deteriorate further.
“Thanks to your help, I’m fine. The one in trouble here is Your Grace. Also, I forgot to mention, at Noctua, teachers show respect by calling me Philonia Teacher—”
“Lucien Teacher!!!”
A sharp shout cut off her words.
Lucien turned around, frowning. She was in the middle of restoring his dignity—who could it be?
“Teacher Radehols?”
