Chapter: 7
“What do you mean by that… ‘to you’?”
Jeanne tilted her head at the expression, as if she were being treated specially.
“I’ve been called ‘Hey, Claude’ for years, and suddenly it’s ‘Your Grace’? It’s giving me goosebumps.”
“Really? I’d be fine with that. But I’ll still use formal address around others.”
“Suit yourself.”
As they talked, Jeanne began to recall what kind of person Claude was.
All the students at the kingdom’s officer academy, except for Jeanne, were either nobles or royalty.
By rank, Claude was a noble, but as the sole heir of Duke Loren, he was in a class far above ordinary nobles—on par with the royalty of other countries.
So when he first enrolled, all the students referred to him as “Young Duke” or “Claude-sama.”
But Claude insisted that, within the school, everyone should treat him as a fellow student and follow the rules.
At first, everyone was awkward. But once Claude approached them without hesitation, the other students soon treated him without reservation.
The highest-ranking noble with a guaranteed dukedom, a relaxed personality, consistently the top of his class except for once during his studies, and strikingly handsome to boot.
He was like a peacock among pigeons—impossible to ignore.
During their school years, Jeanne often thought, Sometimes, it feels like God poured everything into one person.
“Your Grace!”
As she was about to move, two torch-bearing men pushed through the bushes, calling for Claude. Their plain decorations marked them as his subordinates, despite wearing the same uniform.
A towering man, easily over two meters, approached Claude.
“Are you unharmed?”
“No problem.”
The knight exhaled in relief, loosening his stiff expression. Behind him, a ponytailed man slapped the large man’s back with a chuckle.
“See? I told you! Our young master is completely fine…”
He stopped mid-sentence with a sharp gasp.
“My lord! Who is this lady? And… isn’t all this blood?”
“When are you going to stop calling him ‘young master’?”
“That’s not the important thing right now!”
“The one who’s supposed to set an example is the captain of the 1st division…”
“Ahhh! I don’t wanna hear it! I can’t hear it!”
Jeanne looked at the endlessly serious man and the endlessly frivolous one with exasperation, then leaned toward Claude and whispered:
“Are these your knights?”
“The big guy is Vice-Captain Cedric Berto, and the one covering his ears is 1st Division Captain Loren Fines.”
It made sense that Claude wouldn’t come alone, Jeanne thought—but a question suddenly struck her.
Vice-Captain and 1st Division Captain meant they were elite knights.
And yet he had brought them through the forest at this late hour? It would take another four days to reach Loren from here.
There had to be a reason for bringing the kingdom’s finest knights all this way.
“Um, Claude…”
As she tried to voice her question, Claude stepped between the two men.
“Cedric, Loren.”
Unlike when speaking with Jeanne, his voice was low and commanding. Both men froze. Claude didn’t say more, but his gaze seemed to scold them silently.
“Call him whatever you want—young master or Your Grace—but end this now. There’s something more urgent.”
Then Claude beckoned Jeanne to come closer. Understanding that he was introducing her, she stood beside him.
“This is Jeanne Leclerc, a classmate from the academy.”
“Jeanne Leclerc?”
Loren’s eyes widened, and he suddenly exclaimed:
“Ah! Could it be…”
“You know her?”
“Of course! Our young master…”
“Loren.”
Claude cut him off, and Loren froze with a guilty look, silently glaring at Claude for interrupting.
“Why did you cut me off?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Don’t you know I can’t resist my curiosity?”
“I know.”
Claude glanced at Jeanne.
“I was just talking about you.”
“What did you say?”
“That you’re the perennial second place, working yourself to death like a worker ant trying to beat me. Right, Loren?”
“Oh? Ah, yes, that’s right. Ahahaha.”
Loren scratched the back of his head awkwardly. Jeanne was too stunned to notice his reaction.
“Do you enjoy teasing me even when I’m not around?”
“I was just telling the truth. But shouldn’t we hurry? Otherwise, the monsters will smell the blood and come.”
Claude gave a sly smile, his eyes folding slightly. Jeanne wanted to hit him, but held back.
Hold it in. How long will you let him get under your skin for being second? I’m an adult. Besides, if I want to join the knights, I need to get on his good side.
While repeating this to herself, Claude called Cedric and Loren.
“Cedric, take the abandoned bandit over there and give him first aid. Loren, help Jeanne with her things.”
Both nodded and followed Claude’s instructions. Cedric silently carried the bandit left in the bushes, while Loren untied the reins from the wooden post.
Jeanne hurried toward Loren. If she joined the Loren Knights, he would be her superior. Thinking of that, she couldn’t just stand idly by.
“I’m fine, I’ll carry my things myself.”
“Start with this.”
Claude handed her a handkerchief, blocking her path.
“Wipe off what’s on your skin first. Blood can be poisonous.”
“I’m fine. I have resistance. You don’t know this, but I took the monster-handling class in first year.”
At the academy, she had a lesson where they applied monster blood and poison on their skin and had to endure it for three hours.
It was meant to build resistance for battle. Some of the poisons were from cockatrices.
She had gained resistance, but after the class, the areas with poison peeled and took a week to heal. Thankfully, a friend gave her medicine, so she recovered faster. Some students had been sick for two months straight.
“I know.”
“You know?”
Jeanne froze briefly, stunned. She had never discussed this class with Claude before.
“How?”
“Is that important right now? Just wipe it. Are you planning to keep it covered with something good?”
Claude held out the handkerchief. It was true that it needed to be used, but Jeanne noticed it was embroidered with the Loren crest—delicately stitched as if by a master artisan.
“Where did this handkerchief come from?”
“I don’t know. Just grabbed it quickly.”
“That was a special order from Didier Martin, sent by Countess Villar to celebrate the young duke’s succession.”
Loren answered for Claude.
“How do you know that?”
“I overheard it when I was on banquet duty; the Countess was showing it off.”
Even hearing this, Claude offered the handkerchief without a hint of pride.
“Here.”
But Jeanne wasn’t so calm.
“Here? How can you say that!”
Didier Martin was a royal-recognized master of fabrics and lace. Even nobles had to wait at least three years for his embroidery, and a single handkerchief cost as much as a common family of four could live on for three months.
“How am I supposed to use this!”
“Just unfold it and use it.”
“That’s not the point! I’m wiping monster blood with this!”
At times like this, Claude’s ignorance of worldly matters shone through. Jeanne shook her head, stepping back, afraid her bloody hands would stain it.
“Forget it. I’ll just use my clothes.”
“Still disobedient,” Claude said, taking a step closer.
Startled by his closeness, Jeanne barely had time to react before Claude forced the handkerchief onto her face.
She ripped it off in a panic, but the embroidery of the Loren crest was already smeared with bright red blood.
“Hey! What are you doing?”
“See? It’s already on there, so just use it.”
Jeanne could only emit exasperated sounds. Claude chuckled, then muttered quietly as he turned away:
“Don’t make people worry.”
But Jeanne’s deep sigh drowned out his muttering.
After about twenty minutes from where Jeanne intended to camp, they reached a small cabin. Inside, it was already lit by candles, surprisingly bright.
It was much smaller than it appeared from outside—just enough space for two people to lie down, a small table, and two chairs.
As Jeanne set down her things, Claude pointed toward the door.
“Go wash up. If you go straight out, you’ll find the lake quickly.”
“Got it.”
“Any injuries or itches?”
“I told you—I have resistance.”
“Just in case.”
Jeanne gathered her fresh clothes and glanced at Claude.
He still teased her about being second place and bewildered her with the handkerchief, but she could see he was looking out for her.
“We’ve got food we brought for dinner, so we can eat that…”
Why hadn’t she realized before? Claude was clearly more dependable than Alexis.
If it were Alexis, he’d have said: “The smell is bad, stay 500 steps away!”
“Oh, but there’s no separate room here.”
“Huh?”
Jeanne blinked at the unexpected comment.
“You’ll see.”
“Is that okay?”
“For what?”
Claude stepped closer, leaving just a small gap, raised one eyebrow, and alternated pointing at himself and her.
“You’ll be sleeping here together. You and me.”
