The Knight of Clingy Young Ladies

028.

The maze-like corridors of the mansion were mostly indistinguishable, making it difficult to navigate.

If you wandered without care, you’d lose your sense of direction, much like being trapped in a literal labyrinth.

Serasie walked these confusing corridors effortlessly.

It was as though she had a map in her mind; her calm demeanor revealed no hesitation as she strolled along.

“Kalen, the brute-force battle you’re imagining won’t happen—it’s someone else’s job.”

“Are you saying I should just stand by?”

“Yes. At the moment, factions are bound by the frontline. A decisive all-out war might come, but until then, the Hiart Family must fulfill its duty.”

The Hiart Family rules over the Northern lands, even possessing the title of Duke, which entails the responsibility to protect the people of the North.

This is directly related to the outcome of the civil war. It goes without saying that a ruler who cannot protect their people is unnecessary. Therefore, before a critical moment arises, the people’s support must be secured. Serasie wasn’t wrong when she said it was safe within the mansion.

“But we still need protection because there are things happening behind the scenes. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Until now, I only needed to keep an eye on things. Lately, however, it’s been different. Any other questions?”

“No.”

“Hmm…”

Serasie, who had been walking ahead of Kalen, dropped her hands from behind her back and turned her head slightly to glance at him.

“In the North, cold men aren’t popular.”

Amidst her delicate features, a glint of ruby appeared in her eyes.

“Are you upset that I tricked you into coming here?”

“It’s not that.”

“Aha, I see—your personality is just naturally cold, isn’t it?”

For some reason, she chuckled while covering her mouth.

“Anyway, I’ll handle all the complications regarding the civil war. You just need to protect me, Kalen.”

“Miss.”

Serasie, who had started walking ahead again, turned around.

Kalen looked at her retreating figure and asked.

“May I ask one question?”

“But you said there were none…”

“…”

“I was joking~ What is it?”

Kalen had just one question that puzzled him. Even though Cradders, Makbel, and mentions of factions were frequent, he wondered why Serasie—a complete stranger to him—trusted him with such an important role as bodyguard.

Ultimately, it was the same confusion as the first day when Serasie had indirectly refused him, and Kalen asked again.

“At least wouldn’t Cradders do the job? Why choose me specifically?”

“How bothersome.”

“No—”

“There’s no one I can trust.”

“…Should I take that as you trusting someone you barely know?”

“Yes. All those talk of factions and trust, they’re just surface-level.”

Kalen could not see her expression as she walked ahead of him.

“The troops we’ve gathered with great effort are mere opportunists waiting to see who will win. As for Cradders? Who knows…”

“At least I would trust him more than someone like me.”

“Do you think I didn’t have people I considered my own? Of course there were those I thought close enough to trust with my protection.”

Serasie paused briefly to steady her breath before continuing.

“But none of them were there. I don’t want to elaborate because it would take too long; just know that the people I relied on betrayed me.”

Then she lifted her left hand behind her back, extending her index finger.

It was a gesture reminiscent of Blamia teaching magic to Sinat.

“I’m so distrustful of my own people right now that I find someone I’ve never met more trustworthy. That’s all you need to know.”

Perhaps it was a statement that she had been betrayed by those she trusted most in the past.

Given how difficult the situation was, with the family head turning a blind eye to the civil war, such distrust was understandable.

If you weren’t fighting for power, it was natural to align with whoever benefited you the most. After all, choosing the wrong side could cost you your life, and anyone with responsibility couldn’t help but proceed cautiously.

As people grew more cautious, the relationships within the forces became increasingly fragile.

Without trust, the ties that held them together became riddled with flaws.

Kalen continued to gaze at Serasie’s now silent back, wondering if she too felt lonely, despite the different circumstances surrounding them.

Kalen knew all too well the destructive power of deep, lingering feelings of solitude, making it impossible for him to simply ignore her plight.

In the end, though reluctantly, it led him to accept her request. Regardless, it was still a civil war.

He needed to know if Serasie had willingly chosen to isolate herself as part of the civil war, or if she had been swept up into the storm of an unwanted conflict.

“Do you usually think so much?”

“Ah. Sorry. Did you call me?”

“No. I just thought you seemed too serious to approach.”

Indeed, Serasie’s gentle voice was pleasant to hear, enough to pull Kalen out of his deep thoughts at once.

“I called you to pay attention. Since you’ve already agreed, you’re my bodyguard, right? It’s not right to space out when danger is near.”

“Danger?”

“Our destination. The dining hall.”

Now he recalled; he had only been instructed to rise and follow without being told where they were heading.

“We’ll be dining with our trashy older brother and father, so stay alert. If I should collapse from poison, you’d be the only one to protect me.”

She spoke so casually about the threat to her life.

That was Serasie—too perfect that she considered every possibility.

The chance of being poisoned during dinner, an assassination attempt within the mansion, or even the risk of betrayal by those she once thought were allies.

“Let’s go. We’re here.”

Serasie knocked on the antique door that had just appeared and then opened it forcefully.

Indeed, that was it.

Was loneliness a self-inflicted calamity?

Or an unavoidable confrontation necessary for survival?

It was still uncertain.

Kalen let out a faint sigh and gathered his thoughts.

He would soon know what choice he had to make.

—

“It’s about time.”

The dining hall was filled with a chilling coldness. At the head of the table sat a man who could only be called a giant.

The term “giant” is often used to describe someone with great influence or an untouchable level of skill. But in this case, it was different.

The title of Duke of the North suited “giant” perfectly, yet it was his sheer size that was also undeniably impressive.

Azcalc Hiart, the giant who ruled the North.

“Hmph. So there’s still some etiquette left in you. It seems you’ve become rather useless these days.”

A somewhat high-pitched voice for a man, the young man by the Duke’s side remarked.

“Is it the fault of the one who forced such etiquette upon you, Brother?”

“Enough, take your seat.”

Serasie sat across from the youth, responding as if it were nothing new.

Since she had called him “brother,” this must be Toren Hiart, the eldest son of the Hiart family. Kalen guessed as much and stayed behind her.

“Hmm?”

Toren Hiart, who had been about to take a large bite out of his trout, suddenly paused.

“Who is this?”

“This is my bodyguard, Brother.”

“Bodyguard?”

“Because of some person, I can’t sleep peacefully.”

“Mockery aside… isn’t this a face I haven’t seen before?”

The fish was set down, and the youth crossed his arms. His gaze was now entirely focused on Kalen.

“And what’s it to you?”

“It’s my duty as an older brother to make sure my sister hasn’t brought in some oddball.”

The conversation might have sounded like a loving exchange between siblings, if only the words had been taken at face value.

In truth, they were Toren’s remarks to Serasie, and to Kalen, an outsider, it indicated concern or suspicion.

“Meet me after this.”

Toren pointed toward Kalen with his trout-laden fork before stuffing it into his mouth. Juice trickled between his lips, an unappealing sight.

“Protectress of mine.”

Calm Toren and restless Serasie—the two had likely had this kind of exchange more than once.

“Perhaps Toren is right, Serasie.”

Even the Duke, Azcalc, who had been quietly observing the situation, chimed in.

At these words, Serasie hesitated briefly, stifling her voice before responding.

After that, the only sound heard was the咀嚼 of food. Clearly, this meal was staged.

And Kalen, watching everything unfold, realized something.

He understood why Serasie had said the Duke was turning a blind eye to the civil war.

In truth, that statement didn’t quite make sense. A civil war was, after all, a fight to claim the title of Duke, and once it ended, the Duke himself would be in the most immediate peril.

Of course, the Duke had to be stronger, so lacking awareness of potential danger was unlikely. But that was a matter of politics; the notion of one’s own child plotting against their position was not a pleasant one.

Therefore, it seemed clear that Serasie had been hindering Toren’s succession.

From the way the conversation went, it appeared that Duke Azcalc openly favored Toren.

‘Does he have such a strong desire for power?’

Or was there some other reason?

It was unknown, but given the current situation, helping Serasie was the only option. Only then could the Dranunus family’s revival rely on Hiart fulfilling their role.

Thoughts were brief, and actions swift.

Even though there were still gaps in understanding where her loneliness began or exactly how this situation unfolded, one thing was clear: helping Serasie was advantageous.

Kalen had no reason to harbor any other intentions.

“Absolutely not.”

An unexpected voice had interrupted the peaceful dining moment.

Toren, who had been savoring his trout, and Serasie, too, halted their movements.

“…What did you say?”

“The agreement was with Miss Serasie. There was no order to follow you.”

“Calm tone, free of any tremor.”

“Did you dare address me?”

“Yes.”

Toren froze at these words.

When people hear something utterly absurd, their thoughts stop. It was the first time Toren truly understood this phenomenon.

That a mere bodyguard—or rather, someone with thoughts of their own—would dare answer back was unfathomable to him.

What difference did it make that the agreement was with Serasie? Regardless, Toren held a higher rank in status.

“Are you insane?”

“What is it exactly?”

“The agreement is with Serasie yet you refuse to listen to me? Don’t you understand the concept of status?”

Toren stood up, unable to contain his excitement. The expensive chair behind him clattered as he pushed it aside.

“Do you actually consider following a woman, a non-warrior who uses magic, and even your own sister, Serasie?”

“Why must you be so upset?”

“That’s ridiculous! When a higher master appears, you’re supposed to instinctively recognize it!”

Kalen listened calmly and chuckled slightly.

At the absurd sight, Toren became even more enraged.

The irritable demeanor of the Duke’s son seemed unfitting for someone of his stature. The mismatch of his appearance and behavior was laughable.

“Do you fail to see even the strands of her hair?”

Toren shouted, pointing at Serasie’s crimson hair.

Kalen naturally glanced at Serasie, who sat before him. When Toren fixated on her hair, Serasie flinched slightly.

“How could you not recognize such an ominous red? You don’t know how the northerners view blood, yet here she is—with the same fiery hair and eyes!”

Toren’s voice turned coarse, filled with crude insults, as he continued ranting furiously.

Kalen slowly looked at Serasie’s hair again.

Cradders had once spoken to him, telling him about the unique culture of the North.

Could Serasie’s crimson coloration and Toren’s outburst about blood be part of that northern culture?

Kalen tilted his head slightly in puzzlement.

Indeed, because Kalen wasn’t from the North, he couldn’t grasp their culture.

“Blood?”

“Yes! That ominous…!”

“I can’t see it at all.”

What bothered Kalen most was Toren’s attitude. No matter how composed someone might seem, such authority was never going to work.

“To me, it only looks as beautiful as wine.”

Serasie flinched again at Kalen’s words.

“What…!”

“And you mentioned the one who made the contract?”

Kalen wanted nothing more than to crush this arrogant man with magic. They had just met, but Toren’s every mannerism grated on him, leaving no desire to converse civilly.

However, the Duke was still the main concern.

Azcalc Hiart, a true northerner excelling at swordplay and also formidable in magic as befitting a Duke. Although considered the weakest in magical skills among the family heads, his swordsmanship combined with his unique talents made him formidable.

Kalen had noticed when Serasie spoke about the Duke’s neutrality in the civil war. By staying neutral, all minor acts were overlooked, which meant his confrontation with Toren wasn’t without restraint.

Yet, because the line was unclear, directly subduing Toren with magic was impossible. His only option was to suppress Toren with words.

“The one who contracted with Miss Serasie was not me, but Lady Blamia.”

“…”

“Blamia Dranunus. She, Miss Serasie’s protector, is the one who sent me here.”

Kalen looked calmly at Toren as he spoke.

The confidence and bravado Toren had displayed earlier vanished as he mulled over the name of Blamia. His face gradually paled.

“S-Surely, the Great Mage wouldn’t…”

Just as Toren opened his mouth to say something else,

“Krr…”

A low, raspy sound reverberated in the room.

The sound soon swelled into an echo, then roared.

“KHAHAHAHA!!!”

At that moment, everyone’s eyes were drawn to one place.

The Duke, Azcalc, seated at the head of the table, was laughing his head off with his fork still in hand.

“Ha…”

Even after laughing for a while, Azcalc eventually regained his composure.

“Are you Kalen?”

The silvery twin eyes of the Duke focused intently on Kalen. Despite the gaze that resembled a beast’s, Kalen remained unperturbed.

His calm demeanor only intrigued Azcalc further.

Finally revealing his large fangs, Azcalc grinned widely.

“Reputed to be seriously mad, indeed. Uncannily accurate.”

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