His eyes, so dark they appeared almost black in the shadow of the sun behind him, were fixed on Helena as though she were prey.

Under that piercing gaze, Helena unconsciously tightened her grip on her skirt.

“…”

In the heavy summer air, their gazes intertwined like creeping vines.

The man stood motionless, casting a shadow over her.

Droplets of water glimmered in the sunlight as they traced slow paths down his strong neck.

‘Ah.’

As she got her first proper look at his face, Helena’s eyes widened slightly.

His skin was lightly bronzed by the sun.

He had sharp eyebrows.

He had a straight, striking nose.

His eyes were deep-set and shadowed by thick, dark lashes.

Helena was not the sort of woman to be easily impressed by a handsome face.

Having spent years among the nobility, she had seen more than enough attractive men to become indifferent to good looks.

And yet, even by her standards, this man was exceptionally handsome.

Nigel Schuytz Brandt was certainly attractive.

No one could deny that.

But the presence he exuded was something else entirely.

Distinct.

Powerful.

Dangerous.

That was the first word that came to Helena’s mind.

There was an undeniable intensity about him, evident in his gaze, his bearing and even the sound of his voice.

Everything about him radiated quiet authority, naturally commanding attention and overshadowing those around him.

One thing was certain: He was unlike any man she had ever encountered.

After studying her face as though trying to figure something out, he finally spoke.

“Do you intend to stay seated there?”

His deep voice resonated in a low, measured tone.

Taking a step closer, he extended a hand toward her.

It was a large hand, rough and calloused.

“…”

Helena glanced at it briefly before turning her head away.

Ignoring his offered hand, she pushed herself to her feet on her own.

‘Ow.’

A sharp pain shot through her injured ankle.

But Helena concealed it as best she could and straightened her back.

“I’m fine. I don’t need any help.”

The hem of her skirt was stained with mud and hung heavily.

Her steps were unsteady.

Nevertheless, she stubbornly limped forward.

She had no intention of revealing any flustered or vulnerable aspects of her character to a stranger.

“Ha.”

A short, incredulous laugh escaped him.

The man watched her retreating figure for a moment before letting out a faint, unreadable laugh.

There was both irritation and amusement in it.

“If you keep forcing yourself to walk on that ankle, it’ll be swollen twice its size by tomorrow.”

“…”

“Why not just ask for help? You’ll regret it tomorrow.”

Helena bit down on her lip and said nothing.

Apparently, he had completely ignored her insistence that she didn’t need assistance.

He continued speaking from a few paces behind her with relentless persistence.

‘But wait…’

‘This man has been…’

Keeping her lips firmly sealed, Helena walked forward until she finally came to a stop.

“Excuse me.”

She spun around abruptly.

The man’s eyes narrowed.

“How long are you planning to keep following me?”

“Me?”

“Stop following me. I already told you I’m fine. I don’t need your help.”

“I was following you?”

“Wasn’t that what you were doing?”

The man let out a laugh of disbelief.

Running a hand through his damp hair, he replied,

“If it bothers you that much, then stand right there. I’ll walk ahead instead. Would that solve the problem?”

“…”

Helena frowned.

‘He’s really not following me?’

‘But if you continue along this path…’

Still unconvinced, she asked cautiously,

“Where are you headed?”

His answer came without hesitation.

“The Hitchens Estate.”

“What?”

“I said the Hitchens Estate. Now I suppose it’s my turn to ask. Where exactly are you going?”

Helena’s eyes widened.

“I-I’m going there too…”

Then a memory suddenly flashed through her mind.

“I think it was Plimont. Though the master calls him Alex.”

“Alexander Karhen Plimont.”

“That’s right! That was it!”

‘No way.’

Even considering her current state, she shouldn’t have been so absent-minded.

Helena’s face turned pale.

How could she have forgotten everything Mabeline had told her?

Why hadn’t she suspected anything?

Silently scolding herself, Helena carefully parted her lips.

“Your Grace… Duke Plimont?”

The man—no, Alexander—raised a brow.

“You know who I am?”

Helena drew in a sharp breath.

So it was true.

The seemingly impossible assumption she had made was correct after all.

Hurriedly gathering her skirt, she offered a formal greeting.

“Please forgive my rudeness. I am Helena Evans, granddaughter of Count Leon Hitchens.”

“The Count has a granddaughter?”

Alexander muttered under his breath.

“That’s news to me.”

Then his gaze dropped to her ankle.

“By the way, do you intend to keep being stubborn?”

“Pardon?”

Alexander gestured with his chin.

“Your ankle.”

“Ah…”

Helena lowered her eyes and stared at her feet.

“I think it’ll be fine.”

“I disagree.”

Alexander casually extended his arm toward her.

“Stop refusing and take it. At least I’m not telling you to let me carry you.”

After a brief hesitation, Helena placed her hand on his arm.

Refusing again would only be awkward.

She had already committed enough discourtesies for one day.

“…Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it.”

Helena leaned lightly on Alexander’s arm as she carefully made her way forward, one step at a time.

His arm was firm and steady, as solid as stone, and she found that it gave her a sense of support she hadn’t expected.

To her embarrassment, walking became noticeably easier the moment she accepted his help.

All her previous stubborn refusals suddenly seemed a little foolish.

The two of them continued down the forest path, side by side.

The woods were quiet, broken only by the occasional crack of a twig beneath their feet.

Yet the silence between them felt surprisingly natural.

Not awkward.

Not burdensome.

Just peaceful.

After walking for a while, Alexander spoke again.

“You seem to know quite a bit about me. The fact that you haven’t asked any questions gives it away.”

“Wouldn’t it be harder to find someone who doesn’t know who you are? Your reputation is known throughout the entire Pretium Empire.”

“Is that so?”

“They call you the God of War.”

“The God of War…”

A short laugh escaped Alexander.

“Isn’t that a little embarrassing? Not to mention rather irreverent.”

“Really? I’ve seen so many posters praising Your Grace that I’ve become numb to it.”

Alexander turned toward her.

“Posters? Where?”

“In the capital. Praise for Your Grace is plastered across practically every street.”

“Ah…”

His face twisted with immediate displeasure.

“Then I made the right choice coming here instead of staying in the capital. I would have been forced to witness far too many embarrassing things.”

Helena nodded in understanding.

“I was wondering why you chose to stay somewhere as secluded as this instead of remaining in the capital. But I think I understand now. There isn’t a better place to hide from people than here.”

“That’s true. I owe Leon a great debt.”

Glancing up at him, Helena finally asked the question that had been lingering in her mind.

“Your Grace.”

“Alexander.”

Meeting her gaze, he corrected her.

“It’s more comfortable if you call me that.”

“Yes, Al…”

The name refused to leave her lips.

Unable to bring herself to address him so casually, Helena awkwardly trailed off.

Composing herself, she offered a polite smile.

“There’s something I’ve been curious about. How did you come to know my grandfather?”

“If you’re asking about my connection to Leon…”

Alexander began to answer naturally, only to abruptly stop.

After a brief pause, his expression cooled.

“Who knows?”

Helena’s brow twitched.

“‘Who knows’? What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“You seem to know quite a bit about me, but I know absolutely nothing about you.”

A faint trace of amusement colored his voice.

“Don’t you think that’s rather unfair?”

Helena shrugged.

“Really? Didn’t I already tell you my name?”

“I know your name. That’s all.”

His gaze lingered on her.

“Meanwhile, you’ve even seen me without my clothes.”

The moment the words left his mouth, Helena’s face turned crimson all the way to her ears.

“That was—!”

“Was I being too mischievous?”

A smirk tugged at Alexander’s lips.

Feeling inexplicably annoyed, Helena tightened her grip on his arm before immediately letting go again.

“You already know that I’m Count Hitchens’s granddaughter. I think that’s more than enough information about me.”

“Is it?”

Alexander met Helena’s gaze.

The moment he noticed the subtle tremor in her eyes, the corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly.

“I, on the other hand, have become rather curious about you.”