Chapter 1.2

Damsel Manor was in an uproar.  

“Did you hear? The visitor is the Duke of Biente.”  

“The Supreme Commander of the Monster War, the Iron-Blooded Duke is here!”  

“That woman, no, that lady was the Duchess!”  

The truth came out that the Duchess of Biente had run away with Cherilian after misunderstandings with her husband, the Duke.  

What shocked the people of Damsel even more was the Duchess’s resourcefulness in evading the Iron-Blooded Duke for seven years.  

The Duke of Biente’s purpose in visiting was said to be to reclaim his wife and son.  

Tina secretly spied on Cherilian’s father.  

Towering over the manor’s knights, with broad shoulders and a perfectly tailored uniform, the Duke of Biente was strikingly handsome and impressive.  

His lips were tightly shut except when necessary, and his heavy presence was quite intimidating.  

Compared to Cherilian, who often smiled at Tina, there was no resemblance besides hair and eye color.  

“Nobody can take Cherilian away!”  

Tina bravely confronted the Duke of Biente.  

“……”  

The Duke looked down at her with a blank expression, but Tina stared back confidently.  

Unable to stop Tina in time, her nanny looked as if her eyes would pop out. She rushed forward, nearly fainting.  

“I’m sorry, Your Grace! Our Lady isn’t usually so wild…! Sorry, she’s definitely not a monster, she’s the young lady of the Damsel Viscount Family…!”  

When the Duke raised his palm, the nanny fell silent as if she were a honey-eating bear. By Tina’s head, a slow, heavy voice fell.  

“What’s your name?”  

“Tina Damsel, and I’m Cherilian’s friend.”  

It was an introduction that ignored all etiquette. Tina’s tutor could be seen gripping her neck in frustration from the manor window.  

It was because Tina had stepped forward in front of His Grace, but Tina herself thought the problem was her improper introduction.  

Realizing her mistake too late, Tina grabbed her skirt with both hands and quickly bent and straightened her knees.  

“Nice to meet you.”  

Despite the polite gesture, her expression and tone were still full of anger.  

“My son’s friend… I see.”  

The Duke of Biente looked down at the child coldly. His impression was truly frightening.  

But brave Tina glared for Cherilian’s sake. Her round eyes tried to turn triangular, but it wasn’t enough to look scary.  

“Tina Damsel.”  

Surprisingly, the Duke of Biente offered a faint smile.  

“I’ll remember you.”  

“…For what?”  

“Tina!”  

Pat, pat, came the sound of light footsteps, and Tina blinked at the small back that blocked her view.  

Looking at the dark red-haired boy’s head, she thought, ‘I’m still taller than him,’ a random thought.  

“Your father isn’t cruel enough to bully a young lady, Cherilian Biente.”  

At this, Cherilian retorted sharply.  

“Anyone who makes my mother sad isn’t my father.”  

The affairs between adults, exchanged in just a few words, were still too difficult for young Tina to understand, but not for Cherilian, it seemed.  

“Your Grace.”  

With the arrival of Cherilian’s mother, Tina grew even more confused.  

Unable to bear the tense atmosphere, the nanny muttered apologies like prayers for protection and quickly scooped Tina up, covering her mouth and escaping the scene.  

“Put me down!”  

Tina flailed her arms and legs towards the three Bientes. For a ten-year-old girl, small for her age, the nanny easily ignored her struggles.  

That day, Cherilian and his mother were taken away from Damsel by the Duke of Biente.  

The faces of Cherilian’s mother, grim with anger, and Cherilian, looking very displeased, stayed in Tina’s memory for a long time.  

“Cherry, Cherry…!”  

She cried so much watching the departing Biente family carriage.  

She wished she had clung to the Duke of Biente, who was scary but maybe not so scary after all, and begged him not to take Cherilian away.  

Forced to part with her childhood friend, Tina refused to eat for days and didn’t speak to her nanny for a week.  

Only her parents and brothers’ desperate pleas helped her recover.  

The Damsel Viscount couple paid a hefty sum to send Tina’s letter to the Biente mansion. Two weeks later, Cherilian replied.  

Cherilian’s mother had somehow resolved her misunderstanding with her husband.  

Cherilian wrote that he had become the official heir of the ducal family and was now attending lessons and sword training.  

The two continued to exchange letters frequently.  

After finishing his family lessons, Cherilian entered the capital academy. Every summer, he spent five weeks of his two-month vacation at Damsel.  

“Hi, Tina.”  

It was only five weeks a year, but Tina looked forward to that time more than the autumn harvest festival in her territory.  

More than eating her fill of apple pie at the festival, seeing Cherilian’s face, holding his hand, walking together, and chatting made her feel fuller.  

With each passing year, Cherilian grew more impressive. Watching him change from a boy to a man, Tina sometimes found him unfamiliar and awkward.  

They no longer held hands, nor could they be alone together in a private room. Cherilian, whose height had grown by a hand’s width each year, was now so tall Tina had to look up at him.  

His broad shoulders, calm eyes, and muscular body made him look truly knightly.  

He became more taciturn. He had always spoken less than Tina, but now he truly seemed like a ‘knight’.  

Sometimes, he even avoided Tina. Yet every summer, he still visited Damsel Manor, though Tina secretly worried he might forget his childhood friend.  

“Tina. I’d rather you didn’t watch when I’m using the training hall.”  

Who said adolescence was a stormy period? At the slightest disappointment, tears would come, and it was easy to feel wronged—a sensitive, delicate time.  

“Do you hate me now? You barely talk to me, sometimes avoid me. Is it because I’m a country girl? You don’t even try to be close to me!”  

Tina rarely cried. She was a young lady showered with love, living a peaceful, half-pastoral life, with hardly any worries—except for her drifting childhood friend.  

Her big eyes welled up, and soon a tear dropped.  

“T-Tina?”  

Cherilian panicked. Wearing his training clothes, he had no handkerchief, and fumbled around in confusion.  

His usual calm, mature demeanor vanished, and Tina found his flustered state oddly satisfying.  

“That’s not it at all. I don’t know what you misunderstood…”  

Tina rubbed her eyes with her sleeve, then glared at Cherilian. He sighed in frustration and gently tugged her sleeve, suggesting they go wash their faces.  

“Hold my hand.”  

Tina knew she was being unreasonable, but she hadn’t tried to hold his grown-up hand either.  

Cherilian flinched slightly, but didn’t refuse.  

For the first time in ages, they held hands. Tina was surprised by the feel of Cherilian’s palm—hard and rough, not yet fully calloused.  

His hand was so big and warm that Tina forgot why she had cried out of hurt feelings, pressing her lips together. Embarrassed, she wanted to run away again, but instead, she stole a glance at Cherilian’s face as he walked a half-step ahead.

His soft, plump cheeks seemed to gradually dry and become thinner. As the years passed, the shadows deepened around his eyes.  

The gentle features, inherited from his beautiful mother, slowly faded, and he began to resemble the strikingly handsome Duke Biente, whose image was etched in memory.  

Tina pressed her free hand to her chest. The inside of her ribs felt strangely ticklish.