Fate Betrayed Me - ✿ dusk blossoms ✿

Eyes as clear as ice-cold glass, their yellow hue piercing, stared at him as if trying to read his thoughts.

Thierry stiffened, placing both hands on his thighs and sitting up straight. At that, Aveline let out a small chuckle.

“You’re unusually well-behaved today.”

‘That’s exactly what I was going to say.’

Thierry swallowed the retort that nearly slipped out.

Noticing the knight’s continued stiffness, Aveline suddenly changed the subject, as if something had just come to mind.

“I heard it’s been almost ten years since you joined the Order of the Snowfield Knights. Is that correct?”

Why is she asking that?

Thierry glanced at Aveline suspiciously, as if trying to gauge her true intentions, before answering reluctantly.

“Yes, to be precise, it’s been a little over eight years.”

“You must have been quite young. That was a swift decision.”

“Well, it’s nothing compared to His Grace. When he received his title and came to the North, he was only thirteen.”

“Kazerre didn’t come to the North of his own will.”

“Of course, that’s true, but…”

‘Why am I even having this conversation with her? No, more importantly, are we even supposed to be speaking so casually?’

That fundamental and primal doubt trailed off at the end of his sentence.

But Aveline didn’t give him time to dwell on it. Another question followed immediately.

“Did he fare well in the North?”

“…Pardon?”

Caught off guard by the abrupt question, Thierry’s eyes widened. Seeing the dumb expression on his face, Aveline let out a short, incredulous laugh and clarified,

“I meant Kazerre, not you.”

“No, I never thought you were asking about me.”

‘Even if I were an idiot, would I really confuse the subject of that question?’ Thierry hastily waved both hands in denial of her misunderstanding.

Still, he was just as shocked by the fact that Aveline had asked about Kazerre.

Especially in that wistful tone he had never heard before, as if inquiring after a long-lost lover.

It felt strange.

To him, Aveline was nothing more than a sorceress obsessed with tormenting his lord. It was as if she constantly schemed to find new ways to drain him dry.

The knights had spent months in anxiety, watching their lord’s face grow paler and more gaunt despite his triumphant return.

Eventually, within less than half a year of their return to the capital, just hearing her name made every knight instinctively grimace.

And yet, the woman before him now showed none of that malice.

Thierry found that deeply unsettling.

“Sir?”

“Ah, my apologies. Uh, well, that is…”

How was it, again? Thierry forced himself to sift through his jumbled thoughts.

Kazerre had arrived in the North as the “Duke of Evuteren” shortly after the previous duke lost his life fighting demonic beasts.

The greedy noble branches had no qualms about sending the thirteen-year-old boy to the battlefield. Though the knights desperately tried to protect their young lord, he was forced to take up a sword and charge into the front lines within just two years.

Thus, when fifteen-year-old Thierry first met Kazerre, the latter had already become a man who could take a life without hesitation, his face eerily composed.

Thierry had been captivated by his lord’s silent endurance—his ability to shoulder his duty without complaint and forge ahead with unwavering resolve.

He had joined the Order of the Snowfield Knights, believing, without a doubt, that Kazerre would lead him forward as well.

“With all due respect, even when I first joined, His Grace was already a leader worthy of admiration. He was always solemn and rational, sometimes to the point of seeming cold, but his dedication to the North never wavered.”

However, when Kazerre fell severely ill one day, Thierry finally understood.

Kazerre wasn’t impossibly strong—he was simply gritting his teeth and enduring.

He had held out for so long that, when he finally reached his limit, his body collapsed as if a dam had burst.

A life spent in the heart of the battlefield. Watching Kazerre, Thierry saw firsthand how such a life could wear a person down.

What did it take to turn a boy into a man overnight?

How cruel and merciless was that process?

Every time Thierry recalled those years, he couldn’t help but feel sorrow for his lord.

That was why Thierry had always been weak when it came to Kazerre.

Anyone would be if they had seen a boy swallowing his pain and enduring countless nights alone.

“Still, when I first met him, he still had some traces of boyhood. It’s hard to imagine now, but there was a time when the northern winds were so harsh that he fell gravely ill…”

As Thierry reminisced, one forgotten memory after another surfaced.

Then, suddenly, he fell silent. Aveline, who had been listening with her gaze slightly averted, appeared deathly pale.

Her face was so bloodless that his heart dropped.

A sudden, overwhelming sense of having said something terribly wrong gripped him. Flustered, he rushed to take back his words.

“The, well, overall, he was doing very well. The illness only lasted for a short while in the beginning, and after that, he was in perfect health.”

As the conversation suddenly took a positive turn, Aveline fixed her golden eyes on him once again.

Though her face remained calm and unchanged, Thierry’s tongue felt dry as if he had just bitten into a mouthful of bitter herbs.

“Was he?”

“Of course. After all, Evuteren Castle is truly His Grace’s home, isn’t it? And you wouldn’t believe how much the people of the North adore him. My father, for instance, is more concerned about His Grace’s well-being than his own son’s…”

Thierry began rambling, listing all the virtues of his honorable and admirable lord.

He could talk for three days and nights about how remarkable, dignified, and even beautiful his lord was. But beyond that, Aveline’s pale face continued to weigh on his mind. He couldn’t understand why it left such an uncomfortable feeling in his chest.

‘She really is an unsettling woman.’

Concluding the matter concisely, Thierry prattled on, trying to shake off the awkwardness.

By the time he reached the part where seventeen-year-old Kazerre had uncovered the origins of an illegitimate son born to a poor commoner couple and forced them to kneel, the carriage finally came to a stop—just in time to save him.

He practically jumped out of the carriage as if escaping from confinement. His face, which had been dark and sullen throughout the ride, was now radiating relief.

“Please step down, My Lady.”

Unlike his initial hesitation, Thierry extended his hand into the carriage with practiced ease. He was eager to complete this task as quickly as possible.

Aveline took his hand without resistance and gracefully stepped out. Then, she suddenly lifted one corner of her lips into a sly smile.

“I’m fortunate to be the first recipient of Sir Thierry’s escort.”

“Pardon? What do you mean by that?”

“If you showed such lacking manners to another lady, even the most thick-skinned one would be terribly embarrassed, don’t you think?”

Aveline sneered as if she found him utterly ridiculous. Yet, for once, Thierry didn’t feel inclined to argue back.

‘Yes. This is the Aveline Croeta I know.’

That sharp tongue, those condescending eyes, that smirk lifting just one corner of her lips—it was oddly reassuring to see her like this.

It felt as if the rough, grainy discomfort that had been clinging to him just moments ago had been washed away in a single wave.

“You may leave now, Sir.”

“Well, I should at least wait until His Grace arrives—”

Normally, he would have welcomed such an order with open arms, but this time, he hesitated instead of rejoicing.

He had planned to wait in the carriage until Kazerre arrived. If Kazerre couldn’t make it for some reason, Thierry would have to escort Aveline back.

But Aveline looked at him strangely, as if that possibility hadn’t even crossed her mind. It was as though she was certain that Kazerre would come to her, no matter what.

Then, as if she had just heard the most ridiculous rumor, she raised an eyebrow and asked,

“Or… are you planning to attend the tea party as my partner? With those terrible manners?”

“I will take my leave immediately.”

“I thought so.”

As soon as Thierry responded without hesitation, Aveline finally looked satisfied and smiled.

Without so much as a parting word, she turned away and walked off, her steps light and elegant.

Frowning, Thierry absentmindedly watched her retreating figure before ruffling his hair in frustration and climbing back into the carriage.

Though he had successfully completed his task without issue, for some reason, an inexplicable restlessness stirred in his chest.

“Oh my, Lady Croeta. You’ve arrived.”

The Marchioness of Bourville greeted Aveline warmly. She wore a mask of hospitality befitting the hostess of the event, determined to welcome every guest with enthusiasm—regardless of who they were. But her eyes, which betrayed her true thoughts, kept darting away from Aveline.

She was searching for Kazerre, hoping he had come along.

Aveline pretended not to notice and responded with a polite, formal greeting.

“Thank you for the invitation, Lady Bourville.”

“Yes, of course…”

As the Marchioness of Bourville barely swallowed her disappointment, Aveline followed the servant who was guiding her inside.

After all, the reason she had come to this tea party had nothing to do with the Marchioness of Bourville.