Chapter 1

“Fierra, I’d like to have a conversation with you.”

Normally, he would have tried to persuade her with his usual sly manner, but Dario spoke quietly, his face almost expressionless.

“Sorry, but I’m busy right now.”

She spoke coldly, and as she absentmindedly gripped the letter in her right hand, his deep blue gaze immediately dropped to her hand.

“What are those?”

“Letters addressed to me.”

“Are they, by any chance, proposals?”

“……!”

Surprised, Fierra forgot about their cold war and asked,

“How did you know?”

She was agreeing with him, but for some reason, Dario’s expression gradually hardened.

“Where are they from?”

“I don’t know. I have to check them now.”

He looked at the letter in Fierra’s small hand, then at her face.

Dario seemed to have a lot more to say, but there was no need for her to stand there and listen.

“Then go.”

She didn’t add any gentle words like ‘Let’s meet again later’—her own form of revenge.

A very petty and trivial retaliation.

With lighter steps, Fierra hurried away from Dario.

But he caught up with her quickly, and it took only a moment for him to snatch the letter from her hand.

“What are you doing!”

Fierra, startled, reached out to take the letter back. But Dario stepped back, quickly reading the seal and the name on the back of the envelope.

The dessert box he had brought was now lying on the ground in a miserable state.

“Give it back!”

At Fierra’s scream-like cry, Dario obediently handed her the letter.

He had already finished checking who and where the proposal was from.

“You must be crazy, seriously!”

Fierra shouted, her voice sizzling with anger.

“Fierra. Although Young Earl Edelp seems fine on the outside, he’s very timid. If you get close, you’ll only feel frustrated.”

Whether she shouted or not, Dario started listing the sons of noble families—those who had sent her proposals.

“What are you doing right now?”

“Unlike his father, Young Marquis Prydin isn’t very bright. If you don’t want to suffer, it’s best not to consider him at all.”

“Stop it. I’m really about to get angry.”

“Earl Chepel hasn’t been in his position for long…….”

“I told you to stop, clearly.”

Fortunately, Dario stopped his torrent of harsh words.

But his eyes still showed he wasn’t happy with the situation.

“I’m worried you might give your heart to someone strange.”

“That’s my decision to make, not yours. Why, are you going to write up a list of names and hand it to me again?”

You’ve really crossed the line.

Fierra continued, glaring at his firmly closed, proper lips.

“Don’t you think this is too much concern for a friend? Sorry, but you don’t have the right.”

“I do have the right. I’ve watched over you for a long time, and I know you better than anyone.”

“You know me best? Then you must know the things I hate, too?”

Dario pressed his lips together again.

It would be disadvantageous for him to list everything, as he obviously knew.

“I’ll say it again. You don’t have the right. Don’t interfere in my affairs from now on.”

Fierra ended her words coldly and turned around without a moment’s hesitation.

Crunch, crunch—the still moist grass and already dried leaves were crushed beneath her feet.

Dario kept moving his fingertips, repeatedly digging at the ground in front of him, but couldn’t take a step forward.

He could catch Fierra even now if he wanted, but then he’d surely be hated again.

He’d already received more than enough hatred, so there was no need to add more.

All he could do was hope that Fierra would change her mind and return, saying, ‘Fine, let’s hear what nonsense you have to say.’

But Fierra strode forward bravely. Boldly, courageously. The distance that opened between them never closed again.

* * *

‘Phew……’

Fierra parted her lips slightly and let out a long sigh.

She wanted to open her mouth wider and exhale as much as she could, but she felt like her heart would jump out if she did.

Her tightly clenched hands trembled on her thighs.

The deep breath she took to calm herself didn’t seem to work.

Well, with a turning point in life right before her, how could she remain composed?

‘How should I bring it up?’

Seventeen years.

Was there ever a time in her short or long life when she felt as nervous as now? She could say with certainty—never.

“Fifi. Is something wrong? You’re acting strange today. Not saying anything. Well, you were always strange, anyway.”

Dario, who had quietly watched all her actions from across the table, spoke with a sly smile.

Normally, she would have glared fiercely and said something, but today she decided to hold back.

She couldn’t waste time on pointless arguments.

Fierra steadied her breath again and looked at the man sitting before her.

His playfully curved eyes and neatly raised lips were absurdly handsome.

His icy blue eyes, well-textured black hair, straight nose, and neatly groomed eyebrows.

Not a single thing was lacking—he was perfect in every way.

‘Ah, no. This isn’t the time.’

Fierra, who habitually admired his looks inwardly, shook her head in surprise.

This wasn’t the time to lose focus. She had to speak before all the courage she’d gathered scattered.

Now was the time—to ask him to get engaged to her.

She had hoped Dario would say it first, but she couldn’t wait any longer.

Who says it first doesn’t really matter. What matters is the heart.

“Da, Dario.”

“Why?”

‘Good.’

His response to her hesitant words was, as always, gentle.

Fierra, like a fish swallowing food, struggled to continue.

“About us. I think it’s about time.”

“Time? What time? Are you hungry already? We just ate.”

Is she still growing?

Dario muttered softly and offered her the scone in front of him.

“Want to eat this?”

“No, you eat it. Dario, don’t joke around. I’m about to have a serious conversation.”

“Ah, okay?”

Dario leaned deep into the sofa, crossing his arms.

“What is it?”

“Well……. I turned seventeen this year. Dario, you’re nineteen.”

“That’s right. But why?”

“I think, well, it’s the right age now.”

“……?”

She wished he’d catch on.

He was quick-witted about other things, so why was he so clueless about this?

“So, what I mean is…… I think it’s time for us to get formally engaged.”

“What?”

Dario leaned forward and asked again, as if he’d heard something unbelievable.

“What did you just say?”

He asked with wide eyes. Fierra had never seen him open his eyes so wide.

“Why? It’s not like I said something I shouldn’t.”

“Engaged? Who? You and me?”

Dario fired off questions, staring at the hesitant Fierra, then paused for a moment.

“Ha.”

He soon burst into loud laughter.

He laughed so hard, even leaning back so much that the front legs of the sofa lifted off the ground by a finger’s width.

Fierra, who was staring blankly at Dario’s unexpected reaction, furrowed her brows.

“Is that really so funny?”

For some reason, she felt bad. He wasn’t laughing out of joy—if anything, it was closer to ridicule.

“Ah, Fifi.”

Dario, using the nickname he’d made for her in childhood, wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes with his long fingers.

“Stop laughing!”

How much had he laughed to shed tears like that?

Fierra stretched her leg and kicked Dario’s shin, shouting.

“Sorry.”

He apologized without sincerity, but continued to chuckle.

Even though she had kicked him as hard as she could, he didn’t show a hint of pain, which irritated her even more.

Much later, he caught his breath, wiped his flushed face, and with a grinning look,

“Please, even as a joke, don’t say such dreadful things.”

He said truly cruel and heartless words.

“…….”

Fierra sat still for a while, trying to understand his words, then slowly twisted her face in pain.