“…Astrid?”

Caleb, who had been watching with amused curiosity to see how she would respond to his subordinates’ playful antics, furrowed his brows.

Her apparent decision to leave without a word struck him as disappointing, though it didn’t seem like she was trying to leave the banquet hall altogether.

Instead, with elegant steps, Astrid moved away from the main table, heading toward the farthest table in the hall. Matilda and Edith quickly followed close behind her.

“Well, well. You’ve brought someone with quite a backbone, haven’t you, Lord Caleb?” remarked Elkan with a hint of admiration.

Caleb said nothing, his eyes fixed on Astrid as she made her way to each table, personally greeting his knights one by one.

The knights, already in high spirits, were thrown into an uproar as their future grand duchess approached their tables.

Chairs screeched, food was awkwardly offered, and nonsensical chatter filled the air—a spectacle of chaos. Yet, as time passed, the initial tension among them began to ease.

Before long, the clamor gave way to soft laughter and the low hum of conversation.

Caleb silently observed, his smile faintly lingering as he watched Astrid interacting with his men. Beneath the dazzling chandelier light, her cheeks were tinged with a soft blush, and her previously stiff expression had softened into a slight, contented smile.

Astrid, without question, was enjoying this moment.

“It’s only her first day. Perhaps the introductions could’ve waited until she had time to adjust to Cliff,” Elkan ventured cautiously, hoping to advocate for her. “There was no need to go to such lengths—”

“Formalities?”

Caleb’s sharp gaze shifted from Astrid to Elkan, cutting him off mid-sentence.

“Of course, the lady is doing well, but she can’t possibly feel comfortable. She’s surrounded by strangers in an unfamiliar place, and it’s only her first day.”

“And what good would waiting do? Would tomorrow suddenly make it easier to adjust?” Caleb scoffed, dismissing Elkan’s concern.

“No, that’s not what I meant…”

“If she falters here, she has no right to be the Grand Duchess of Cliff. I don’t need a duchess who’s embarrassed of my people.”

With that, Caleb folded his arms and looked away, clearly signaling that he wouldn’t entertain further arguments.

‘Tch. He’s being needlessly harsh. That’s not how he really feels.’

Elkan clicked his tongue in frustration, abandoning any attempt to reason with Caleb.

It was exasperating to watch his lord, who hadn’t taken his eyes off Astrid since she entered, pretend to be indifferent. If only Caleb could show her a little kindness, the lady would surely open her heart to him.

Elkan sighed, swallowing his unspoken thoughts. He remembered his own first encounter with Caleb—the day he arrived at Cliff, battered and brimming with defiance.

Caleb had broken him down in the training grounds, not with words but through relentless drills and bruising sparring matches, until Elkan had no choice but to surrender.

And yet, it was Caleb who had brought him meals, spoken to him without giving up, and extended a hand until Elkan finally accepted it.

‘But she’s a lady. He could be a bit gentler…’

Elkan suppressed his thoughts as Caleb’s gaze remained glued to Astrid, who was nearing the last table.

She had greeted nearly everyone, leaving only Helman’s table.

Watching her approach, Elkan’s face stiffened in concern.

“Tch. That fool better watch his mouth.”

Helman wasn’t a bad man, but he was loose-lipped and tactless—a dangerous combination. Having just been scolded by Caleb, there was still a good chance he might say something foolish to Astrid.

And sure enough—

“Welcome to Cliff, my lady. Have you ever heard of an initiation ritual?”

“…Initiation ritual?”

“Yes! It’s a longstanding tradition of our Cliff knights—drinking a full bowl of Cliff’s Tears! Of course, you’re not a knight, but as a new member of Cliff, I’d like to offer it to you as a gesture of welcome! What do you say?”

“…Ah.”

Helman gestured to a bowl large enough to wash one’s face in, filled with a suspicious, sloshing liquid that demanded attention.

“…Hah!”

“Helman, you crazy fool!”

The knights, who had been laughing and chatting in high spirits, all froze at once. After all, they weren’t entirely devoid of common sense.

An offense of this magnitude toward a young noble lady—especially one who was not only the lady of Cliff Manor but also the future grand duchess of Croatan—was beyond inappropriate.

A knight standing nearby clamped a large hand over Helman’s mouth, but the effort wasn’t enough to subdue a half-mad Helman.

Crash! The knight, overwhelmed by Helman’s brute strength, was sent sprawling, muttering a curse under his breath.

“Helman, you madman! To dare insult Her Grace the Grand Duchess! I challenge you to a duel on behalf of the Commander—”

“My Lady?”

“Good heavens, My Lady, what are you—?!”

The hall erupted into a cacophony of gasps and murmurs as Matilda and Edith screamed.

Astrid Bowell.

The future Grand Duchess of Cliff leaned down her slender waist and brought her petal-like lips to the dish before her.

“…Lord Caleb?”

Elkan turned toward Caleb, who had abruptly risen from his seat, his expression dark and unreadable.

“…Let go.”

Caleb growled in a low voice, glaring down at Elkan, who had grabbed his sleeve to hold him back.

“You’re too late. If you wanted to intervene, you should have done so much earlier.”

“…”

“The unspoken rule of the Cliff Knights: once a challenge is accepted, it cannot be retracted. Even the Commander cannot interfere.”

“Astrid is—”

“Yes, she’s not part of the knights. But she is the lady of Cliff Manor. If she succeeds, she’ll earn everyone’s recognition on her own, without anyone’s help.”

“…”

“Don’t worry too much. It’s bitter on the tongue, but it’s good for the body.”

Caleb swallowed back a string of harsh words threatening to escape his lips.

Elkan was right. Stepping in now, after everything that had already unfolded, would look terrible. Caleb understood this better than anyone. But to him, Astrid was still a girl—barely more than a child.

The “Cliff’s Tears” were indeed a potent medicine, but a dose that size was too much for a beginner. Overindulging could cause fever, fatigue, or even drunken stupor-like symptoms.

Most recovered by the next day, feeling refreshed, so it wasn’t usually a serious issue. But giving such a quantity to a young girl was undeniably cruel.

As Caleb attempted to brush off Elkan’s hand and step forward, Elkan tightened his grip with surprising strength, pulling him back.

“…!”

Caleb shot Elkan a sharp glare, but Elkan remained unmoving.

“This is Astrid’s fight. Watch over her, as you once did for me.”

“…You’re a cold-hearted bastard.”

Caleb shook off Elkan’s hand roughly and sank back into his seat.

Elkan was right. Whether she fainted or vomited, as long as they handled the aftermath properly, it would be fine. Even if she didn’t succeed, her courage and determination would earn everyone’s respect.

So why?

Why did this situation bother Caleb so much?

‘…It’s unsettling.’

***

Astrid was practically burying her face in the bowl as she drank the concoction. Watching her, Matilda’s face had gone ghostly pale, as if she might faint at any moment.

The knights had formed a circle around Astrid, their cheers growing louder by the second.

Whistle!

“Just a little more! You’re almost there!”

“You can do it, Your Grace! Keep going!”

“Her Grace’s spirit is leagues above that of Helman! Incredible!”

“I thought she was a fairy-like lady from her appearance, but her bravery is akin to Aina, the goddess of war!”

Gulp, gulp.

The bitterness of the potion was one thing, but Astrid felt like her stomach might burst. She had never had a large appetite, and after her frugal diet at the monastery, she worried her stomach might rebel by tomorrow. Yet, strangely, she felt exhilarated.

The whistling, stomping, clapping, and shouts of encouragement—all directed at her—lifted her spirits.

Having been frail since childhood, Astrid had consumed countless rare medicinal herbs. Taste was never an issue for her. Instead, she found the intense flavor, which seemed to burn down to her core, oddly satisfying.

‘So this is the taste of the Cliff’s Tears. I’ve always been curious.’

She recalled a passage from The Herbal Encyclopedia, which described the Cliff’s Tears as a remedy made from herbs growing on the cliffside—exceptionally potent and notoriously bitter. It was as strong as she’d heard. Thankfully, she didn’t feel nauseous or repelled by the taste.

With a flushed face, Astrid emptied the bowl to the last drop. Then, using both arms, she lifted the bowl high above her head.

The weight caused her to wobble momentarily, but she steadied herself and dramatically tilted the bowl, shaking out every last trace.

Waaaah!

The room erupted in a deafening cheer, far louder than anything before.

“Glory to the Grand Duchess!”

Following someone’s lead, the knights began chanting in unison, their voices shaking the banquet hall with cries for the Grand Duchess.

‘…It feels so good.’

She felt as though she could soar to the skies. Since her father’s passing, she had not felt this exhilarated, not even once.

It was as if she had shed all her restraints and could freely ascend to the heavens. Or perhaps, it felt like she had gained the entire world. Lost in this euphoria, Astrid let out a burst of hearty laughter.

‘I need to reach higher.’

The feeling was so intense that it seemed she might actually take flight. Her eyes, seeking something to elevate her further, landed on the table. Without hesitation, she raised one leg and started climbing onto it.

But before she could get far, a hand swept in from behind, grabbing her mid-motion. Caleb had stopped her, catching her by the nape as she tried to recklessly hoist herself onto the table. Practically embracing the flailing Astrid, he announced in a low, firm voice:

“The initiation ends here. All members of the Cliff Knights, assemble at the training grounds at dawn tomorrow.”

“…Grand Duke Caleb?”

Her spinning vision managed to focus on the face of the man whose expression had hardened with fury. Yet even in anger, his strikingly handsome features remained unchanged.

Except for the deeply furrowed brows, which she didn’t particularly like. Reaching out, Astrid gently touched Caleb’s creased forehead. Caleb, who had just slid his arm under her knees to lift her, paused.

“What?”

“…Not pretty.”

“What?”

“There’s a worm stuck there. I was going to take it off.”

“…Ha.”

“You’re prettier when you smile… you know.”

“Lady Astrid.”

“I took off the worm, so why does it keep coming back? It’s prettier without it…”

Astrid’s “worm” commentary continued all the way from the banquet hall to Caleb’s temporary quarters. Her fingers roamed freely over Caleb’s face, touching his deeply furrowed brow and the scar that crossed his cheek.

Though he did not explicitly stop her, the increasingly strained expression on his face was evidence of his growing irritation—a fact that Matilda, trailing behind them, quickly noticed.

“Grand Duke Caleb! It seems this is a side effect. Please overlook her actions for now, as they’re likely influenced by the medication, yes?”

Hurrying to keep up, Matilda cautiously defended Astrid. Caleb, however, did not respond.

“Tomorrow’s breakfast will be just the two of us. Alone.”

He scoffed and dropped the statement nonchalantly.

“Pardon? But she may still be under the medication’s effects, so she should rest adequately…”

“No.”

Cutting off Matilda’s words without hesitation, Caleb strode towards the bed. With a brusque gesture, he pulled back the lace curtains draped around the bed, almost tearing them off in frustration.

‘The painstakingly decorated wedding bed…!’

Matilda barely suppressed a scream, fearing he might rip them to shreds entirely in his temper.

Regardless, Caleb carefully laid Astrid down on the large, luxurious marital bed. His expression was harsh, but his movements were as gentle as handling a feather.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Caleb silently gazed down at Astrid for a moment. Lying still and unresponsive, she resembled a fairy from a forest, enchanted and asleep.

Her porcelain-white skin, short golden hair glimmering like silk threads, and delicate, symmetrical features…

‘Adorable.’

The thought flitted through Caleb’s mind before he stiffened, lips pressing into a thin line. His gaze was drawn to her slightly parted, rosy lips, exhaling soft, warm breaths.

Her breath carried a faint medicinal scent. It should have been unpleasant, yet strangely, it mingled with a sweet, soap-like fragrance that was oddly pleasant.

Even so, Astrid’s actions earlier still grated on his nerves.

“…Reckless as always, do you even know what you were doing?”

Leaning closer, Caleb whispered into her ear.

“When you wake up, be prepared. You’ll face consequences.”

Astrid’s long, softly curled eyelashes trembled as if in response. Like a butterfly’s wings caught in the rain, the delicate motion was both pitiful and endearing.