“I love you.”

“…!”

He hadn’t expected a confession, especially not so sudden. Caught off guard, Caleb was momentarily speechless. Astrid chuckled softly at his reaction.

“I’m just stating how I feel. I’m not asking you to accept it, so don’t be surprised. You told me to feel however I want. I’m just being honest.”

Caleb listened in silence as Astrid calmly continued her confession.

Though he no longer felt the wetness of tears, he hesitated to remove his hand from her eyes.

If he did, and found pain reflected in those eyes, he wasn’t sure how he would respond.

It was an uncharacteristically hesitant moment for Caleb, a man known for decisiveness and swift execution in all matters.

“……!”

At that moment, warmth enveloped his large hand, which had lost its direction. Astrid gently grasped it, guiding it back to its original place.

“I understand now. My feelings are mine alone. I won’t ask you to return them. But instead…”

“Instead, what?”

“Let me love you.”

“That’s up to you,” Caleb conceded, prompting a smile to return to Astrid’s lips.

“And about your scar… I like it.”

“…What?”

“It’s proof. Proof of what you value most. A proud testament to what you’ve protected.”

“…”

“And, well… it’s kind of…”

“Kind of what?”

“…Kind of sexy. There’s a wild charm to it. Anyway, I like everything about it.”

Caleb’s expression twisted at her words.

When they first met, she was only fifteen—a girl still fresh in his memory. And now, this once-young child was using words like “sexy” and “wild charm.” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

Raising a large hand, Caleb ruffled her hair without restraint.

“Ah! W-wait…!”

The neatly styled hair Matilda had painstakingly arranged was now a tangled mess. Astrid stood there, hands atop her head, wearing an aggrieved expression as Caleb chastised her.

“Little Lady, you certainly say whatever you please.”

“I’m eighteen! I’m not a child anymore.”

Her puffed-up cheeks and indignant tone fell flat.

“Oh, of course. My Grand Duchess,” Caleb teased.

“Don’t mock me! Eighteen! Some of my friends have already had children—”

“Children?”

“I-I mean, it’s just a saying—”

“A child having a child? Ridiculous.”

Unlike Croatan, Hestian customs favored early marriages. Many of Astrid’s friends were already married with children. But Caleb only scoffed in disbelief.

“You’re my wife in name, but I have no intention of holding you.”

“……!”

His words made Astrid’s face flush with heat—half from embarrassment, half from a dull ache in her chest. It felt like he acknowledged her as his wife but dismissed her as a woman.

“I’ll consider it when you turn twenty.”

“……!”

“Until then, grow up, my lady.”

Astrid quietly pushed Caleb’s hand away from her head. Chin held high, she spoke boldly.

“By then, my feelings might change.”

“…What?”

Caleb’s previously relaxed face hardened. It was as if he had been blindsided by an unexpected ambush.

“Don’t regret it, Your Grace. Waving after the carriage has left won’t turn it back.”

With those words, Astrid quickly retreated, leaving Caleb alone. A bitter laugh escaped his lips.

“So that’s why they call her the Jewel of the Bowell family. Bold and outspoken, she bites back if you speak carelessly.”

Though he grumbled, a genuine smile had formed on Caleb’s face.

When she first arrived at Cliff a month ago, Astrid had been timid and reserved. Now, seeing her regain her spirit was oddly reassuring.

‘She’ll manage well, even if I leave. She’s wise and strong.’

Astrid had already found her place among the others, sitting comfortably, eating without pretense.

Caleb watched her from a distance, the night breeze ruffling his hair and clothes. It was a strong wind blowing from the southwest, all the way from the Brietta River.

***

Deng, deng, deng, deng. DENG!

The bell at the highest tower of Cliff Castle tolled frantically, its sharp cries piercing the night. It only rang in times of invasion or natural disaster—a warning of imminent danger.

The blaring sound jolted Astrid awake from a dreamless sleep.

“What’s that noise…?”

She leapt from bed and rushed to open the door, where Matilda was waiting for her.

“Your Grace, you’re awake?”

“Matilda, what’s happening? It’s not… a monster attack, is it?”

Though she asked with a tense expression, Matilda firmly shook her head.

“That can’t be it. It’s not that.”

However, it was too soon to feel relieved. Matilda’s face was still shadowed with worry.

“…Then what’s with the bells?”

“Don’t be alarmed, Your Grace. It’s a fire alarm.”

“…!”

Without a word, Astrid brushed past Matilda, heading somewhere with urgency.

“Your Grace!”

Matilda’s anxious call echoed behind her, but Astrid kept running. She only stopped when she reached a large window that stretched across the wall.

“…Oh no!”

Gasping for breath, Astrid’s eyes widened as she gazed out the window. A scene that should have been shrouded in deep darkness was instead illuminated vividly, filling her field of vision.

The world was bathed in a deep red glow.

This can’t be happening.

Her grip on the window frame was so tight that her fingertips turned white, drained of all color.

Far in the west, where the village lay, a massive fire was raging. It was so fierce and powerful that it lit up the dark dawn sky.

Enormous flames painted the black sky a vivid crimson, with thick, white smoke billowing endlessly into the air.

I shouldn’t be able to hear it…

Yet, the screams of people echoed sharply in her ears, as if she were right there among them.

Was it because she desperately wanted to believe it was a dream?

“My Lady, are you all right?”

“…”

Astrid didn’t respond. She stared blankly out the window, lost in thought. Matilda approached and gently placed a pair of silk slippers at Astrid’s bare feet.

It seemed Astrid had rushed out as soon as she heard the bells. She stood barefoot, clad only in a thin muslin nightgown. The early spring dawn was still bitterly cold.

“You’ll catch a cold like this. Please, put on the slippers, Your Grace,” Matilda urged, draping a soft shawl over Astrid’s shoulders.

But Astrid felt no chill.

“…”

She remained motionless, as though deaf to everything around her, eyes fixed on the distant flames.

“…Your Grace?”

“Where is Caleb? His Grace, the Grand Duke?”

Astrid asked without shifting her gaze. Her voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable tremor beneath it.

“He’s leading the knights to the village. They took water from the moat in haste. He said it’s not a fire that will die easily and instructed us not to wait for him. He also asked that you not be disturbed.”

“Are they still drawing water?”

“Yes. Sir Elkan is overseeing it. His Grace insisted you rest and not concern yourself with it.”

Matilda trailed off, noticing the hard set of Astrid’s features. The normally gentle Astrid now wore a resolute, unyielding expression.

“This is absurd. Resting when even a cat’s help would be valuable?”

“But, Your Grace, the Grand Duke—”

“Finding the source of the fire takes priority. The southwest wind has been blowing since morning. If it doesn’t stop, this will be a hard battle.”

“…Your Grace.”

Astrid’s eyes locked on the swaying trees outside the window. The tall trees leaned helplessly, bent by the wind.

Unfortunately, the wind was blowing directly toward the village in the southwest.

“The wind is picking up, Matilda.”

“Your Grace! Where are you—!”

There was no time to stop her.

Astrid dashed to her room, shedding her nightgown and grabbing the first clothes she found—Caleb’s work attire from earlier in the day.

She dressed in under a minute, throwing on a cloak before leaving her room.

“Your Grace, why are you doing this? The Grand Duke said—”

Matilda, now following her, tried to protest, but Astrid’s voice was firm.

“There’s no time for debate. I need to speak with Elkan first.”

“Your Grace!”

Matilda called out in distress, but Astrid was already gone. Biting her lip, Matilda had no choice but to follow.

Astrid’s pace was so fast that Matilda only caught up when she was gasping for breath.

***