Three days after the Atonement Ceremony.

In a secluded attic in one corner of the count’s annex—the smallest and most dilapidated of rooms—a young life was fading away.

Astrid had been confined alone in the attic, battling her illness for two straight nights.

“Water… water…”

Her cracked and parched lips, stained with dried blood, whispered a faint plea. But no one responded to her cries.

The maids left water and modest meals at the door during meal times, but Astrid, too weak to open her eyes, was unaware of their presence.

It was an old tradition in Hestian that a woman who underwent the Atonement Ceremony was not allowed to attend her husband’s funeral. As such, no one would come looking for Astrid until the count’s funeral was completed that day. It wasn’t uncommon for women who lost their husbands to die during the funeral period.

Some succumbed to the prolonged ceremonies that lasted over a week, while others ended their lives by choice. In such cases, the deceased woman was sometimes canonized as a saint with the pope’s approval.

Only in death could they achieve full atonement and freedom. Thus, the struggle for survival was Astrid’s alone.

“Is anyone there? Please, water…”

At that moment, a cool droplet of water fell on Astrid’s cracked lips. It was just one drop.

“Slowly.”

A low male voice admonished her. But the moment her body tasted moisture, it cried out desperately for more.

“…More. Please…”

The man gently pushed away Astrid’s outstretched hand.

“Drinking too quickly isn’t good for you. Slowly.”

“…Ah.”

A soft moan of disappointment escaped Astrid’s lips, prompting a low chuckle from the man.

“Just one sip. Alright, there you go.”

The man let a single sip of water trickle into Astrid’s mouth.

Though frustrated by his excessive caution, Astrid, completely devoid of strength, had no choice but to follow his lead.

“If you want more, you’ll need to slowly sit up.”

“I… don’t have the strength…”

“If you want to live, you’ll have to show some willpower. Come on, here’s the water. Once you rehydrate, you’ll gradually recover. Your fever seems to have subsided. Do you want to live or not?”

Caleb raised his arm, holding the cup out of Astrid’s reach.

A man who received scorn even for his good deeds.

For the first time, Caleb began to accept Cradoc’s assessment of him as possibly accurate.

That morning, Caleb had been dragged to the late count’s funeral by Duke Bowell’s relentless insistence.

“Experiencing our Hestian funeral customs might not be a bad idea. I can also introduce you to some figures involved in potion-making.”

Left with no choice but to take the bait the duke dangled, Caleb attended, despite wanting to never set foot there again.

“Damn it. If it weren’t for that potion…”

Having briefly been introduced to a few people, Caleb slipped away while the duke was occupied and wandered into the estate, seeking a quieter spot. Following faint groans, he arrived at the attic.

Caleb observed the girl’s flushed face, drenched in sweat, with a sharp gaze.

When he took the water away, her expression twisted in frustration. He felt a fleeting pang of pity but had no intention of offering charity for free.

Call it stubbornness, but Caleb’s principle was clear: only those who showed the will to live deserved help.

“She might want to die, for all I know. They say she’d be rotting in a convent for the rest of her life anyway. No point in saving her if she’d only resent it…”

Just then, Caleb flinched as a small hand, clutching with surprising strength, grabbed his arm and yanked him. Astrid used all her remaining strength to pull herself up.

Thud.

The wooden cup spilled its contents onto the floor as it rolled away. Caleb gave it a light kick, sending it further away, then supported Astrid, wrapping her in his arms from behind.

“Hah… hah…”

The young girl’s labored breathing warmed Caleb’s skin.

Still cradling Astrid in his arms, Caleb reached into his coat and retrieved a small vial. It was a healing potion he kept for emergencies.

Why had he felt compelled to use it?

Was it mere sympathy? Disgust for the barbaric customs of the Holy Kingdom? Or perhaps just a sudden whim breaking the monotony of his days? He wasn’t sure. But one thing was clear—he wanted to save the frail girl in his arms.

As always, Caleb acted on his desires without hesitation.

“…Ha.”

The potion’s effects were remarkable. After consuming every drop of the costly elixir, a faint blush began to bloom on As’s previously pale face.

Her tightly shut eyes slowly opened, revealing irises as blue as the depths of the ocean. Caleb silently marveled as the luminous blue widened in surprise before returning to its natural state.

“What’s… your name?”

“What for? Are you planning to repay me?”

“I have nothing else to offer… except this.”

“…!”

As fumbled around in Caleb’s arms before producing something unexpected.

Caleb scrutinized the object in his hand—it was a ring engraved with the crest of the Lionel family.

It was the very ring his mother, Grand Duchess Cliff, had prepared for his young fiancée. Though it had been recently refashioned, it was unmistakably the same ring he’d grown familiar with since childhood.

After a year-long monster-slaying campaign, Caleb had returned unaware of the intricate details surrounding his ex-fiancée. He’d been informed the engagement had been annulled and reassigned, but he hadn’t thought much of it.

After all, he’d never even seen his former betrothed.

Yet now, holding his mother’s ring, he felt an inexplicable unease.

While Caleb stared at the ring with a grave expression, Astrid cautiously spoke, watching him nervously.

“I know the potion must’ve been expensive, but… this is the only valuable thing I have. Please…”

As Caleb examined the tiny object in his palm, he muttered a quiet curse.

Startled by his harsh language, Astrid flinched and tried to move away. Caleb, however, held her firmly, ensuring she couldn’t escape.

“Consider it a fee for the entertainment,” Caleb said, finally returning the ring to Astrid.

She accepted it with a puzzled expression but said nothing, unable to bring herself to ask whether he had witnessed her degrading ordeal.

Caleb merely offered a bitter smile and refrained from elaborating.

The ring had once symbolized their engagement—a bond now long dissolved.

It was all in the past, yet why did it leave such an unpleasant aftertaste? Caleb couldn’t understand.

“Hey,” he said.

“…Yes?”

“Handing over something so valuable so easily—how do you plan to survive in this godforsaken country?”

“What do you mean…?”

“If anyone tries to take what’s yours, hold on to it with all your might. Fight with everything you’ve got.”

“…Ah.”

“And if they force you to let go, clench your fist and strike them with it.”

“But…”

“It’s self-defense.”

“Self… defense?”

“Exactly. Those who treat you like a criminal don’t deserve your respect.”

“…!”

“So live—fight tooth and nail to survive.”

It wasn’t advice, not really.

Even Caleb admitted that his words were reckless and childish. Yet, in that moment, they came from the heart.

At the very least, he wanted the girl to live—not just survive, but stand tall, wherever she might end up.

“…Hey!”

Suddenly, the girl’s body slipped from his arms. Reflexively, Caleb tightened his grip, preventing her from collapsing.

‘She’s asleep now… this little one. Or should I call her my former fiancée?’

Thankfully, Astrid was breathing peacefully in his arms. As Caleb gazed at her sleeping face, his expression grew complicated.

Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock!

A rude and relentless knocking came from outside. The sound alone was enough for Caleb to guess who it was.

“Lord Caleb! Lord Caleb! Are you in there? What on earth are you doing? The funeral is over! The Duke is departing for Bowell Manor as we speak. He requests that you join him.”

“…Tell him I’ll travel separately. I have no desire to sit in the same carriage.”

“Fair enough. After all, everyone fawns over him in public but calls him a shameless bastard behind his back for selling off his niece. Poor little lady… But seriously, what are you doing in there?”

Before the equally impatient Cradoc could turn the doorknob, Caleb moved like lightning, slipping out of the room before the other man could react.

“Lord Caleb! I knew I’d find you here. You’ve always liked hidden corners since you were young. Just like when you used to hide during hide-and-seek to torment me—some habits really don’t change…”

“Every year, you become more and more nagging. You’re starting to remind me of Matilda.”

“What? How can you say that!”

Watching Cradoc’s face flush red like someone drunk, Caleb chuckled quietly.

Cradoc, his mother’s right-hand man and the cornerstone of the Cliff Knights, was surprisingly naïve, making him an easy target for teasing.

A middle-aged knight blushing at the jokes of a mere twenty-year-old heir—how amusing.

‘No wonder he’s never confessed to Matilda.’

While Cradoc muttered complaints with his reddened face, Caleb shut the attic door and leaned against it.

The creaking sound of the old, warped door made its presence known, but it was time to bid farewell to this space.

He could have just made an excuse to leave, but instead, he’d ended up getting caught up in unnecessary matters.

‘…Advice? What nonsense. I’m not even planning to help her.’

Caleb mocked himself. Interfering in the affairs of an unfortunate girl had left him with a sour taste.

‘It doesn’t matter. I’ll never see her again anyway.’

After this visit, Caleb vowed he would never set foot on Hestian soil again. He resolved to put thoughts of the girl, his former betrothed, out of his mind as soon as he took the first step away.

After all, there was nothing he could do for her.