The man’s steps were light as he headed toward the annex. Work had ended early today, allowing him to return home sooner than expected.

For the past few days, he had been staying alone in the annex, which had been all but abandoned due to repairs on the castle’s outer walls. Feeling increasingly lonely, the thought of someone waiting for him inexplicably lifted his spirits.

“She’s scrawny and unremarkable, but those blue eyes weren’t bad. If her hair were long, she might even look decent. That rare golden hair, though…”

Humming a tune, the man carried a basket brimming with food. Inside were a variety of delicacies: fruits soaked in honey, white bread, two kinds of jam, smoked ham, and cheese. It was sure to make a fine feast.

“My wife packed this for the lady. She said to treat her well while she’s here. Poor girl—lost her father, lost her husband… Even if she’s a criminal, she’s still a young lady. It’s pitiful.”

The man, a villager conscripted for the Duke’s castle repairs, noticed the rumors about the return of the tribute maiden were spreading quietly.

“Pitiful, my foot. Even if she’s young, a widow should act like one. She should be grateful for this much food!”

Even though she had lost everything, she was once the lady of the grand Bowell family. He had been nervous at first but found her more docile and aware of her place than expected.

He quickened his steps, imagining her gratitude when he handed over the food along with some consoling words.

“What the… I told her not to take a single step out! That woman…!”

As soon as he stepped inside, an unsettling silence greeted him, and veins bulged on his neck as he grew agitated at the thought of her disregarding his instructions.

Just then, he heard the faint splashing of water.

“…That’s coming from the kitchen?”

Instinctively quieting his footsteps, he cautiously moved toward the kitchen.

Splash, splash.

The girl was diligently scrubbing her legs with a cloth, creating small splashes of water.

Her freshly cleaned, nearly translucent skin seemed radiant. No matter how much effort commoners might put into grooming, they could never replicate such a refined complexion.

Though she wasn’t fully undressed, her pants were rolled up, exposing her slender legs. The sight made him gulp involuntarily.

Just as his Adam’s apple bobbed and he swallowed audibly—

“Ah!”

Thud, crash!

He let out a strangled cry as a blow to his back sent him sprawling to the floor.

“Ugh! Dammit! Who the hell—?!”

Spitting out the blood pooling in his mouth, he rolled his eyes in rage.

A long shadow loomed over his head.

The man towering over him was easily seven feet tall, with jet-black hair and eyes like the midnight sky. His muscular frame radiated power.

He looked like the Grim Reaper himself, descended from the depths of hell.

The man was smiling as though he found something amusing. For reasons unknown, the villager’s spine tingled, and he swallowed hard.

The man grinned wickedly and introduced himself in a deceptively polite tone.

“Caleb Lionel. Knight of Croatan and heir to the Duke of Cliff.”

“Yes, yes, of course, my lord! But what brings you here, my lord—?”

“And why would you need to know that?”

“Ugh!”

The question clearly didn’t require an answer. Caleb’s dirt-streaked leather boot struck the man’s stomach and then his chin, sending him sprawling again.

Astrid, hearing the commotion, rushed over but froze at the sight. She couldn’t even scream, instinctively pulling down her rolled-up clothes and hugging herself tightly.

Thud, thud, thud!

Caleb’s relentless beating continued until the man was left a bloody pulp. Only when the man was reduced to a heap of battered flesh did Caleb seem satisfied, stopping his one-sided assault.

“How dare you sully the air with your filthy breath? Disgusting.”

Caleb spat on the man with a face full of contempt. At the sight, Astrid flinched involuntarily.

‘Caleb Lionel? The heir to the Duke of Cliff. Then that must mean he’s…’

She recalled her father mentioning the name long ago. Though she’d never seen his face, he had once been her fiancé.

But after her father’s death, she was hastily sold off to an aging Count, effectively annulling the engagement.

‘I never imagined I’d meet him like this.’

***

Caleb’s gaze landed on the terrified young girl and lingered.

Her small frame, trembling as she curled up on herself, looked pitifully fragile.

“There’s no need to be so scared…”

Though he wasn’t skilled at comforting others, he felt the need to say something to reassure her.

But before he could finish his thought, the door burst open with a loud thud, and Cradoc stormed in.

“Lord Caleb, why insist on staying in this annex instead of the main house’s guest room? If that’s the case, why not just book an inn… What’s this now?”

Cradoc, who had barged in belatedly, nudged the body sprawled on the floor with the tip of his boot.

“The Duke of Bowell has invited me for breakfast. What shall I tell him? I’d rather not face him first thing in the morning. Where’s the servant?”

“Well, as per your instructions, I didn’t let anyone in. But who’ll attend to you, then?”

“I heard there’s a servant staying here, so I thought I wouldn’t need to call anyone else. But in this state, that’s not possible, is it?”

“…Not at all.”

Cradoc answered reluctantly, glancing at the semi-conscious man on the floor.

“Then who’s left? Only you, Sir Cradoc.”

“What? What are you saying? I have evening plans! This is my first time in Hestian. I must visit the night market…”

“What? To buy Matilda a gift?”

“N-no, that’s not it…”

“So, Matilda comes before me? You’ll leave me, a stranger in a foreign land, alone and go out gallivanting?”

“…Not alone, surely.”

“What?”

As Cradoc’s feeble excuses failed, Caleb scoffed and prepared to rebuke him.

“There is one more servant, isn’t there? It’s just simple tasks like preparing a meal or assisting with a bath. Are you really planning to exploit this old knight, Lord Caleb?”

“…Ha.”

A spark of annoyance flared in Caleb’s eyes. Already irritated from dealing with a wretched man earlier, Cradoc’s defiance only fueled his frustration. And now, a “servant”? The person Cradoc referred to was surely…

Even considering the distance from which Cradoc had seen her—

‘How could he mistake her gender after seeing that face? How clueless.’

Caleb could not fathom it.

“Listen, Cradoc, that child is—”

“I’ll do it!”

Before Caleb could finish, the girl—Astrid—interrupted, her sudden exclamation leaving him bewildered.

“…What?”

“Anything! I’ll do whatever I can to help you. I’ll do my best!”

“….”

“You heard her.”

Cradoc shrugged smugly and left the annex without a second glance, dragging the unconscious man out with him. It was a hasty exit befitting his impatient personality.

“…Ha.”

Caleb let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair as he propped one hand on his waist.

In that moment, Astrid, who had been too afraid to meet his gaze properly, saw his clear forehead, neatly arranged brows, and flawless black eyes. Her eyes widened in awe.

The man who had frightened her was, without a doubt, the most handsome person she had ever seen.

“You there.”

“My name is Astrid, Lord Lionel.”

Her stiff bow and rigidly straight posture betrayed her inexperience. It seemed she intended to mimic the demeanor of a servant of the Bowell family.

“…Ha.”

Something about this situation felt off. Caleb sighed again, but Astrid had already made up her mind.

“I’ll serve you to the best of my abilities, Lord Lionel.”

Not “sir” or “master,” but “Lord Lionel”? Her awkward attempt to sound servile while clinging to her noble airs was almost laughable.

‘Should I play along or call her out?’

While Caleb debated internally, Astrid’s heart raced so fast it felt like it might burst. The man standing before her was no ordinary guest of the Bowell family.

‘Our engagement was broken long ago. Could he have come to propose to Fabiola…?’

Meeting someone she should never have encountered, she knew the Duke—and worse, Fabiola—would never let this slide if they found out.

‘If they discover this, I might lose my chance to go to the convent.’

But she couldn’t ask him to leave, nor could she explain her circumstances in detail.

There was only one option.

Astrid resolved to play the role of a servant perfectly while he stayed.

‘I won’t be staying long. It’ll be fine.’

Astrid resolved as she tried to be, Astrid felt her heart pounding so hard it seemed ready to leap out of her chest.

“…Call me Caleb,” he said abruptly, feeling pity for her as she nervously stared at his lips.

For some reason, Caleb had a premonition that he might regret this moment later.

“Pardon? Oh, yes! Caleb, sir!”

But it didn’t matter. Tomorrow’s worries were for tomorrow.

Caleb placed his hand on her small head, which fit perfectly in his palm. Despite the rough haircut, her soft blonde hair tickled his fingers as he ruffled it. He couldn’t decide whether her desperate attempts to survive were pitiable or admirable.

“Ah!”

Watching Astrid freeze in shock reminded Caleb of Elkan back at Cliff Manor.

‘Whenever I ruffled his hair, he’d always start by yelling.’

Elkan, whom Caleb had practically raised as a younger brother, was never far from his thoughts. Thinking of him brought back memories of Cliff—harsh yet somehow peaceful.

‘I’m a man who always goes back in the end. Spending a bit of time here won’t hurt.’

“…Sir Caleb?”

Caleb’s deep, black eyes turned toward Astrid, breaking him from his reverie.

“Pfft!”

The sight of the girl with her hair now resembling a bird’s nest made Caleb burst into laughter.

The louder he laughed, the deeper the blush spread across Astrid’s cheeks.

***