“White bread with jam, cheese, and even ham? The supplies here are definitely better than in Cliff,” Caleb muttered as he rummaged through the basket left behind by the half-dead servant. He casually tossed out food and tasted a few items without hesitation.

Astrid, watching him, was stunned into silence.

She had been worrying about how to prepare his meal, only for Caleb to discover the basket and declare it unnecessary to prepare anything. He began rummaging through it on his own.

“What are you doing? Sit and eat with me. Here.”

“Ah!”

Startled, Astrid instinctively caught the bread Caleb tossed at her. Freshly baked, its warm, nutty aroma made her stomach rumble.

Eating at the same table as a nobleman? It felt inappropriate for a servant.

“N-no, I’m not hungry…”

Growl!

“…Your stomach seems to disagree,” Caleb remarked dryly, making Astrid’s blush deepen.

“Then, excuse me,” she replied, seating herself across from him.

From her brief observations, Caleb didn’t seem to adhere strictly to etiquette or formalities. It was confusing yet fascinating.

Refusing would have been impolite, and the gnawing hunger, combined with her fear of angering him, left her no choice.

“They say Croatans think with their muscles. It’s a mocking way of looking down on them, but I disagree,” her father once told her.

“They are practical people. Despite their harsh land, they’ve built a military strong enough to surpass Hestian. Astrid, I want you to see the wider world in Croatan. Hestian is nothing but a gilded cage for women. I can’t bear to leave you here.”

As recalled her father’s words.

‘If I could go to Croatan with him, would I finally see the world beyond this cage?’

It was a foolish thought, and she knew it.

Yet, seeing the man who was once her fiancé awakened a lingering attachment.

Caleb, on the other hand, observed her with a look of disapproval. She had been absent-mindedly nibbling on the same piece of bread for a while now.

“Click. Do you think you’ll be able to assist with my bath like this?”

“W-what? Cough, cough!”

Startled, As began choking. Caleb quickly moved behind her, patting her back with swift but forceful motions.

“Stop…”

“What?”

“P-please stop… It hurts…”

“…Ah.”

Caleb stepped back awkwardly, realizing he had overdone it. Dealing with such a petite girl wasn’t something he was accustomed to. He fetched a drink and handed it to her.

“Thank you, Sir Caleb.”

“You’re welcome.”

Gulp, gulp. Astrid gratefully downed the drink, feeling its soothing coolness.

“…Phew.”

As soon as she emptied the large goblet, a faint sense of calm began to settle. However, something felt off. Her vision swirled, and it was clear that this wasn’t just fruit juice. A distinct aroma of wine lingered around her nose.

“Apologies, it’s wine. Just one glass—this much should be fine, right?”

“…Ah.”

Caleb’s idea of “one glass” was based on the standards of a fully grown Croatan man. Naturally, the amount was far too much for a young noblewoman.

“Hey, hey!”

Astrid, who had been smiling absentmindedly, collapsed softly into Caleb’s arms. He caught her awkwardly, wearing an expression of mild exasperation.

“This makes two.”

Her pale, porcelain face and slightly parted lips revealed a delicate vulnerability. Her soft, even breaths hinted at just how exhausted she truly was.

“So, who’s supposed to be attending to whom here?”

Caleb gently placed Astrid down on the chair. He grabbed his discarded cloak and draped it over her. His rough handling left her slender legs peeking out, but it was the best he could do.

After a moment spent gazing at the sleeping girl slumped over the chair, Caleb crossed his arms and closed his eyes. Resigned to the situation, he decided to take advantage of the silence in the room and rest.

But he didn’t remain still for long. His eyes snapped open when the sound of light footsteps reached his sharp ears.

Caleb had been raised in Cliff, a borderland plagued by frequent monster attacks. For the knights of Cliff, fighting such creatures was a daily occurrence, and Caleb was no exception.

Thanks to that upbringing, the knights of the Grand Duke of Cliff boasted unparalleled strength, even in the military powerhouse of Croatan. Their exceptional swordsmanship, heightened senses, and lightning-fast reflexes were both a blessing and a curse bestowed by the harsh land they called home.

The rustle of leaves, the faint weight of footsteps on them, and the murmur of hushed voices. Caleb honed his focus, listening intently to the sounds from outside. Straightening his posture, he assessed the situation.

“…Judging by the light steps, it’s women. Likely two of them. And they’re heading for this annex. Who could it be?”

He had explicitly instructed the staff not to disturb him.

A frown darkened Caleb’s striking features. He had a nagging feeling that something troublesome was about to unfold.

“Lord Lionel, are you inside?”

A voice pierced the silence, jolting Astrid awake.

“…!”

“Shh.”

Caleb placed a finger against his lips, signaling her to stay quiet. Startled, Astrid quickly calmed herself and nodded.

“Who’s there?”

Caleb’s deep voice resonated through the room, colder and sharper than usual. Astrid instinctively shrank back at the sudden shift in his tone.

He was a man who never rushed.

For a noble, his speech was unrefined, and his moods were written plainly across his face. Yet, there was an unshakable air of leisure about him—a predator’s languid confidence after a satisfying hunt.

It was evident, even to Astrid, that Caleb Lionel was someone who could unleash savage fury at a moment’s notice.

“Lady Fabiola is here to see you, my lord. She’s personally prepared supper. May we come in?”

Without thinking, Astrid turned to Caleb and shook her head frantically. Though her voice failed her, her pleading gaze implored him not to let Fabiola in.

Surely, this man, with his unexpected moments of kindness, might consider her request.

“Thank you for your effort. Please, come in, Lady Fabiola.”

But her hope was misplaced.

Caleb watched as Astrid’s once-hopeful eyes dulled with disappointment. He felt a fleeting pang of guilt but dismissed it. There was no reason to turn away Fabiola, especially when he still needed to obtain the potions she had brought.

For now, he had no intention of jeopardizing his arrangement with her.

“Caleb, as I’ve said repeatedly, you must restrain yourself! Even if it’s bothersome or unpleasant—no frowning like that! And please, act the part of a refined nobleman. There you go, much better.”

“Sir Cradoc.”

“Yes?”

“Am I your dog?”

“What nonsense are you spouting now—”

“I get it, stop treating me like a pet. Basically, you’re saying I should play nice and put on an act as a proper nobleman.”

Caleb recalled Sir Cradoc’s incessant lectures before he departed for Hestian. It was clear Cradoc feared Caleb might cause trouble, but Caleb wasn’t an idiot.

When necessary, he could don the mask of a nobleman.

The Grand Duchess of Cliff, his mother, rigorously trained him not only in swordsmanship but also in etiquette and basic academics. Thanks to this, Caleb could effortlessly play the role of a refined and intellectual young nobleman.

Even if it made him feel nauseous.

Caleb cast a sidelong glance at Fabiola, who was glaring at Astrid with a face brimming with hatred. It felt like trying to avoid a small discomfort only to encounter a greater disaster.

He had no intention of getting involved in the power struggle between women. After all, such things were rare in the rough, male-dominated Cliff estate.

Caleb had no immunity to these kinds of situations.

“…Astrid?”

Fabiola, dressed in an elegant evening gown, furrowed her beautiful brows.

‘Why is she here? And with my future fiancé, no less.’

Her sharp gaze shifted from the frozen Astrid to the nanny standing beside her.

“L-Lady, I had no idea! The new madam…!”

“The new madam?”

At the unwelcome term, Fabiola bit down on her red lips. Before entering the convent, Astrid had requested to stay with her family at the Bowell estate.

Fabiola, having seen the letter sent to her father, Duke Bowell, had asked him to refuse, and he had readily agreed. She had assumed Astrid would be sent to an inn or shelter. But now, it seemed the new stepmother had intervened and brought Astrid into the estate.

‘This was done just to spite me.’

Fabiola couldn’t suppress the rising discomfort.

Even if it was a neglected annex, the fact that Astrid was staying within the Bowell estate was unbearable.

Moreover, being with Caleb, her fiancé-to-be, added fuel to her anxiety and rage. Thoughts of the two possibly discussing their past engagement left her feeling unsteady.

Not that it mattered.

Astrid had been married once and was now a widow, stripped of her status as Bowell’s young lady. No pragmatic Croatan noble would want her based on a bygone connection.

Besides, Astrid’s current appearance was pitiful. Even if she claimed to be the Bowell family’s daughter, Caleb wouldn’t believe her.

Still, Fabiola couldn’t shake off her growing sense of unease.

“Lady, I…”

Lady?

Fabiola’s sharp eyes landed directly on Astrid. On edge, she watched Astrid closely, wondering what she might say in Caleb’s presence.

“L-Lady Bowell. The servant at the annex was severely injured, and Lord Caleb instructed me to serve him in his place.”

Fabiola was momentarily speechless.

So, Astrid was implying that Caleb mistook her for a servant of the Bowell estate and ordered her to serve him.

Well, considering her current state, how many would recognize her as a woman, let alone a noble?

‘She must’ve been too ashamed to reveal her true identity.’

Fabiola’s previously tense lips curled into a delicate smile.

“Lord Caleb, wouldn’t it be more comfortable for you to move elsewhere rather than stay in the annex?”

“I appreciate your thoughtful concern, My Lady. However, it would be improper to stay under the same roof with you before our engagement. I wouldn’t want to tarnish your noble reputation.”

“…Ah. If that’s the case.”

Fabiola’s face turned a rosy shade as she beamed. Astrid found it difficult to watch and kept her gaze fixed on the ground throughout their formal goodbyes.

Even when Caleb kissed Fabiola’s hand as she handed over a basket of food.

“Stop staring at the ground.”

“…Oh.”

“You shouldn’t look so defeated, even in front of a lady of the house.”

“I…”

“Did you commit a crime? Straighten your shoulders and back. Look forward. Eyes ahead!”

With a casual pat on Astrid’s shoulder and back, Caleb adjusted her posture. Though his touch was gentler than before, it still caused Astrid’s small frame to sway.

“Ugh…!”

Dazed, Astrid stood upright as Caleb directed.

“Look at me.”

“….”

“That’s right. Never avoid eye contact with your opponent. It’s like admitting defeat before the fight even begins.”

Astrid wondered why Caleb was giving her advice. He believed her to be a servant, yet he acted as if he were teaching her how to handle confrontations like the one with Fabiola.

Her blue eyes met his black ones. Caleb nodded in approval, seemingly satisfied.

Even Cliff’s knights rarely held Caleb’s gaze for long. But Astrid, undaunted, didn’t back down, and Caleb found her resolve impressive.

“Well done.”

His cold face softened into a smile, transforming completely.

The smooth curve of his lips lifted slightly, revealing an exceptionally handsome man reflected in Astrid’s blue eyes.

Her heart, which had been momentarily frozen by Fabiola’s presence, started to beat rapidly—only to abruptly stop.

“…Oh.”

Caleb’s large hand came to rest on the crown of her head.

Rustle, rustle. His hand, rough but deliberate, ruffled her hair, and Astrid thought the warmth of his touch was overwhelming.