“So, what’s the price? What do you want in return?”

“Huh? Nothing, really… Just pretend you never saw me here, and that will be enough.”

“Tsk. And what will you do if I break that promise?”

“…!”

Caleb was right. If he broke his word and exposed her crime, Astrid’s life would end there. She had no means of defending herself—no tools, no weapons, nothing. Even if accused of touching forbidden texts, she had no way to prove her innocence.

But Astrid was confident.

“You won’t do that, my lord.”

“And why is that?”

Caleb’s dark eyes gleamed with amusement.

“Because exposing my wrongdoing wouldn’t benefit you. You don’t strike me as someone who would bother with such a tiresome task.”

“…What?”

Caleb let out a scoffing laugh as if she had just said something ridiculous.

Astrid, nervous yet resolute, met his gaze squarely. Her voice trembled slightly but remained clear as she played her final card.

“The materials you seek are not in this library but in the Abbot’s office at the monastery.”

“…Hmm.”

“But you’re fortunate, my lord. You won’t need to go that far to obtain what you want.”

“What do you mean?”

“All the information you need is right here.”

Astrid lifted a pale, slender finger and pointed to her head.

That’s right—Astrid had once transcribed a book on potion recipes for the Abbot, Julio, and her exceptional memory had retained every word.

No one would have imagined that Astrid, a widow and outcast, could understand or memorize the complex magical formulas, symbols, and terms in that book. Not even Julio, the one person in the monastery who had shown her any kindness, knew the full extent of her abilities.

In Hestian, a woman’s talent often became her curse, especially for those branded as sinners under the title of “widow.”

“Hestian’s treasure was here all along.”

Caleb’s words made Astrid’s eyes widen. It had been so long since anyone called her by that name, evoking memories of her old nickname: Bowell’s jewel.

“Since I’ve found a treasure, it’s only natural I claim it. I must have you for myself.”

Caleb’s large hand suddenly reached out and gripped Astrid’s chin.

“…!”

Astrid could only look up at him, stunned into silence, unable to breathe.

Thump. 

In that moment, her heart pounded loudly, hammering against her chest. She couldn’t control the erratic beating, no matter how much she tried.

Why? Why is this happening?

She tried to convince herself it was due to nerves, but no explanation could quell the wild rhythm of her heart.

***

St. Francesca Monastery Abbot’s Office

The quiet, peaceful atmosphere of the office now carried an unusual tension.

The cause of this unease was the man sitting across from Abbot Julio—Caleb Lionel. His casual, slightly arrogant posture was ill-suited for a nobleman or knight.

As the nephew of Croatan’s king and the sole heir to Grand Duchy of Cliff, his presence at this remote monastery was baffling.

‘Surely, Croatan knows nothing of me. This is strange.’

Suppressing his questions, Julio maintained a polite smile.

“It’s an honor, Lord Lionel. I must thank you for traveling all the way to our secluded monastery. But may I ask what brings you to St. Francesca?”

Caleb cast a sidelong glance at the man before him. He had assumed that abbots were all corpulent and greasy, with bellies full of indulgence.

Yet, the man standing before him was reasonably well-built and carried a somewhat respectable appearance.

‘Even so, one of them is still just one of them.’

A crooked smirk played at Caleb’s lips. Prejudices aside, he had no desire to interact with the people of Hestian—not for a single day if he could help it.

Rather than wasting time on unnecessary formalities, Caleb decided to cut straight to the point.

“I’ve come for something.”

“What? I’m not sure what you mean… What could you possibly seek in our monastery…?”

“My missing fiancée. Astrid Bowell. I’ve come to take her back.”

An uncomfortable silence fell between the two men, heavy and suffocating. It was Julio who eventually broke it.

“…Astrid Bowell, you say?”

To say that his response was lackluster would be an understatement. Caleb’s previously relaxed expression hardened instantly.

“Must I repeat myself?”

Julio’s face stiffened slightly at the sudden shift to rudeness, though the polite smile on his lips remained fixed.

The man before him was no ordinary noble. Caleb Lionel was the heir to Grand Duchy of Cliff, the hero who had recently led a successful monster extermination campaign, and possibly next in line to take his uncle’s crown. Even the Pope himself had acknowledged Caleb as a person of considerable influence and power.

‘He’s showing his barbaric nature already.’

Julio swallowed the disgust rising within him. As a devout Hestian, he despised the people of Croatan.

To him, the Croatan lacked faith, morality, and culture—unfit to be considered equals, even if one bore the blood of royalty. Caleb Lionel was no exception.

‘Why did it have to be Astrid?’

Julio had heard of Caleb’s broken engagement with Lady Fabiola but hadn’t imagined things would come to this.

Even with the Pope’s prior suggestion to accommodate Caleb’s requests, this development had been entirely unforeseen.

“Though it was only verbal, our engagement was established when we were children. There’s no issue there, is there? I’m taking the lady with me immediately.”

“Do you have proof of this engagement?”

“…What?”

Caleb sneered at Julio’s question, the sound dripping with disdain.

‘What’s his game? It can’t be that he’s clinging to that frail girl’s labor… What is it?’

Caleb’s sharp gaze swept over Julio’s form, brimming with hostility. Though Julio felt the piercing weight of the stare, he met it with a composed expression.

“Once someone enters this monastery, they are bound to a lifetime of repentance. Unless they commit a grave enough sin to warrant expulsion, they are not permitted to leave until their death. There are no exceptions for sinners.”

“Hah. You sure have a knack for spewing nonsense.”

The insult hit Julio squarely, his face paling. Never in his life had he experienced such direct humiliation.

Unbothered, Caleb continued speaking, his tone growing more abrasive.

“Fine. Let’s settle this directly. Bring Lady Astrid Bowell here. And heed my warning.”

“…”

“If you utter the word ‘sinner’ in her presence again, I’ll show you exactly what it means to be the barbarian you so despise.”

A cold smile spread across Caleb’s face, revealing gleaming white teeth. The scar slashing across his handsome features only emphasized the latent threat in his expression.

In that moment, Julio felt a chill crawl up his spine.

The man before him resembled a ravenous beast—logic and persuasion were futile against such a predator.

***

One Month Prior

A letter had arrived at Cliff Estate in the aftermath of the monster extermination campaign. It bore the seal of the Hestian noble, Duke Linton Bowell.

⌜To the Honorable Lord Lionel,

I have heard the news of Grand Duchess Cliff’s passing. Please accept my condolences, though they are offered from afar.

It grieves me to bring you such unfortunate news. My only daughter, and your fiancée, Lady Fabiola, has fallen ill with a severe fever. While she is now recovering after a long period of suffering, she has sustained a permanent injury.

The injury, regrettably, impacts her ability to bear heirs. My daughter came to me, her father, and requested the dissolution of her engagement. Despite my suggestions to fabricate an alternative explanation, she refused, saying that it would not be honorable to you.

It is with deep regret that we are unable to unite our families. I hope you will remember that we remain eternal friends.

For the sake of the fond memories we share, I ask you to conceal Fabiola’s shortcomings. I humbly make this request of you.

May your future be filled with fortune and divine blessings.

Sincerely,

Linton Bowell of Hestian⌟

“…Hah!”

The letter bearing the seal of the Bowell family was crumpled violently in Caleb’s large hand. Cradoc, who practically snatched the letter from him, read it, and his face turned livid with rage.

“What! A broken engagement? How is this even acceptable?”

“Hm. It’s not, unless there’s a better prospect than becoming the Grand Duchess of Cliff.”

Calm and indifferent, Elkan’s reply only fanned Cradoc’s anger, his voice rising further.

“Elkan! What nonsense is this? A better prospect than being the Grand Duchess of Cliff? That’s impossible!”

“Why not? The position of a queen, or at the very least, the wife of a duke in a larger kingdom—those would certainly be preferable to being Grand Duchess of Cliff.”

Already irked by Elkan’s tone, Cradoc’s temper flared further at what he perceived as a slight against the Grand Duchy of Cliff. The veins in his neck bulged visibly.

“What nonsense is this? How dare you say such things in front of Lord Caleb!”

“Elkan is right. Cliff is harsh, barren land. It’s cold and desolate—hardly a place for a noble lady to live.”

“But, Lord Caleb!”

“Sir Cradoc, Lord Caleb is correct. No matter how strong our knights, how vast our wealth, or how great our honor, a lady who dreams of a glamorous life like those in the royal capital will never find it here.”

Unwilling to accept Elkan’s reasoning, Cradoc’s voice grew louder in protest.

“Even so, this is outrageous! Whose side are you on, Elkan?”

“Living a lifetime surrounded by sweaty knights, enduring the cold, and constantly battling monsters—young ladies might well consider it no different from being imprisoned.”

“But Duke Bowell agreed to this engagement three years ago! What reason could he have to send a letter of annulment now, unless he’s lost his mind?”

“Well, as to his exact reasons, I cannot say. But…”

“But what?”

Cradoc, his face flushed with fury, and Caleb, scowling darkly, both turned their gazes toward Elkan.

“Those rumors, my lord…”

“What rumors?”

Caleb’s low voice carried a clear warning, making his displeasure evident.

Even Elkan, the strategist of the Cliff knights and one of the few who could speak freely to Caleb, hesitated now.

After a moment’s pause, Elkan spoke cautiously.

“Well… rumors about you, Lord Caleb. That you tore monsters apart with your bare hands. That you ate their flesh raw and drank their blood. That you’re not a monster slayer but look like a monster yourself. That you sneak out at night to devour children…”

“Gah!”

Elkan’s feet left the ground as Caleb grabbed him by the collar and lifted him effortlessly.

“So it was you, Elkan? A rat spreading those rumors was hiding right here?”

“Urgh!”

Caleb watched dispassionately as the already pale Elkan’s face drained of color.

Crash! With an indifferent expression, Caleb threw Elkan aside.

“…Ugh!”

Despite his apparent frailty, Elkan managed to break his fall with a decent landing—a testament to Caleb’s training.

With a hint of approval, Caleb reached out to help Elkan to his feet. Elkan, swaying unsteadily like a stalk of wheat in the autumn breeze, couldn’t resist Caleb’s strength.

“Pathetic. Weakling.”

“It’s not that I’m weak, my lord… cough!”

“I told you to put down the books and run ten laps around the training grounds instead. Starting today…”

“Lady Astrid!”

“What?”

Caleb’s brow furrowed deeply, cutting off his scolding mid-sentence.

A name he hadn’t thought of in three years suddenly surfaced in his mind: Astrid Bowell. A girl he’d met in Hestian years ago—dressed in rags, thin to the point of frailty, her golden hair unevenly shorn, her pale, delicate face framed by piercingly intelligent blue eyes.

It was a name he had all but forgotten.

The unexpected mention of Astrid made Caleb’s striking features twist slightly in thought.

“…Why bring her up?”

“You should take Lady Astrid as your grand duchess!”

“What?”

“What nonsense are you spouting now, Elkan?” Caleb and Cradoc exclaimed simultaneously, their expressions a mix of disbelief.

“With Lady Fabiola out of the picture, Lady Astrid is the only remaining eligible Bowell. To commercialize the vast amount of magic stones acquired during the monster extermination campaign, Bowell’s cooperation is essential. My lord, do not let the Grand Duchess’ death be in vain.”

At the mention of the Grand Duchess’ death, Caleb’s half-open mouth snapped shut.

Ever since returning from the monster extermination campaign, there had been an unspoken rule among them—not to mention the Grand Duchess’ death.

During the campaign, the Grand Duchess of Cliff, who had led the vanguard, had fallen.

Early one morning, while patrolling the encampment as was her custom, she had encountered a monster. She fought alone but was ultimately overpowered—its formidable claws had pierced her abdomen. Caleb, arriving shortly after, found her gravely wounded, the poison already coursing through her veins.

“Caleb. Protect Cliff at all costs. The monsters are still multiplying… I saw that thing’s belly—it was swollen. It must have been carrying its spawn.”

“You mean the mother got you?”

“…I should have killed even one more of them. They keep multiplying endlessly. If Cliff, the barrier of Croatan, falls, it could mean the end of the world. Caleb, never let them pass through Cliff. That is the mission of the Grand Duke of Cliff… Never forget that…”

With lips blackened by poison, her mother repeated her plea. The Grand Duchess of Cliff, who had dedicated her life to defending Croatan, breathed her last in her son’s arms.

It was a death befitting a knight.

To honor that death, Caleb had to leave Cliff before the blood on his mother’s body had even dried.

It was a journey to find the one woman destined to become the Grand Duchess of Cliff—a woman born of Bowell but fated to become a Lionel: Astrid Bowell.