Chapter 4

Several days had passed since she last saw Demian. She took a small breath in front of the greenhouse door. The moment when her words had broken his composure was still vivid in her mind.

Would he really not come to see her after hearing such things? Something—whether hope or anxiety—kept tickling her heart.

“…….”

With some effort, she finally managed to open the greenhouse door. Northerners seemed to have boundless strength; even a single door was absurdly heavy.

‘As expected…….’

There was no sign of anyone in the greenhouse. A strange sense of disappointment washed over her, and she bit her lip.

“Ah…….”

She gazed quietly at a tree as its leaves fell in clusters. All the flowers hung their heads low.

Their barely surviving state was not much different from her own.

She hoped they wouldn’t break completely…… She crouched down and reached out to touch an unknown yellow flower.

“Have you been well?”

The sudden voice startled her so much she nearly planted her nose into the ground. She barely regained her balance and looked up.

“…Demian?”

Demian stood there, his head slightly tilted. He seemed a bit gaunt after a few days; the fatigue on his face gave him a strangely disheveled look. She felt nervous, her mouth suddenly dry.

“If you’ve been well, I’d feel a bit disappointed. I haven’t been doing well, you see.”

His smile was gloomy. Her heart started pounding.

“Why did you come again? I said I didn’t want to cause misunderstandings.”

She deliberately avoided his gaze. Unconsciously, a hint of resentment crept into her voice.

“Hmm… Please don’t misunderstand. Whether you believe me or not, I didn’t come here for any personal reason.”

“…Then?”

“It’s just that this is my new assignment.”

“What are you talking about all of a sudden?”

“I’ve changed jobs. I’m a gardener now.”

“What? Don’t say such ridiculous things.”

She frowned in disbelief. Demian shrugged, exuding both leisure and boredom.

“Why is it so unbelievable?”

“They put a man like you in charge of gardening?”

“What kind of man am I, in your eyes, Your Grace?”

His question was casual, with a hint of mischief. She bit her lip, trying not to blush.

“You’re the North’s proud knight, surely more familiar with swords and shields than watering cans or trowels.”

“You’re jumping to conclusions. I’m more versatile than you think. Anything else?”

His words were oddly brief. She glared at him, intending to intimidate, but Demian just laughed. Her attempt at a snarl was laughable, given she was half his size.

“First, let me help you up, Your Grace.”

Demian extended his hand to her, large enough to envelop both of hers at once. The memory of their first meeting made her heart flutter slightly. She hesitated, then reached out.

He easily helped her to her feet. She tried not to notice the warmth transferred through his hand.

“Sir Demian, you still haven’t answered me. Why did you come here?”

“I told you. I’m the gardener.”

“Are you teasing me?”

“Why don’t you believe me?”

He let out a sigh, as if genuinely aggrieved. His sly attitude irritated her.

“I saw for myself at our first meeting that you’re a remarkable knight.”

“Why make such a fuss? There are plenty of knights at my level in the North.”

“That can’t be. I know how tough monsters are to kill.”

She stepped closer to Demian. Not quite close enough for their chests to touch, but close enough for their breaths to brush. His cheeks tightened for a moment, perhaps flustered.

“Putting someone who can dispatch monsters with a single blow in charge of gardening is a waste of talent.”

“…….”

“If the North really doesn’t consider people’s abilities or aptitudes, then as the Grand Duchess, I should step in.”

“An impressive opinion, but how?”

Demian asked, one corner of his mouth raised. She took a deep breath, refusing to rise to his provocation.

“There are plenty of ways. If nothing else, I’ll make a suggestion to my husband.”

“To His Grace the Grand Duke?”

“Why do you sound so surprised? Do you think it’s impossible?”

“I firmly believe you’re not one to make empty promises… but His Grace is a very busy man, isn’t he?”

“That’s not a problem. After the wedding, we’ll have plenty of time alone as a couple.”

“I see……. I suppose I can’t even imagine, since I’m unmarried.”

Boasting about her relationship with a husband she hadn’t even met made her feel hollow. But she already had a history of getting caught by Demian while trying to escape. It was better to pretend to wish for a happy marriage with the Grand Duke than to arouse suspicion of running away again.

Demian watched her with undisguised interest in his eyes. Somehow, that gaze felt strangely intimate, making her conscious even of her own breathing.

“By the way, His Grace is rather indifferent, isn’t he?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why is he so busy, leaving his new bride alone like this? If someone as beautiful as you were my wife…….”

Demian abruptly closed his mouth. He lowered his silver-gray eyes and let out a slow sigh. His face was shadowed with fatigue.

“I’m sorry. That crossed the line. It was a slip of the tongue. Please forgive me, Your Grace.”

“…It’s fine. I understand.”

He buried his face in his hands. Even his regretful pose looked picturesque.

He certainly had a face that made one want to forgive anything, but the subtle tension between them since their first meeting was not always pleasant.

She decided to draw a clearer line and carefully chose the next topic.

“And I really am fine now, Sir Demian. His Grace is just very busy, and I’ve realized he’s not indifferent to me.”

“Hmm…….”

“The entire North rests on his shoulders, so I should understand.”

“…….”

“I’m sure he’s actually a kind person. That’s why the Northerners respect and follow him so much. Don’t you think?”

Demian frowned slightly as he looked up. He seemed to have something to say, but ultimately added nothing.

“Anyway, I’m going to be the best wife I can for him. I believe that if I’m a good wife, he’ll understand my heart.”

“That’s… something to look forward to.”

Demian twitched his lips, trying not to laugh.

“What? Why are you looking forward to my marriage?”

“Ah, maybe I’ve overstepped again.”

She didn’t know why he was laughing, but at least the atmosphere softened a little. Demian circled around her, feigning distraction.

“…….”

He slowly wandered through the greenhouse, then stopped abruptly. The tension in his back suggested he’d found something.

“But this flower… it looks like it’s come back to life.”

Following Demian’s gaze, she saw that one yellow flower was unusually vibrant. Was it the one she’d touched earlier? Demian gestured toward it.

“Isn’t that the flower you touched earlier, Your Grace?”

“The one I was looking at was already wilting. You must be mistaken. It’s a different flower.”

She wasn’t a saint; touching a plant wouldn’t revive it. She tried to dismiss it, but Demian’s gaze lingered on the flower.

“Sir Demian?”

Lost in thought, his eyes grew deep and dark. When she called him again, he snapped out of it and shook his head, as if to clear away his doubts.

“Come to think of it, it’s gotten quite late. I think it’s best to end today’s walk here, Your Grace.”

Demian pointed outside the greenhouse. It was already dark, but his sudden rush to part ways seemed a bit suspicious.

“There’s no danger inside the ducal residence, but it’s a bit late for a lady to walk alone.”

“That sounds more like something a knight would say than a gardener.”

At her remark, Demian wrinkled his nose.

“Of course, I’m saying this as a gardener.”

“A gardener? Why?”

“If you insist on a reason, it’s because your beauty outshines every flower in the greenhouse, Your Grace…….”

“Please stop!”

His shameless words made her face burn. She covered her cheeks, genuinely grateful that it was dark outside.

“Thank you for stopping me from becoming an even more cliché man, Your Grace. That was an excellent decision.”

She shot him a glare. Even though he flirted with her, she couldn’t bring herself to dislike him. Maybe it was because his actions didn’t cross any lines, unlike his words.

She turned her head sharply and headed for the greenhouse exit. Demian, following, held the heavy door for her. She was about to thank him out of courtesy, but his face looked unexpectedly cold.

“Sweet dreams, Grand Duchess.”

Before she could react, he smiled softly, his languid voice echoing in her ears. She felt her whole body flush in an instant.

She nodded foolishly and walked past him. Much later, she heard Demian’s low laughter.

Someday, she would shatter that composure. Feeling a bit vexed, she made a new resolution as she headed to her bedroom.

* * *

She was fleeing to the greenhouse to avoid Donna’s usual enthusiastic invitation to exercise.

“…Grand Duchess.”

Someone called out to her, and she stopped in her tracks.

A woman with deep brown hair, wearing an obviously luxurious dress, stood before her. With sharp features and a large build, she was the classic Northern beauty.

‘Who was she?’

She tried to recall the Northern noble directory she’d studied all night. There were so many similar types that it was confusing……

“Gisela! Where are you?”

As she studied the woman’s face, a middle-aged man rounded the corner and appeared before them.

“Ah, Grand Duchess.”

He spotted her and bowed. A thin scar ran from his forehead almost directly over his right eye.

“I, Gunther Royce, greets you, Your Grace, the Grand Duchess.”

The name Gunther Royce was familiar. She remembered Donna passionately describing Northern nobles’ loyalty, mentioning that Earl Royce had received a facial wound protecting the young Grand Duke.

“Earl Royce, good morning.”

“Your Grace, you’ve already met my daughter. Gisela, were you chatting with the Grand Duchess?”

The father smiled, perhaps insincerely, but the daughter’s lips were tightly pressed together as if holding something back.

“…I was just about to introduce myself, Father.”

“Your Grace, this is my daughter, Gisela Royce.”

“Nice to meet you, Lady Royce.”

It seemed this was her first meeting with the Earl’s daughter, so she greeted her. But at her greeting, Gisela’s expression twisted instantly.

“Gisela will be serving as your maid, Your Grace. To become the Grand Duchess’s maid is the greatest honor for my daughter…….”

Earl Royce didn’t get to finish. Gisela Royce let out a loud sob and buried her face in her hands.

“Father, I can’t do this. It’s too humiliating and miserable……! His Grace is really… really too much!”

“Gisela!”

“To order a woman he once kept close to become his wife’s maid!”

Unlike most Northerners, Gisela poured out her emotions in a flood of resentment.

‘What was this, all of a sudden?’