Wine made by the special secret method of Saint Ernestine Abbey was quite famous. Though Levizet’s wine was also excellent, the flavor was somewhat different. But what caught her attention wasn’t that. It was the number 1660 delicately engraved on the glass bottle.

That was Grand Ernestine Royal 1660.

More than 50 years ago, a foreign noble ordered a large quantity of wine from Saint Ernestine Abbey, and the ship carrying the order took the wrong route and was shipwrecked. Decades later, when the ship was finally discovered, hundreds of bottles of wine were found. Wine that had been perfectly aged in the cold northern seawater and pressure.

Vintage wine over 50 years old.

Her heart momentarily raced. That was precious alcohol that only someone like an emperor could barely taste as a toast on the anniversary of decades of reign. Even she, daughter of Levizet called the lake of wine, had only seen it once from afar. Her mouth fell slightly open.

Only after seeing the faint smile on the man’s lips did she clear her throat in embarrassment. Ah, she must have shown too much excitement. He suddenly leaned his head toward her.

“If you win the wager with me, I’ll give you this.”

Are you crazy? Wagering that for hearing one story?

She wondered if he even knew the value of Grand Ernestine Royal 1660. That one bottle, no, even if you brought diamonds to fill three or four bottles, you’d barely reach that price.

No, even if you had that much money, could you even obtain it? That alcohol, rumored to have been retrieved by a mermaid of the North Sea, was something you couldn’t get even if you loaded money onto carts and headed north.

This sucker, if I miss this, I’m the sucker. The intense thought dominated her mind.

Nothing to lose. She shouted acceptance and picked up the game cards he had proposed.

***

She was cleaned out.

In this court, which was no different from a large-scale Gangwon Land in 21st century Earth terms, gambling tables opened as naturally as breathing. She had participated a few times herself. Of course, since she hadn’t been an adult for long, she had never joined serious gambling tables where large sums were at stake.

But perhaps her luck from being born with a golden spoon didn’t go anywhere—she had never lost in small betting tables where young ladies gathered to wager small accessories or silver coins. She wasn’t bad at games.

But the game cards the opponent casually tossed ate up all her cards. She had definitely been winning in the beginning. He seemed to throw them carelessly as if he wasn’t thinking, so how could he turn it around like this at the end?

The blond man’s lips drew a triumphant arc.

“I won.”

The ivory cards scattered on the table with a clattering sound. To actually lose. So Grand Ernestine Royal 1660 flew away like that. She sadly just stared at the bottle placed on the table. I dreamed a sweet dream. Yet the reason I cry so sadly is because that dream cannot come true.

Perhaps noticing her gaze, the blond man suddenly smiled wickedly. Had she stared too obviously? Feeling slightly embarrassed, she was turning her head when suddenly a clear ringing sound echoed. She reflexively turned her head and was startled. He was opening the bottle cork so nonchalantly.

The blond man calmly poured wine into a crystal glass and offered it to her as she stared blankly. When she received it in confusion, a rich aroma spread.

“Since I won, you can’t take the whole bottle.”

She smiled helplessly at him who clinked glasses as if joking.

“Thanks to you, I’m enjoying His Majesty the emperor’s luxury.”

“What? It’s nothing special.”

She became curious about the identity of the man who dismissed Grand Ernestine Royal 1660 as ‘nothing special.’ However, his words came faster than her curiosity could rise to her throat.

“Now then, please tell me your story.”

Thinking it wouldn’t be right to eat everything and then wipe her mouth clean, she opened her mouth. The alcohol had also helped somewhat.

“Have you ever felt that you were cowardly?”

***

Well, let me tell you a story.

There was a person.

Born just like any other ordinary person, took their first steps, learned about the world, made friends, and grew up.

When grown, like anyone else, they fell in love.

But the color of that person’s love was different. That person had to desperately hide that love.

Because it’s a world where being able to have conventional love qualifies one to discipline those who cannot.

But in the process, someone got hurt.

If left as is, that wound will feed on darkness and grow to destroy everything.

And there’s another person who happened to learn about all the inner workings.

The person who learned everything tries their best to protect the one who will be hurt.

But they can’t bring themselves to touch the root of that wound.

The fundamental problem can only be solved by revealing everything, but if everything is revealed, the person who hid their love will receive more punishment than the price they should pay for their sin. Just for having loved a little differently.

Sometimes I think it’s right to reveal it if someone is being hurt by that love, but love isn’t something that goes according to one’s will.

Also, the person hiding their love is a villain to someone, but to someone else, they’re also someone who shares memories and can’t let go of those memories.

If they were simply a villain, there wouldn’t be this much hesitation. But because what I mentioned earlier weighs so heavily, the person who learned everything can’t fully take either side.

Though it was a rambling story, the blond man listened quietly. Though it was a story she had tried to hide, speaking it aloud actually helped organize her thoughts. It was also easier to talk about because he was a stranger. He couldn’t possibly know what the story was about. She chuckled and put wine in her mouth. Feeling the heavenly flavor spread, she spoke self-deprecatingly.

“Isn’t that cowardly?”

Yes, if I were to define the feelings I harbor toward those who hurt each other by their very existence, on the surface it would be resentment. But if you opened the coffin lid buried six feet under, understanding and sympathy lay at the bottom. Subtle emotions. Those emotions resembled love and hate.

Even if the relationship withered like a rotten tree in the back-and-forth resentment, it was difficult to uproot the roots that had grown with decades of years as nourishment. Like the golden chains the swan children habitually wore around their necks.

“Why do you call that situation cowardly?”

The blond man asked. She could intuitively tell that he had noticed that the ‘person who learned everything’ in that story was her.

“Because the one person who could cut through the contradiction that hurts everyone lacks the courage.”

As she slowly traced the rim of the crystal glass while answering, the blond man was silent for a moment before opening his mouth.

“The ancient philosopher Vestianus compared life to a long war.”

She quickly raised her head at the unexpected words. The man continued.

“On the battlefield, there are times you should swing the sword and times you should retreat. Advancing when you should retreat is not courage but recklessness. No one calls someone cowardly for not swinging their sword in a situation where they must retreat.”

She smiled bitterly.

“How should one distinguish between when to retreat and when to advance?”

A simple answer fell.

“You must trust your own judgment.”

“Can I be confident that my judgment is correct?”

“Unless you’re a god, how could you make perfectly correct judgments?”

This brings us back to square one. She laughed helplessly.

“What’s the point then? Whether it becomes porridge or rice, it’s all the same.”

“Porridge…… rice?”

The man rolled the unfamiliar words in his mouth, but she didn’t respond and stared blankly at the scattered ivory game cards.

“Anyway, since the judgment is my responsibility, the guilt is still my responsibility too.”

The man slowly shook his head.

“You don’t need to bear all the consequences alone.”

“Earlier you said it was my judgment.”

At her sharp retort, the man smiled gently.

“You don’t fight a war alone. Similarly, even if you can’t make perfectly correct judgments, your comrades won’t let that responsibility become entirely your guilt. Do you have close ones who won’t betray you?”

At his words, several names flashed through her mind. Mother, Elene, Mélisande. And several others. The man continued.

“And even if the time comes when you can no longer retreat and must advance, you don’t necessarily have to swing the sword yourself.”

He took her hand and lifted it. Warm lips touched the back of her hand.

“As one who has become your knight, I will swing the sword in your stead.”

Simply kissing a hand was just common courtesy that a gentleman showed to a lady. Just as she didn’t count birds landing on tree branches, she had never paid particular attention to the breaths touching the back of her hand. But why this time……

“If that is your will, gladly.”

Why did the spot where the lips of the man who said she needn’t fight alone, who would gladly dirty his hands in her stead, touched feel like it was burning? It felt like heat rising from the back of her hand was pulsing up through veins and arteries.

It was fortunate she was wearing a mask. There was no chance of being caught with cheeks reddened by the heat that had risen to her face. Return to poker face, my face! While she was doing mind control with inconspicuous deep breaths, she suddenly flinched at a popping sound from outside.

“They seem to be doing fireworks.”

He extended his hand. It was a firm, large hand.

“Shall we watch together?”

The hand guiding her felt so warm that even after arriving at the balcony, she was thinking she didn’t want to let go of his hand when she suddenly came to her senses. Alix Levizet, are you crazy? You don’t even know who’s under that mask. You shouldn’t do that to someone you’ve just met!