Thanks to Duchess Pichet’s noisy fuss, the two easily attracted the attention of everyone present at the party.

Quickly surrounded by people, Lucienne glanced at him, seemingly troubled by the barrage of questions. Lars began to enjoy watching Lucienne struggle alone, nodding along with whatever she said.

Today, Lucienne was truly dazzlingly beautiful.

Due to the Duchess’s lavish tastes, everyone attended her parties with more attention to their appearance than other events. Though all wore clothing of luxurious materials with expensive ornaments, Lucienne stood out as the undisputed star of the party.

Lucienne’s beauty was already famous, but due to the gloomy rumors about the Bickman family, she hadn’t been a topic of conversation for a while. It was also because she hadn’t shown her face in social circles. As people who had seen her in person decreased, everyone had come to think of her appearance as more gloomy and dark than it actually was—until she appeared so radiantly like this.

He could feel people’s gazes shifting little by little as they observed her engaging in witty conversation while facing others with an elegantly smiling face. The same was true for Lars himself.

She no longer looked like a young girl.

In the battlefield where life and death hung in the balance in an instant, he had once imagined just such a scene. It was the night before ambushing the hiding place of the Duncan family’s army.

Unable to sleep, Lars had stepped outside his tent and was looking around the plain filled with darkness and silence. He had been lucky to avoid death so far, but tomorrow might be different. It would be a dangerous day. Every day was like that, though.

Pelowic had begged him to please return, but Lars hadn’t listened. His participation in that war wasn’t solely to help Edmus or Prince Pelowic.

While crossing over to Freemont, orchestrating Pelowic’s marriage, contacting Leon, and monitoring Freemont II’s movements, the desire for revenge against Balshwin had taken root in his mind.

Killing Balshwin wasn’t an easy task. Sneaking into the castle alone for an assassination was nearly impossible, and attacking with a mercenary group would lead to war. If it had been easy to kill Balshwin, he would have done so from the beginning.

That’s why he needed power, and Freemont’s civil war was an opportunity to gain that power.

In truth, life wasn’t anything special to him. There was no great joy, nothing to look forward to. Long ago, when he left the palace to fight in the Askun War, he had been so desperate to survive that he hadn’t thought seriously about life. He had merely breathed following his instincts.

When Pelowic came to him as the Askun War was ending, crying and asking for help, he thought it might serve as his purpose in life.

Since he had nothing to do besides surviving, he figured it wouldn’t be bad to live for something rather than continuing as he had been.

That’s how he jumped into this affair. And then one day, he unexpectedly met a little girl who burst into the confessional to confess her sins.

Suddenly, the face with clever eyes shining clearly against the backdrop of stars filling the pitch-black night sky of the plain came to mind, making him smile.

Lucienne was a strange child.

She tackled everything with an indomitable will, exceeding expectations, and charging forward as if nothing frightened her. Lars was clearly aware of his attraction to the girl’s recklessness and fighting spirit, which sometimes appeared foolhardy.

For him, who had always lived with one foot half-submerged in death, breathing without any particular purpose, Lucienne’s vitality—continuously cultivating something of her own volition—seemed almost mystical.

She was different yesterday, today, and tomorrow. To the point where he wondered how it was possible, Lucienne lived each day as if she were running.

Perhaps that’s why.

Why I think of you whenever I face a moment close to death.

Even as he bled in his final moments, Kirhin smiled thinking of Lucienne. The same was true for him. Because of her, he was curious about tomorrow, and he laughed at trivial things. Sometimes he even thought such days were enjoyable. It was a feeling he had never experienced before.

‘I’ll protect you. From those dangers you live in.’

He smiled wryly, remembering her pale face that had confidently spoken those words with shining eyes despite having just regained consciousness in an exhausted state. He took out the perfume bottle deeply tucked in his chest. His fingertips gradually tightened as he caressed the delicate carving.

He had to return alive.

He had to return alive to read the letter Hardy had sent.

He had to return alive to see her again—in whatever form—standing straight with that burning vitality.

He could see Lucienne smiling elegantly in her favorite green dress amid envious gazes.

He wanted to make her like that, even when he wasn’t by her side. Without fail.

……That’s what he had thought.

A smile escaped that lifted the corner of his mouth, followed by a woman’s fussy voice saying, “Oh my.”

“Please answer me. How did you get such a beautiful necklace? Was it perhaps a family heirloom passed down from your ancestors?”

Lady Temasi was looking at Lucienne’s neck with greedy eyes, almost as if licking it. Seeing Lucienne glaring at him with eyes that seemed unable to bear it any longer due to his continued delay in answering, Lars gave her a slight smile and opened his mouth.

“I have no ancestors, madam. My title was earned through military achievements.”

“Ah……”

Temasi trailed off with a slightly reddened face, covering her mouth with her fan. Lars smoothly continued to prevent the atmosphere from becoming awkward.

“I received various gifts from His Majesty the King of Freemont. There were boxes full of jewels piled up like mountains, but I had no particular use for them, so I found a good craftsman and told him to create a one-of-a-kind ornament. I said he could use as many jewels as needed to make something most splendid and noble.”

The women’s eyes began to sparkle. Turning his head slightly, he saw that Lucienne was also looking at him with a curious expression. Lars lifted her hand and lightly kissed the back of it as he spoke.

“I’m glad they found a suitable place instead of being buried in storage forever.”

Sighs mixed with envy and jealousy erupted from here and there. Lars faced Lucienne, who looked dazed with her lips parted, and smiled leisurely. For some reason, he enjoyed seeing that expression on her face.

“I heard that Miss Lucienne was the one who proposed first, but it seems the Duke has fallen even deeper, hohoho.”

“May I ask what you found so charming about her?”

A woman with a mole under her eye asked, gesturing toward Lucienne. He responded calmly.

“I had seen her before.”

“Pardon?”

As Lucienne’s eyes widened, Lars raised his eyebrows. He glanced around at the women gathered around them and elaborated.

“It happened when I couldn’t sleep for three days before a surprise attack on the battlefield. I briefly dozed off at dawn and saw a woman in my dream. She wore a laurel wreath, so I thought she was the goddess of victory, and that day I won the battle.”

Someone gasped, “No way.” Though their expressions showed disbelief, their faces revealed an inner desire to hear about a miraculous destiny. Lars gladly fulfilled their expectations.

“So when I first saw Lady Bickman, I was shocked. She resembled that woman greatly.”

“How could that be!”

“That’s so amazing. Was it fate?”

“There must have been some connection from your ancestors. What a beautiful story.”

Women with girlishly excited faces chattered away. Glancing sideways, Lars saw that unfortunately, Lucienne was looking at him as if he were the world’s greatest con artist. With a composed smile, Lars whispered quietly.

“Even in an ugly era of war and violence, when death’s wings cover my entire being and days filled with corruption and despair may come.”

“……My purity and longing for you alone will remain with the ashes, living eternally on this earth.”

Lars was slightly surprised by the lips that calmly continued the poem after him. With a faint smile, Lucienne tilted her head primly while keeping her gaze fixed on him.

“I didn’t know you liked Arto too, Duke.”

“……I’m the one who’s surprised. Not many people would memorize Arto’s poems.”

That was sincere. Though he knew Lucienne liked books and was good at recitation, he had never seen her recite Arto’s poems before.

Hearing his words, Lucienne stretched her lips in a subtle smile. Soon, a clear voice flowed from between her lips.

“Through the chimney, through the cracks in doors, everywhere. Like smoke seeping in.

For it knows no barriers at all.

Ah, I will gladly fall into the arms of the cruel destroyer who will forever shake my very being.

Into those arms full of love, I will gladly throw my everything.”

This time Lars’s eyes widened. He seemed to vaguely recall a certain moment. Lucienne added calmly with sparkling eyes.

“I heard someone recite it and liked it so much that I memorized it.”

“Oh, come to think of it, Lady Bickman was known for her excellent poetry recitation and attended various gatherings, didn’t she?”

“Young people these days don’t know how to enjoy such refined hobbies, but you two really are a perfect match.”

Compliments poured out, riding the atmosphere. Public opinion about Lucienne would likely be divided between before and after this party.

Seeing Lucienne smiling brightly at him, Lars suddenly felt his heart being pressed and spoke in a low, deep voice.

“I’m feeling thirsty, so I’ll bring something to drink. Excuse me for a moment.”

After lightly touching Lucienne’s shoulder, he left the crowd, suddenly realizing how much heat had surrounded them. Being the center of attention and acting as a nobleman was far from his taste, making him feel as tired as if he were on a battlefield.

Wanting to catch some cool air, he took off his jacket and draped it over his arm.