Reading his gaze that demanded an explanation, Lucienne nodded and began her story.

“Zephyrus Tolly, daughter of Orka Tolly who founded the Tolly family, is separated from her parents at birth. Shortly after, her parents lose their lives to the knife of a vile traitor, and the butler who was taking care of her abandons her and runs away. After surviving on the streets, in the year she turns eight, she fatefully meets a shaman who visits the village. The shaman prophesies that Zephy will become a hero who saves the country. And then.”

Pretending to build suspense, Lucienne made a gesture of slowly opening her empty fist.

“He hands her a gift, saying it will be the sign in the future.”

“……Don’t tell me that gift is.”

Lucienne nodded and then burst into laughter. She got up from the bed and put on the robe hanging on the clothes rack. The transparent and beautiful fabric fluttered like butterfly wings, scattering light. While tying the waist string, Lucienne glanced at him and asked.

“What do you think about having a daughter who wants to be a hero?”

“Ha,” letting out a hollow laugh, Lars rested his chin crookedly.

“I think she takes after you completely.”

“What? Asti clearly takes after you. With that stubbornness and innate dignity. When you see her talking with Yanken, she’s your spitting image.”

“When I see her talking with Tom, she’s a little Lucienne.”

When he retorted, Lucienne raised one eyebrow and wrinkled her nose bridge. Finding it merely cute, Lars held back his laughter and stroked his chin.

“But why did you specifically hide it from me?”

“I think she was embarrassed.”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Listen, Your Grace.”

Lucienne pointed at him primly, raising one finger as if to emphasize her point.

“She started reading Tolly after hearing the heroic tales about Duke Diconmeyer recited by street poets. Poems about the most handsome man who pacified the civil war in Freemont and helped the king of Edmus work for peace across the continent.”

It felt like a significant part was Lucienne’s own embellishment. Lars tilted his head with a serious face.

“Well. The protagonist of the poem I heard was Lucienne Bickman. How that girl, who became a noble with her father’s death, raised the Bickman family. And how many brushes with death she survived, and eventually……”

Taking a short breath, Lars gazed quietly at Lucienne and added.

“Survived.”

Their gentle gazes collided, carrying the weight of times past. Soon, Lucienne’s lips formed a pleasing curve.

“Well, what people find most interesting is how I managed to catch you.”

“I hear it’s still fashionable among noble ladies to publicly propose to their fiancés before marriage.”

“That kind of courage is necessary to get what you want.”

Lars laughed at her proud words as she lifted her chin, and he patted the empty space before him. Lucienne, wearing an alluring smile, gladly jumped onto the bed.

As he stroked her hair while she sat on his thigh and tightly embraced his neck, Lars quietly exhaled. His gaze fell on the pile of letters on the desk visible over Lucienne’s shoulder.

“Duke Gerard is dead.”

At this sudden statement, Lucienne pushed away from his shoulder and separated herself.

“How……”

Looking puzzled, she noticed Lars’s gaze flying behind her and let out a hollow laugh as if she had guessed. With eyes that had instantly grown cold, she stared somewhere in the air and spoke briefly.

“A strange death, isn’t it?”

Yesterday’s letter contained news of Duke Micover Gerard’s death.

He had been severely ill last winter and had refrained from going out, mostly staying inside his mansion, but recently he had finally recovered his health and went hunting, which he enjoyed, only to meet with misfortune. His body, having fallen down a valley after perhaps a misstep, was found only after flowing far downstream along the river.

Lars knew why Lucienne was making that expression. He raised his hand to gently caress her slender chin and opened his mouth.

“Joyce Balshwin is there, isn’t she?”

Lucienne, with one corner of her mouth raised crookedly, nodded.

“She got engaged to Albert Gerard, the duke’s nephew, last year. Since the duke had no children, a significant portion of his inheritance will go to Albert.”

The shadow of the Balshwin family was enormous. Joyce had dark reddish skin and dark hair like her father, making her stand out wherever she went, and people’s resentment toward the former Count Balshwin remained abundant.

Seeming to read that atmosphere, she had relied on Duke Gerard’s goodwill and stayed with that family, but she did not show her face outside. Joyce’s name, who seemed to be living like she was dead with her siblings, was mentioned again last year when she announced her engagement to Albert Gerard.

When she first appeared in society with Albert, she was truly beautiful. Her calm, thoughtful eyes looked mysterious, but when she smiled, it was as if sunshine poured out.

It was a smile sufficient to melt people’s hearts and evoke goodwill, while simultaneously revealing a mature sensuality that didn’t match her age. That strange discrepancy actually made her appear even more attractive.

Nobles who had been acquainted with Ohr in the past saw the unfortunate Cecilie Ohr in that face and began to advocate for her. As she was invited to various parties, Joyce’s flawless beauty and elegant demeanor shone even brighter. Wherever she was, flowers of laughter bloomed and warm air flowed.

Lars began to particularly notice her existence after hearing rumors that she had quoted the Cayonbe epic at a party.

‘Resisting the absolute power of inevitable oblivion that no human can escape, every moment. And remembering where I came from every night. That will be the beginning of all great stories.’

It was certainly no coincidence that several elderly nobles who loved Cayonbe’s epic had been invited to that gathering. They were enthusiastic and unanimously praised Joyce’s cleverness. But Lars saw something else in those words.

Albert was a shy, innocent young man who always treated Joyce with an awkward attitude. Joyce, who had initially stood behind his large back as if hiding when she first appeared in society, soon began attending parties confidently on her own. Rumors were rampant that Albert would soon be abandoned and she would quickly find another lover.

It was precisely during such a time that the duke died. It couldn’t be considered simply an unfortunate accident.

“Should we consider this a declaration of war?”

When he abruptly spoke with narrowed brows, Lucienne raised her eyebrows. She extended her finger to rub Lars’s wrinkled forehead and whispered.

“It could also be Albert’s desperate act, afraid of losing Joyce.”

Quite an interesting conjecture. With a slight smile, Lars kissed her hand.

“We’ll know at the funeral.”

The two looked at each other. And almost simultaneously spoke.

“You take Albert.”

“You should meet Albert.”

For a moment, the air that had been only sweet became subtly rigid. Narrowing her eyes, Lucienne spoke first.

“I have a friendship with Joyce. It would be natural for me to approach her pretending to be glad to see her and ask how she’s been.”

“Despite having no interaction all this time?”

Moreover, it was already widely known that he had proposed to her when Beitram was alive. Joyce had been young then, but now she was old enough to understand everything. So the Cayonbe epic she had quoted was precisely aimed at Lucienne.

To see if she had that kind of personality, they needed to meet face to face. Of course, she would try to hide it skillfully, but she couldn’t be perfect.

“Albert won’t say a word in front of me. He’s the type to become intimidated. But with you, my lady, he’d spill his guts before finishing a glass of champagne.”

Lucienne rolled her eyes and slapped the back of his hand that was languidly caressing her fingers.

“Don’t use my favorite tone only at times like this.”

“I’m talking about efficiency. And don’t forget, Lucienne, you were the first to suggest Albert as the culprit.”

At his calm retort, she chewed her lips as if annoyed. When he gestured with his eyes as if asking “Well?”, Lucienne snorted with a small shrug of her shoulders.

“Fine. I can do it.”

Getting off the bed, she gathered her clothes and said.

“Get ready to get up now. Let’s go to the warehouse together.”

……Judging by that expression, she’ll sabotage my carriage wheels on the day of the funeral. Or feed laxatives to my horse.

Imagining the things Lucienne might do, he smiled slightly.

He couldn’t live with that shrewd lady if he used his head sluggishly. It was only natural for him to stay alert at every moment, not missing any passing expression or single word.

This might be the beginning of another great story, but it didn’t matter. Nothing that threatened Lucienne and the children would be allowed to breathe on this land.

As soon as they returned, he would need to find the messenger he had sent ahead to monitor Joyce’s movements. He had been receiving news three or four times a year since she had taken refuge with the Gerard family, but he had increased the frequency from the time her external activities became prominent. Several of the servants currently by her side were already his eyes and ears.

Understanding the nature of the opponent you’re facing is the most basic foundation of any battle.

Whatever plan she held, that plan would need to be perfect. Otherwise, she would see the end before it even began.

Looking with affectionate eyes at Lucienne approaching with his clothes, he slowly curled up the corners of his mouth.

Brilliant sunlight was pouring in through the window.

Praising You Who Survived · Side Story | fin.