After eating half a sandwich and finishing off a chocolate chip cookie, Rote, eyes shining with determination, kept watch over the trap—only to soon begin nodding off.

“Rote, if you’re sleepy, take a little nap. I’ll wake you when the pheasant comes.”

“…Really?”

The child, who had even devised a grand plan to catch a pheasant with nothing more than a basket the size of an adult’s palm, finally gave in and laid her head across Selaia’s lap.

“Hush, hush, my little one…”

The breeze lightly teasing her hair, the warm sunlight, and the gentle lullaby of someone she loved—falling asleep without worry seemed the most natural thing in the world.

Before long, she drifted into slumber, lips slightly parted, breathing softly through her nose. Selaia gazed down at her with eyes full of tenderness.

It was only a little while later that Laska returned, trudging along with a pheasant pierced through the neck by an arrow dangling from his hand.

“Is Lady Rote asleep?”

“Yes. It’s usually her nap time about now.”

At her reply, Laska nodded with a quiet “Ah.” The child’s small frame, resting with her head upon a lap pillow, seemed so tiny that he found himself speaking in a tone tinged with wonder.

“She carries herself with such composure, I often forget she’s still just a child.”

“Everyone says that.”

Selaia responded lightly, only to notice a moment later the bird clutched in his hand, her eyes widening in surprise.

“You caught a pheasant. It didn’t even seem to take that long.”

“Well… a meager catch, isn’t it?”

Though half in jest, the man who had boldly spoken of bears and such now looked a little sheepish, offering an awkward excuse.

“I did see a deer, actually.”

His eyes—clear and bright as a shallow sea of sapphire—shifted slowly to the side.

“But there was a baby deer with it, so I let it go.”

“You did well. And catching a pheasant is impressive enough. Rote really wanted to catch one herself.”

Selaia brushed back the strand of hair that had fallen across the child’s forehead as she spoke. Laska hesitated for a moment, then pulled the arrow from the pheasant’s body. Catching Selaia’s questioning gaze, he gave a playful wink.

“This is a secret.”

His narrow eyes, folding gently at the corners, held both a smile and mischief as he tucked the pheasant beneath the basket.

Selaia couldn’t help but let out a quiet, deflating laugh.

After that, the two fell into silence.

‘I think I’m a little sleepy too…’

The warmth of the breeze and the sunlight carried drowsiness even to grown adults. Selaia’s eyes were just about to close completely when—

“My lady.”

If not for his sudden words pulling her back, she might have drifted off entirely.

“May I ask… what kind of man your former husband was?”

“…”

At the question, Selaia blinked. The drowsiness that had been creeping over her vanished in an instant.

Laska, meanwhile, wore the same untroubled expression, as if he had no idea of the weight his words carried.

‘What an impossible man to read.’

She thought this as she looked at his face, shining with startling sincerity, devoid of malice. Perhaps it was because he was a mercenary, relatively unbound by the rigid class system, that he could be both respectful at times and disarmingly familiar at others.

It was something entirely different from the way Empress Dowager Leticia or Hendrick disregarded boundaries—it was an approach Selaia simply wasn’t used to.

“Well, it’s difficult to explain exactly. He’s no longer someone connected to me.”

She wasn’t particularly offended or angry. But for someone who was, after all, just an employee, such a question was clearly overstepping. She was about to deflect with gentle words when—

“Lady Rote said it herself. That her father hates her.”

“…!”

It was as though he knew exactly how to pry her mouth open. Beneath the tilt of his relaxed head, the line of his neck gleamed firm and smooth.

“She seemed to have accepted it as the truth.”

With calm composure, his soft lips spoke of the child’s despair.

He had undeniably crossed the line, and he was well aware of it. He also knew that, once she heard his final words, Selaia would no longer be able to overlook his actions.

His clear blue eyes were fixed squarely on hers.

“She said it’s because she was born after she killed her own mother.”

“…Rote said that?”

Selaia, struggling to contain her shock, barely managed to speak.

It must have been from the conversation they’d had the day Hendrick came. If the child had confided something like that, and if that was why Laska asked about Hendrick, then she couldn’t just ignore it.

“Yes, that’s why I thought that, if I didn’t properly understand the situation, I might end up hurting Lady Rote unintentionally. So I asked carefully.”

“Ah.”

With that final explanation, he had stepped entirely away from overstepping his bounds. He was simply a loyal retainer, seeking only to serve his employer’s family with devotion. Realizing this, Selaia blamed herself for misunderstanding him.

After sitting in silence for a long while, lost in thought, Selaia finally opened her mouth, her heart eased. She never noticed how keenly the man beside her was watching her every expression.

“My former husband… was a man who had to have everything his way.”

There was no need to add that this former husband was, in truth, the emperor of the empire. Selaia bit lightly at her lip before continuing.

“He had to possess whatever he desired. If something was ever taken from him, he flew into a rage.”

“I see.”

“Even if it was Death itself that took his lover from him.”

Laska’s face remained calm, betraying no reaction. That very composure soothed her heart in turn.

“He was so angry he couldn’t bear to look at Rote’s face. That’s why I came to raise her.”

Selaia explained in the plainest terms. She had no wish to stir pity or sympathy.

“When I first came to Cheringen with nothing but a newborn in my arms, this place was even more of a ruin than it is now.”

She could still recall it vividly. The castle’s massive doors had rotted off their hinges and not a single window remained intact. With nowhere suitable to sit, she had gathered some straw, placed a blanket over it and sat there feeding the infant some thin gruel.

“What will happen to us, my baby?”

Selaia patted the child’s back clumsily and whispered to herself. As though she understood, the baby smiled quietly, gave a tiny burp, then pursed her lips and rolled her eyes in embarrassment. This endearing sight made Selaia forget her worries for a while.

“Still, looking at her, I began to think… perhaps there was hope for us after all.”

“Everything will turn out well. We’ll overcome it somehow.”

Selaia had spoken with a smile on her lips. Laska quietly watched her, calm-faced, as she recalled the past.

“So then I said, let your name be Espera in the old imperial tongue—hope. Let it be Esperote. I placed all my hope on a child who knew nothing of the world.”

“…And it’s that hope that’s brought you this far.”

To those words, she neither agreed nor denied. She only looked at him with a quiet smile.

Her pale-gold hair scattered faintly in the wind. Watching her stand beneath the splintering sunlight, Laska swallowed against a sudden dryness in his throat and spoke.

“Not once… have you ever resented it?”

It seemed to be a question born of impulse. Selaia was not so dull that she couldn’t notice the flicker of unease in his eyes, betraying even his own surprise at what he had said.

Yet as though the words themselves had become a trigger, he pressed on.

“If Lady Rote hadn’t been there, your life might have turned out entirely different. Forgive me for saying so, but… taking responsibility for a child not of your blood must have been difficult.”

Selaia gazed at him silently.

She could not tell whether he had rejected the child or the unfamiliar burden of adulthood itself.

“Have you ever pinned all your hopes on someone, Laska?”

At those words, Laska fell silent. His silence was answer enough. And Selaia realized anew that his expressionless face leaned closer to something cool and austere than gentle.

“Mm…”

Just then, Rote gave a small, drowsy whimper. Selaia gently stroked her peach-like cheek, and the child’s expression softened once again.

As always—her beloved daughter.

“It isn’t about what can protect me. It’s about what I choose to protect while I live.”

To that, Laska said nothing. He only looked at her intently.

In that moment, he felt closer to her than he ever had before, as he smiled brightly. A strange sense of intimacy washed over her as Selaia slowly blinked.

“If I were the kind of person to abandon hope easily, I wouldn’t be alive today.”

Her answer was clear—it wasn’t for any other reason, but simply because she was that kind of person.

An answer deeply personal, yet entirely reasonable. One he could not press further.

“Rote seems far too grown-up for her age because she’s clever. Like you, Laska—she reasons that she herself might be a burden to me.”

Rote felt indebted to Selaia because she acted like an old soul and wished for someone to stand by her side. This sense of debt constantly pained part of Selaia’s heart.

However, she knew it was a problem that could not be solved in the short term.