“Well… yes, it’s true, I am from the Teian Kingdom.”

Laska revealed his identity with a troubled expression.

“I knew it.”

Teian was currently at war with Tropes. Upon hearing this, Haider’s gaze sharpened, making him appear even more menacing. He looked as though he might draw his sword at any moment.

And yet, even under that killing intent, Laska looked only at Selaia, not at Haider.

“But I belong to a mercenary company. We travel freely across nations.”

“A mercenary, you say?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

Laska nodded, his eyes never leaving Selaia.

‘He looks people straight in the eyes.’

Selaia thought this, her lashes fluttering lightly. Shaking off her awkwardness, she met his gaze. His eyes were as blue as the sea in sunlight.

“I’m with the ‘Spear of Ceylon.’”

“The Spear of Ceylon?”

Maximilian, the only one who recognized the name, asked in surprise. At once, every gaze turned toward him. Curious as ever, Vera tilted her head.

“What’s that, Lord Devonshire?”

“Heh, really now.”

With a wry laugh, Maximilian gave a brief explanation of the group.

“The Spear of Ceylon is an international mercenary company operating across the entire continent. They are renowned for the skill of their mercenaries, their loyalty, and their near-perfect success rate once they accept a commission.”

“For a mercenary, nationality matters less than a badge proving their status. You should know that. If you had checked my pack, you would already have seen it: a mercenary guild certificate.”

Having received Elaine’s report about the contents of Laska’s bag, Selaia fell silent.

Reading the mood, Laska continued cautiously.

“Compared to the famous names in our company, I’m just a faceless mercenary. Still, I have a fairly successful track record and have been entrusted with escort missions by people who believe in me. But then, during one such task, I was wounded in an unexpected attack.”

Laska scratched the back of his head and sighed faintly, his gaze dropping. The faint smile on his lips was tinged with self-mockery. His downcast expression was so pure and forlorn that it would have silenced most people and left them unable to ask any more questions.

“And how are we supposed to believe that? A guild badge could just as easily be forged.”

However, it would take more than such words to dissuade a man like Haider.

Laska lifted his head once more. His eyes did not meet Haider’s, but Selaia’s — in that instant, as though he had already discerned who held true authority here.

“Ah, well… I do often get accused of being an actor masquerading as a mercenary troupe member.”

He sighed, looking troubled, though his words brimmed with confidence in his own looks. Haider’s face darkened with irritation.

“That’s not what I—”

“Embarrassing as it is, my appearance is a little aristocratic… ha ha!”

Though it sounded brazen, he was not wrong. With his smooth, luminous skin; golden hair that seemed to be spun from melted sunlight; and features that were carved from stone, he exuded noble refinement.

“With a face this memorable, I can’t exactly get away with wrongdoing.”

‘People remember me too easily.’

Laska winked playfully. Even Haider, who had been sharp and prickly a moment ago, was rendered speechless.

He laughed heartily, admitting that while his good looks had brought him some advantages, they had also caused him a great deal of grief. However, his wound must have pulled, because he suddenly winced and grimaced faintly.

“Here, you should rest more. We’ve kept you talking far too long when you’re injured.”

Selaia soothed him, her gaze warm with compassion for a patient. Laska’s smile dimmed in response.

“I don’t think you’re a bad man, Sir Laska, but we still need some kind of verification. Would you mind if my aide, Elaine, confirmed the authenticity of your guild badge?”

Her request was fair and courteous. With an amiable smile that so often disarmed suspicion, Laska nodded without hesitation.

“Of course, my lady. By all means.”

Upon hearing his affirmative response, Selaia exhaled quietly and smiled softly. She did not notice Laska staring fixedly at her.

“Then we’ll leave you to rest. If you need anything, ring the bell here. Moving about may reopen your wound.”

Upon hearing Selaia’s words, the people filling the room began to file out. Rote hurried ahead with quick steps, and suddenly, Vera piped up from behind her.

“But my lady, why is your skirt so badly grass-stained? When I dressed you this morning you looked like a fairy, but now you’re more like a bandit. Did you roll in the lawn?”

“…Mm. Sorry for ruining the dress.”

“Oh, it’s all right. It was old anyway—I was thinking of throwing it out.”

“Mhm.”

In response to Rote’s brief reply, Vera tilted her head and studied the young woman’s face. Although she was usually quiet, there was something different about her now — she was hiding something.

‘Did she break a flowerpot?’

She would never know it was because Rote had spent the entire morning crawling through the grass, gathering leaves.

With suspicion lingering in her mind, Vera stepped out of the room, and Maximilian followed close behind.

“Lady Selaia.”

“Let’s speak outside, Lord Elden.”

“…Yes, understood.”

Haider’s eyes betrayed his displeasure, but in the end, he could only obey the silent look Selaia gave him.

“Please recover quickly, Sir Laska.”

Standing at the doorway, Selaia turned back to him. At her gentle words, Laska blinked once, then broke into a smile.

“Yes. Thank you, Lady Selaia.”

“…”

Selaia immediately noticed that he was addressing her differently. Their eyes met in the space between them.

She felt a strange sense of déjà vu.

‘Why? Why does this man feel…’

So familiar?

Swallowing the unanswered question, it was she who turned her gaze away first. Even as Selaia left the room and closed the door completely, his eyes never strayed from her.

⭕ ⭕ ⭕

According to Elaine’s verification, Laska’s guild certificate was indeed genuine.

“When I mentioned his name, everyone said the same: he’s reputable, clean, and without rumor.”

Elaine had even gone so far as to gather testimony from the nearby branch of the Spear of Ceylon, whose members were already familiar with ‘the mercenary with a face far too handsome for his station’. Thanks to her efforts, everyone except Haider had lowered their guard towards Laska.

The suspiciously handsome man, who claimed to be a mercenary, had already been staying in the castle for two weeks.

“My lady.”

At the voice calling her, Selaia turned. The castle’s guest, Laska, was smiling brightly at her.

“Good morning, Sir Laska. Do you need something?”

“Well, it’s just… I asked Lady Rote if there was anything I could do to help, and she said I might find something useful to do if I came this way.”

Laska scratched his cheek as he looked up at Selaia. She was standing on a chair, pulling down the heavy curtains that had kept them warm during the winter, so that she could wash them.

“It’s not right to give work to a guest. And besides, you’re still recovering.”

Selaia waved him off, but Laska was no less stubborn than she was.

“My wound was never that deep, and it’s nearly healed now. And strictly speaking, I’m not a guest. You and Lady Rote are the ones who saved my life.”

Laska lowered his brows, blinking his blue eyes with a pitiful expression.

“Would you help me so that I don’t become someone who doesn’t know how to repay a kindness?”

A quick-witted man—he already seemed to know that appealing to Selaia’s sympathy worked better than any charm.

“…Then could you at least help me take down the curtains?”

At last, Selaia accepted his offer.

“Of course, my lady.”

Laska beamed. Though she was the one receiving help, he looked even happier than the one giving it.

Since learning that she was not merely someone’s wife but the lord of this domain, he had addressed her as “my lady” with scrupulous respect.

‘I worried he might look down on me, left to manage a poor domain without a husband…’

Selaia blinked. At first, she had thought to pretend her husband was only temporarily absent from the territory. But that plan had collapsed immediately thanks to Rote’s overly forthright tongue.

“Father abandoned us.”

The silence that followed those words was dreadful. Elaine froze mid-spoonful of soup, her jaw hanging open. Vera dropped her beloved frying pan onto the floor. Even the sly Maximilian could only manage a dry, “Ha, ha”.