Chapter 10.5

Late at night. As the brown horse quietly trotted into the mansion, Miland stroked its mane to signal silence.

“You’re back?”

As Miland dismounted, Firenze took his sword.

“No other pests around?”

“No, none. This time we found them all.”

“You said that last time, too.”

“…I apologize.”

Firenze kept a proper distance as he followed Miland through the entrance and up the stairs. Neither spoke until they reached the drawing room.

“Today, Lady Syria asked about you.”

“…About what?”

“She asked if you’d gone to inspect the territory, and what you talked about before leaving.”

“So what did you answer?”

“…Nothing. I know nothing, after all.”

“You’re curious too, aren’t you?”

“…I don’t understand why you’re so busy, or why you’re growing the knights’ power.”

“Do you remember what I told you when I brought you here?”

“I haven’t forgotten.”

“Your mission is to prioritize Syria’s safety.”

“I know.”

“No matter what the family’s knight order does, even if Syria marries, you’re only her knight. Don’t worry about the rest.”

“I’ll obey.”

Firenze knelt and renewed his knight’s oath.

* * *

From morning, the mansion was noisy. The footsteps of busy maids and attendants echoed down the halls, and voices from outside reached the upper floors.

“Haaam… I’m sleepy.”

Yawning, Syria let Melanie and the maids into her room, half-asleep.

“My Lady, you must prepare for the Founding Festival.”

The Imperial banquet marking the start of the festival lasted three days. Today was the first day.

All nobles in the capital, regardless of rank, had to be on the guest list. Even though Duke Dronia tried to keep Syria from entering the Imperial Palace, she couldn’t avoid the official event of the Founding Festival banquet.

“Is the Duke really letting me go?”

“Yes, My Lady. But you’re only to make a brief appearance.”

Not only Syria, but even the maids couldn’t understand why the Duke hated going to the Imperial Palace as if it were hell. Melanie looked disappointed, but only for a moment.

“I’ll make sure you stand out most at the banquet.”

Making her master beautiful was the greatest pride for a maid, and Melanie was already determined.

“…You don’t have to. Just do it simply and let’s go to the Illumine Street festival.”

Remembering how her previous makeover ended up like Marie Antoinette, Syria forced a smile and waved her hand.

‘Just go. Please, just go.’

But even mentioning the festival, Melanie was firm. Her sparkling eyes were already intimidating. With a sigh, Syria sat at the vanity and let herself be dressed.

After more than half a day’s work, she was dressed as splendidly as a princess from a small kingdom.

‘This is too much…’

Thankfully, her hair wasn’t styled into a strange bun like before, but even so, Syria looked very different in the mirror.

Her off-shoulder dress, a deep pink matching her eye color, revealed her shoulders, and her chest was accentuated enough to almost rival Prezia, with a curvy bust line. Below that, her waist was cinched tight like a doll. She looked like a Barbie doll.

“Wow… Is this really me?”

“How do you like it?”

Melanie’s eyes sparkled as she clasped her hands, seeking praise. Syria patted her head.

“Mm. Well, it is pretty.”

“You’ll be the most glamorous at the banquet.”

“Mm… You can go home now.”

“No way. I have to see you off.”

Melanie smiled, checking once more that the dress trailed properly and was full enough.

As soon as she left the room, Firenze took her hand.

“You look beautiful.”

“Mm… Thank you.”

Two days had passed since that day, yet it was still awkward for Syria to face Firenze. Above all, after hearing his confession, she hadn’t given any answer.

Syria tried hard to turn her head away, avoiding Firenze’s face, but somehow her eyes kept drifting back to his appearance, as if he had dressed up intentionally. He was accompanying her as a bodyguard knight, but Firenze, being a noble himself, was also officially attending.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

‘Ah, maybe I stared too much.’

Firenze was always hard to look away from, but since he’d dressed up for the formal event, he seemed to shine even while just standing still. His silvery-gray hair was neatly combed to one side, and his white ceremonial uniform bore the family insignia on the shoulder. Just at a glance, he exuded the aura of a handsome knight.

“It’s just… you look different today…”

“I needed to prepare appropriately since I’ll be by your side, My Lady.”

Without denying his effort to dress up, Firenze smiled brightly.

‘He’s handsome, and now even his clothes are perfect.’

The tight, pure white uniform suited him so well that Syria desperately wanted to see his back. Firenze’s sturdy lower body was something she never tired of admiring—his well-proportioned muscles seemed to invite touch, even for someone not inclined toward such things.

‘Resist. If I touch him here again…’

Syria recalled how she’d lost her composure and touched him before, almost unleashing something wild, and she tried to steady herself.

“Do you want to see?”

“…Huh? See what?”

As Syria turned her head and asked, Firenze smiled softly and turned his body.

“Gasp.”

She almost died from a racing heart. Firenze’s lower body was dangerously attractive. His pure white, untouched hips were revealed even without the pants clinging, and the rounded curves on both sides were more prominent than the chest she’d worked so hard to accentuate.

“A…mazing…”

“Excuse me? What did you say?”

Firenze turned back to face her.

“That’s dangerous, really dangerous… Don’t do that.”

Syria stammered, unable to lift her head.

‘Wait a minute. Does he know?’

Firenze’s blatant display of his hips seemed a bit suspicious.

“So… Since when did you know?”

“…Let’s just say since the day I held you, My Lady.”

Firenze immediately understood what Syria meant, and his lips curled slightly. Syria, overwhelmed with embarrassment, naturally lowered her head.

As they stepped out the entrance, the Duke was already waiting, fully prepared.

“Oh… my goodness…”

Syria’s heart skipped a beat for the second time at the Duke’s back. Her heart thumped so dangerously it felt like her organs had stopped moving.

Wearing a white ceremonial uniform similar to Firenze’s, the Duke’s back was as graceful as a bride in a wedding dress.

“So elegant… so beautiful…”

Syria muttered, licking her lips again. Unlike Firenze, she’d never touched the Duke’s apple-shaped hips, and the urge was almost unbearable.

‘Maybe I should just go crazy and touch it once?’

Her wild desire grew stronger, pushing aside all rational thought. Syria stretched her hand out, opening and closing her fingers in the air, trying her best to hold onto her sanity. An unspoken hunger gnawed at her.

‘God, why do you give me this kind of suffering?’

It felt like she was being tested by the divine. Her vision blurred, and she kept swallowing her saliva. The Duke, unaware that Syria was behind him, was deeply engaged in an important conversation with the Chief Attendant.

“Just once… just once…”

Finally, Syria, moving like a zombie, reached out her hand.

‘Well, life is nothing anyway. People come empty-handed and leave empty-handed.’

Her thoughts shifted toward rationalizing everything. ‘If I get caught, I can make an excuse.’ She was already thinking, ‘I’ll just play dumb.’

‘Just a little… just a little…’

Her outstretched fingertips were just about to touch the Duke’s apple-shaped hips.

Tap.

Suddenly, a hand shot out from the side and grabbed Syria’s hand like an eagle.

“…?”

Turning to see what happened, she found Firenze’s serious face. He leaned in close and whispered softly to Syria.

“The Duke is off limits.”

“…”

Then, pressing his lips right to her ear, he whispered again.

“Touch mine instead.”

With that, he placed her hand firmly on his own back.

Squish, squish.

Syria, her face burning red with embarrassment, could only feel the sensation of Firenze’s firm hips with her captured hand, right up until the carriage arrived at the entrance…