“Please don’t be like that. Just one cup of tea! Okay?”

Lily clung to Breck’s arm. It was a desperate move. But then she realized something.

His arm felt like a log, no, even sturdier than a log. The dense, firm muscles under his thin shirt were palpable.

Lily unconsciously massaged his arm with her palm. It was amazing. She couldn’t believe such muscles existed. Just touching them was exhilarating.

Breck pushed her arm away and stepped back. Unfortunately, Breck’s keen sense of touch didn’t miss the passion in Lily’s palm.

He had lived almost his entire life as a predator. This was the first time he had been exposed to a predator’s gaze as prey. And now, his arm was grabbed.

Tension spread through his body. He quickly scanned his surroundings. Curious eyes were everywhere, wondering how this shabby man had received an invitation from a beauty and what his response would be.

Breck knew the quickest way to avoid people’s eyes. He shook off Lily’s hand and ran.

“Ah!”

The Dragon Slayer’s sprint was fast. Lily let out a startled cry, but Breck was already gone. She blushed, realizing what she had done.

**

Things were quiet for a while after that.

At least, it seemed quiet to Breck. Lily had banged her head against the wall a few times and considered throwing herself into the fireplace, but Breck didn’t know that.

He noticed that Lily’s gaze, which had been glued to him, was gone. It felt both comfortable and strange.

His shirt still got wet from sweat or water, and when he wore his brother-in-law’s old tunic, which his sister brought because she thought he shouldn’t buy work clothes without money, many eyes still followed him. That tunic was too tight.

But Breck lumped all that together as just other people’s gazes. And he was used to being watched. Except for Lily’s gaze.

Anyway, now that the mistress’s strange behavior had stopped, he could enjoy his leisure.

Autumn deepened, and the roasted sweet potatoes were delicious.

Breck showed off his knife skills for the first time in a while. Without a cutting board, he sliced the hard sweet potatoes into thin, even pieces with a small knife. Skewering and roasting them made the sweet potato party a hit. Nora brought out cheese, saying it was given by Lily, and roasting it inside the sweet potatoes made it a feast fit for a royal party.

In the pages of Verdain Weekly, Briston the Dragon Slayer was having an adventure in a forest of autumn leaves. To be precise, he was having a romantic event with the spirit sisters of the maple and ginkgo trees. Many readers salivated over the sentences implying he had a hot time with both sisters simultaneously. But Breck, knowing what real tree spirits were like, laughed until he rolled on the floor.

As every autumn, the solitary volume release of Briston the Dragon Slayer was announced in Verdain Weekly. Fans cheered. Especially at the news of an illustration book that took one step further into the risque.

It was a peaceful day.

“Come to think of it, Breck, do you know how to handle horses?”

Cohen asked.

“I saw you giving something to a horse the other day.”

“Oh, Benny. That guy has a peculiar taste; he likes pickled cucumbers. He once stole my sandwich, and he’s been following me ever since.”

“Pickled cucumbers? Can horses eat that?”

“Apparently.”

Breck just smiled and answered.

“Anyway, do you know how to handle a horse?”

Of course, he was skilled in equestrianism. He had even ridden dragons.

In his days of racing across the continent, his partner horse was a remarkable creature that wasn’t even scared of dragon fear. Before returning home, Breck had sent him back to his homeland. The proud horse, boasting of its Phantomsteed lineage, was probably now living as the king of wild horses on the vast northern plains, surrounded by numerous mares.

“I can manage to sit on one, at least.”

“Then what about a carriage?”

Breck just shrugged. Cohen took that as a sign that he could manage.

Cohen thought that was Breck’s strength. He didn’t have any specialized skills, but he could do a bit of everything. After running away and working various jobs, he seemed to have learned all sorts of tasks. He was perfect as a handyman for the mansion. Strong, too.

A handyman without skills would have a low salary, which would be a concern if he had a family to support. But since he was still single, it wasn’t an issue. He could learn from now on.

Breck had a good eye and decent dexterity. Since Cohen had no sons, he planned to teach Breck well and pass on the position of the gardener of Viscount Aiden’s estate to him.

For now, it was fortunate that Breck could drive a carriage.

“The coachman sprained his wrist today, but the mistress wants to go out.”

“Do I have to go to town with her?”

“Not to town, to the outskirts. She’s going on a picnic.”

“A picnic?”

“She goes out once every season.”

Come to think of it, Lily hadn’t left her room for the past few weeks. It was time for someone who felt stifled to attempt an outing.

Breck realized he knew what she had been doing. Not that it meant anything. He was just curious because her gaze was gone.

“It is the season to enjoy the autumn leaves.”

“Just take her there, hang around, and bring her back. She often does that in the garden… Come to think of it, she hasn’t been in the garden lately.”

“Understood.”

Surely, it wasn’t because of me? Breck thought.

There were several reasons why Lily had been staying in her room. Breck was one reason, but not the only one.

She was on a deadline.

“What man would want me? Even if I marry, I’ll just get acorns.”

Lily lamented as she refined an old pen drawing. She was revising illustrations for a previous work she had drawn for Verdain Weekly. Pulque, the editor, was planning to include her illustrations in a book release of Randolph’s previous work. He even had a plan to publish a book of just her illustrations.

Lily didn’t care about any of that.

‘He even ignored my straightforward approach.’

The pencil line of despair scratched through the background vines. When you don’t want to think about anything, simple tasks are the best.

To be honest, she had been quite confident this time. She perfectly scripted what to say in her mind. The woman in the mirror looked pretty even to Lily. It wasn’t an exaggerated appearance like the first time. It was a universally beautiful look that anyone would say, ‘Wow, she’s pretty.’

She hadn’t even suggested going to the mill this time. She had simply offered flowers and asked for a cup of tea.

‘Is it a problem that the woman is being proactive? Is it a problem that I asked him out first?’

Breck didn’t seem to have much dating experience. Still, did he really need to run away like that? If he didn’t like it, he could have just politely declined.

‘Why did he run away? Why? There was no need to run away.’

If he had chickened out because a beauty asked him out on a date, then fine. Would such a timid man even be able to perform well in bed?

No, Lily knew her own fault.

‘I shouldn’t have touched him.’

But she couldn’t help it. It was instinct. Not a woman’s instinct, but an artist’s instinct.

Experience has to be accumulated through all five senses. There’s a difference between looking at an anatomical drawing and observing a real human body. Touching it is even more different.

That’s nonsense.

Lily simply liked well-built muscles. She really wanted to touch them just once. Wasn’t it ideal? His muscles were ideally trained. How could a mere gardener’s assistant have such a body? It would be hard to find even in the Royal Knight Order.

Crack.

She banged her head on the desk. She should have held back for the greater good.

“Miss Lily, your outing preparations are complete.”

Anna opened the door and sighed.

“You’re doing this again. Miss Lily, did you forget you were going out today?”

“Outing? I have a deadline.”

“The deadline next week is more urgent. You said you couldn’t draw without inspiration from the maple tree spirits.”

“Yeah… I might as well just die. Make sure you burn what’s in the drawer yourself, Anna.”

“Don’t be like that. Just go out for a bit. To the maple forest.”

“Will going there give me any inspiration?”

The lack of inspiration wasn’t the problem. How could she do any creative work in this state?