Chapter 3 Part 4

Philip found the rumors absurd. The lord hadn’t acted particularly strange—Melissa was his future sister-in-law, after all.

And the man was always courteous to both men and women alike.

Boris would no doubt have snapped, “Are your eyes just for decoration?”

But Philip was sure he was right.

“Sorry, what did you say, Sir Philip?”

Melissa brushed her loose hair behind her ear and asked apologetically.

“Ah. I said we should head to the forest today.”

He grinned as he answered.

To be honest, it was impossible not to fall for her.

That lovely face, her gentle voice.

Even her slightly melancholic eyes had a way of curling into a smile.

He had once thought he liked bold, rough women like Boris,

but after a brush with death, he’d realized taste didn’t matter that much.

Anyway, Melissa was a noblewoman—having a lover wouldn’t be unusual.

And he was more than willing to fill that role.

“I’ll show you how to set a snare.”

“It’s a festival… Are there no rules for the hunt? If setting traps is allowed, then…”

“Well, the goal’s to kill an animal and bring it back. Who’s going to care how you do it?”

When Philip beat his chest as if to tell her not to worry, a low voice laced with laughter came from behind.

“I do.”

It was Alexander. He had dismounted and approached with long strides. Philip turned pale and blinked.

“…My lord? When did you…”

“Yes, I’m your lord. I arrived a little while ago.” He gave a short laugh and jerked his chin at the sky. Riders were landing on the fortress walls with their Halftia.

Philip realized it too late. The bell that had rung earlier, which he had thought premature, must have been the signal for the returning riders.

Ignoring the flustered Philip, Alexander strode right up to Melissa.

“It’s been a while, sister-in-law.”

As he passed Philip, he didn’t forget to pat him twice on the shoulder.

“No traps. It’s not honorable.”

His unkempt black hair had fallen across his forehead. The sight made him look like a bold hunter.

Melissa forgot even to greet him, though it had been nearly ten days since she last saw him. If she were to see him often, let it be often. If not, then not. But every time she saw him, it was like this. A long one-sided love seemed to control even her body.

‘It might be because of his clothes.’

Perhaps the reason she couldn’t think straight whenever she faced him was due to the southern-style clothing that exposed his chest or one arm. Seeing his broad chest or the clearly defined frame of his forearm, as if it were made of steel, now made her feel stifled.

“What is this bow?”

Before she could even return his greeting, he took the bow she was holding. Their fingers brushed—his thumb against her pinky. Her grip loosened automatically, and he casually took the bow.

“There are too many attachments. If you’re going to use a longbow, I’ll have a more flexible one made for you.”

“Ah, no. That’s not necessary…”

“Weren’t you going to catch at least a rabbit?”

He spoke like it was a joke, but there was a subtle seriousness in his expression.

As Melissa stood awkwardly, he pulled his massive warhorse closer by the reins. Stroking the horse’s nose, he jerked his chin toward it as if asking if she’d like to try.

“You just need to stroke it gently.”

Melissa didn’t particularly want to get any closer to him. But as someone who liked horses second only to birds, she found it hard to resist the chance to touch a warhorse. The black warhorse, which looked about one and a half times larger than a regular horse, was said to cost as much as a small fortress.

‘It’s nothing like the horse at the manor.’

She suddenly felt embarrassed, recalling the days she waited for his visits just to tend to the old horse with the stablemaster.

Carefully reaching out, she extended her palm first to let the horse sniff it.

“What’s his name?”

“Artrum.”

It meant “black.” The name was so straightforward and uninspired that Melissa let out a small laugh. Alexander, watching the corners of her lips curl, simply shrugged.

“Most black horses have similar names. Unusarum, Duaearum…”

“Don’t you feel sorry for them?”

“Not at all.”

Perhaps because the topic was horses, something she truly liked, Melissa found herself speaking more naturally. Alexander also relaxed with a quiet smile, and in that moment, neither of them realized how natural their conversation had become.

She softly called out, “Artrum, Artrum,” in a gentle tone. The horse’s expression eased, and its ears twitched a few times. Sensing the animal’s comfort with her voice, she cautiously reached out to stroke its cheek.

But just before her hand made contact, the horse snorted and tossed its head, revealing a bit of its temper.

“It’s okay.”

She began to pull her hand back—but suddenly, he was behind her, laying his hand over the back of hers. His warm breath tickled her ear.

“If it really disliked you, it would’ve backed away the moment you said its name.”

Her fingers, smaller by a beat than his, rested like petals between his. She tried to pull away, but the firm guiding pressure was quicker. The horse’s nose touched her palm.

“It likes you, sister-in-law.”

As their joined hands stroked the horse, the soft mane brushed her skin. The horse snorted gently. Leaving her slight flinch unnoticed, he pressed her hand more deeply into the contact.

“It’s just acting up—just be gentle.”

“……”

“Like touching a man’s cheek.”

Melissa’s face flushed red, the rush of blood making her feel dizzy. Meanwhile, the horse blinked contentedly, gladly offering its face for more.

“As expected.”

If not for the man behind her, she could have fully enjoyed this moment.

“Even beasts have a knack for recognizing beauty.”

Unable to endure his teasing tone, Melissa carefully withdrew her hand so the horse wouldn’t startle. She swiftly stepped out of his hold and took a few steps back, quickly saying,

“Lord, could you please return the bow? I need to keep practicing. There’s no need to replace it.”

Trying to regain her scattered composure, Melissa prepared to take her leave. She’d heard the festival wasn’t far off, and she needed to practice enough to at least be able to shoot. It would give her an excuse to be alone in the hunting grounds.

He slowly followed her with his eyes, then gave the bow in his hand a casual shake.

“Shouldn’t you learn to ride first before handling a bow?”

“…Sorry?”

“How else will you chase your prey?”

“…I’ll just walk…”

“You’ll at least have to enter the forest. Even the beaters and servants will be on horseback. Will you be running in there alone?”

The more he spoke, the redder her face grew. When she finally lifted her head from staring at the ground, he was smiling broadly.

For a moment, Melissa felt the urge to punch him square in the chest—and was shocked by the thought. That would only hurt her own hand. And who did she think she was…!

“But I don’t know how to ride.”

“Yes, I know.”

He moved quickly. Alexander gripped her waist with both hands.

Ah, I should’ve fed her more, he thought casually as he lifted her up.

“Ah—” Melissa flailed, falling into him. Her arms instinctively wrapped around his head, and her full chest pressed down against it. The warmth of his body and the scent of wildflowers filled the air between them.

Alexander’s mind flashed with the image of a girl smiling radiantly with her cheek against a bed of wild grass. It lasted only the blink of an eye, but somehow felt endlessly long. Between his closed eyelids, her laughter lingered—and the softness of her chest pressed against his jaw brought with it a strange calm.

His core tensed. Perhaps it was the fresh memory of spilled blood. He scoffed inwardly at himself—yet still found he wanted to delve deeper. Into the white skin beneath her clothes… into that smile that unraveled everything in him.

Yes, that smile.

The one that angered him, that captivated him. The unfamiliar stirring she caused wasn’t new. He had felt it before—when she cried atop Tiasat. That same unsettling tremor now returned.

“L-Lord…!”

“Ah.”

At her call, he blinked back to the present. Like waking from a dream. Expressionless again, Alexander said,

“Step into the stirrup.”

Melissa did so immediately and, almost without thinking, found herself seated on the saddle. Once on the horse, the height overwhelmed her, and she flinched in panic. Unable to hold the reins properly, she gripped the saddle horn, trembling.

He chuckled quietly.

She twitched and shuddered at the slightest touch—like a rabbit splashed with cold water. How would she survive the wedding night, he wondered.

“I-I’ve never ridden a horse before. Especially not one this big…!”

Her voice trailed off as Alexander sat behind her. Or rather, it was cut off the moment he took the reins.

The horse reared slightly, lifting its front legs—only a little off the ground, but it was enough to draw another scream from her.

With her feet caught in the stirrups and her waist twisted, she couldn’t turn to hold him—but it was enough to fall against his chest.

His arm not holding the reins circled her waist and pulled her tightly into his embrace.

“You ride well, Sister-in-law.”

“P-Please…”

“Spread your legs more. It’ll be easier that way.”

Melissa finally became aware of the glances from the servants and knights around her—furtive, disapproving, curious. Even Philip, lingering nearby, was clearly appalled. There was no mistaking it—she had given rise to a serious misunderstanding.

Yet Alexander made no move to let her go. Instead, the arm wrapped around her waist lifted, and his hand gently turned her face toward him by the cheek. The force was light, but the embarrassment was overwhelming all the same.

“You do seem to have a fever. But you don’t look sick.”

“…What?”

“You shouldn’t offer your cheek so freely. Not unless it’s to family.”

Melissa had no idea what he meant by that.

He let out a short laugh and turned the reins. The horse began to move.

The pace was moderate, but the problem was how her body swayed within his arms with each rise and fall. When her hips bounced slightly, he placed his free hand on her thigh, squeezing and releasing in rhythm with the horse—guiding her to follow its movement.

Melissa was dressed in fitted riding wear, and though she was fully covered, the tight fabric made the sensation of his grip all too vivid.

“You need to tense and release your abdomen with the movement,” he said.

It wasn’t until they reached the edge of the woods that he withdrew his hand.

“You’re doing well.”

Caught up in the rhythm of his guidance, Melissa could finally breathe again. She leaned forward against the saddle horn, trying to avoid any further contact—but it was no use. There wasn’t enough room to shift.

Only after they arrived in the forest was she finally able to dismount—barely, with his hands lifting her down by the waist.

She regretted deeply not having practiced riding instead of just tending the horses in the stable.

Nearly in tears, she muttered, “Couldn’t I have ridden separately…?”

“You’re a beginner. It would’ve been dangerous.”

Alexander calmly retrieved his bow and quiver from the saddle. The longbow, which had felt oversized in Melissa’s hands, seemed to suit him perfectly now. Melissa licked her lips, which had grown dry.

“People are going to get the wrong idea.”

“My intentions were pure. If they misunderstand, that’s their problem. Besides,” he added shamelessly, “can’t family do at least this much?”

His composure was so unwavering that she no longer saw the point in speaking to him directly. If she looked at him, she’d only get more entangled—so she simply walked ahead. Even so, the tangle of emotions inside her boiled like scalding water, making it hard to speak clearly.

“We’re not family yet. Not now… No, even if we were, family wouldn’t—”

“Shh.”

Suddenly, her words were cut off. He had come up behind her and covered her mouth with his hand. His large palm easily enveloped the lower half of her face.

Hhh—her soft gasp scattered against his skin. He leaned in to match her eye level, silently pointing toward something ahead.

Between the greenery, a deer was grazing.

“Will you be quiet?”

His voice was low, barely more than the movement of his tongue, but she understood.

Melissa nodded slowly. Just moments ago, she’d been flustered and on edge—but now, just from seeing a deer, her eyes lit up with wonder.

Alexander watched her shift in an instant. He’d thought the same thing when she saw the dragon: this woman could probably look at ants crawling over her feet and still find them charming.

He suddenly grew curious. If he were to raise his bow and shoot that deer right now, would she still say she loved him? Would she still love him after seeing him on the battlefield?

Would she still gaze at him with that trembling, wistful look?

He already knew the answer. Of course not. Affection was never that steadfast.

But even so, the urge to test it stirred in him.

“Stay still.”

At his whisper, Melissa gave another nod and froze like a statue.

It was her first time seeing a deer this close. With its round, gentle eyes and long neck—and no antlers—it was clearly a doe. She’d heard that the further north one went, the larger and more aggressive deer became, so this southern deer must be considered rather cute in comparison.

She’d rarely seen living animals outside of farm stock. Franz always released boars or wolves into hunting grounds with their leg tendons already cut. He’d force her to watch as they were strung up and gutted, fully aware of how much she hated it.

Now, she felt a strong urge to document this living creature—the black round nose, the short limbs, the small ears. She was observing it intently when a sudden whoosh sounded near her ear.

It was familiar. The sound Franz’s arrows always made when loosed.

No.

“No!”

The cry burst from Melissa before she could stop it. The deer bolted.

But unlike what she’d feared, it wasn’t an arrow—it was a small rock that struck a tree beside the deer.

Startled, Melissa looked at him. Alexander stood with his arms crossed, tilting his head.

“You weren’t going to kill it, were you? Since we need to move, I just sent it ahead.”

He’d thrown the stone to drive the deer away.

She’d braced herself for him to shoot it, remembering all too well how many kills he had made before. The tension melted slightly, but the way he continually toyed with her stirred a new kind of defiance.

Even toward Alexander…

She couldn’t stop herself. Lifting her chin, she spoke with forced bravado.

“You said, just one rabbit.”

“……”

“If I catch one, you’ll let me go. No matter what kind of power I may have.”

She already knew: if she was suspected of bearing the power of the Bergritz bloodline—if she truly intended to kill a dragon—there was no way they’d let her return easily.

Even knowing it was an impossible promise, Melissa couldn’t help but challenge him with foolish courage.

Alexander stared at her silently for a moment—then suddenly raised his bow.

As he drew the string, the muscles across his chest rippled, and the tendons in his neck tightened. She thought, just for a second, that he was aiming at her. But the trajectory of the arrow was directed toward the sky.

Whoosh—a sound similar to earlier, but sharper, more violent, sliced through the air.

The arrow had been shot skyward, but the speed with which it dropped made it seem like it had fallen.

And what fell next… was a crow, pierced through the eye.

“A rabbit will do,” he said.

She stood frozen, staring at the crow’s corpse, when his approaching footsteps caught her eye.

He bent down and lifted the bird by its neck. Blood streamed from the crow’s eye, trailing down Alexander’s hand.

“Or a bird, even. Anything is fine. As long as you catch it.”

He was a man who met her bravado with his own, without hesitation.

Alexander had changed his mind—he hadn’t killed the deer.

Every time she drew a line, and he crossed it, Melissa shed another layer and revealed a different version of herself.

In front of Philip, she wore nothing but a carefully crafted smile. In front of Alexander, her expressions changed uncontrollably.

Her feelings were so clear, he wondered what it would be like to crush them in his grip.

He smiled faintly.

“Want to try?”

“Gladly.”

She all but snatched the bow from his hand and strode forward.

He followed behind, laughing aloud.

***

Melissa never thought of herself as impulsive.

And yet—unable to even properly draw a bowstring—she couldn’t understand what possessed her to respond with that “gladly.”

It was just… watching him kept provoking her.

God, help me.

She groaned inwardly, trailing after him. She only knew how to track animals in theory—she had no real experience. So for now, there was nothing she could do but follow him.

Alexander first examined strands of fur caught in tall grass and burrows dug into the dirt. But then, as if changing his mind, he began to move along the river.

The path wasn’t difficult.

Melissa followed him diligently.

Only after they reached a ridgeline that was nearly flat like a plain did Alexander finally drop to one knee before a thick patch of brush.

He silently gestured for her to come closer.

She crouched beside him and followed his pointing finger—and couldn’t help but gasp.

“That’s… a half-dragon.”

From the red scales, it looked like a Halfhar, one of the half-dragons descended from Harpax, the fire dragon.

Dragons had no ears, so they wouldn’t hear their conversation—but that wasn’t the issue right now.

Something was wrong.

The Halfhar was missing a leg—and an eye.

“Sometimes, things like that are born,” Alexander said.

“They’re worthless. The bones and hide aren’t even usable, so we just let them loose like this.”

He slowly moved behind her, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and guided her hand holding the bow.

Then he placed an arrow into her other hand, nocked it to the string, and began drawing it back—slowly.

“Half-dragons are born incomplete. Pathetic.”

Like bastards, the kind the world whispered about with contempt.

“A Halfhar that can’t even fly is little more than filth. Disposing of them is a waste of effort. So we let them die slowly.”

He bared his teeth in a smirk.

“Not even worth a rabbit. At least you can eat that.”

With that low murmur, the bowstring drew taut.

Alexander had taken hold of both her hands, pulling the bow like he was manipulating a marionette.

Her entire body was bound within his grip.

“Will you grant it the mercy of death?”

The arrowhead was aimed precisely at the Halfhar.

Melissa held her breath.

The half-dragon spun in circles beneath the warm sunlight, letting out soft cries.

Gray smoke puffed weakly from its slightly open mouth, unable to ignite into flame.

The stubs of its wings were jagged, more than half torn away—likely chewed off by other beasts.

Maybe… maybe death really was mercy, just as he said.

If Melissa released the slightest bit of strength in her fingers,

the arrow would strike the creature right between the eyes—

at the inverse scale, the spot all dragons feared.

For dragons, it was under the chin.

But for half-dragons, it lay between the eyes—

right in the center of the forehead.

Melissa couldn’t release the arrow right away, so Alexander’s lips brushed against the edge of her ear and her hair.

“If you can’t even shoot that, how do you expect to catch a rabbit?”

His sharp nose seemed like it might pierce right into her skin.

Though his closeness made her throat tighten, she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the distant half-dragon.

Just as he said, the creature before her was a being born from scales—a lifeform too frail to even hold itself upright.

Maybe death truly would be a mercy.

Her grip on the bowstring loosened.

The arrow sliced through the air.