Chapter 1.2

The man was missing an arm. It was evident that his balance would be different, and wielding such a large and heavy sword would be far more difficult for him. Yet, he moved gracefully without the slightest falter. His unwavering gaze, focused solely on his target, and his calm demeanor, like a still lake, were remarkable. Even though a bear wasn’t the kind of beast one could face alone with just a sword, he acted as if it was the most natural thing in the world.  

The bear, having woken too early, met its end just as prematurely.  

The man turned to Greta.  

‘Ah!’  

Greta gasped inwardly.  

A one-armed swordsman. The Crown Prince’s confidant. A commoner who had risen to fame by performing extraordinary feats during the Great Demon War, saving the Crown Prince’s life multiple times. A national hero who had inherited the title of Duke Adantie—not for its wealth or power, but for the honor it symbolized. A tragic hero who had lost his most important arm as a swordsman in the final battle of the Great Demon War.  

He was Ragaen Sol Adantie.  

“Are you hurt anywhere?”  

From that moment, Greta’s world began to fill with thoughts of one man—Ragaen.  

Before the Duke of Adantie came to her rescue, exaggerated stories spread about how Greta had fearlessly stood her ground in a battle of wills with the bear and even fought back, gaining the upper hand. Despite not catching a single Ayane quail after encountering the bear, Greta somehow ended up placing second in the hunting tournament.  

When the Count of Lievo heard the news, he laughed heartily.  

“Hahaha! Lievo never shows its back to the enemy! I thought she was just a freeloader, but she’s truly my daughter after all!”  

Normally, Greta might have grumbled in response, but she didn’t care this time. No, she couldn’t think about anything else. Her mind was entirely consumed by the image of the man who had heroically swung his sword and saved her from the bear.  

***

It’s undeniable that, unless two people are already close and gradually grow fond of each other, first impressions—particularly physical appearance—play a significant role in love.  

But to be honest, the Duke of Adantie’s appearance wasn’t exactly Greta’s type. He was a large, imposing man whose sheer size made it difficult to notice at first that he was missing an arm. His intimidating aura made most people think he was frightening.  

Greta, on the other hand, had always believed that men should resemble flowers—gentle, kind, and lovely. This preference was largely influenced by her family’s tradition of strong, fiery women ruling the household, with their taste in men being remarkably consistent.  

Greta’s father, the Count, was a soft-spoken man who loved flowers and poetry. Whenever he and the Countess quarreled, he would always be the first to cry, leading to the Countess soothing him as they reconciled. This dynamic was so common that it became routine. The second daughter’s husband, who would soon become the next Count, was much the same, forming a close bond with his father-in-law over their shared gentle natures.  

In the few lackluster romances Greta had experienced, she hadn’t necessarily sought out men like her father or brother-in-law. Still, she believed that if she ever fell hopelessly in love with someone, it would undoubtedly be someone like her brother-in-law. Apologies to her father, but her brother-in-law Edward was truly dazzlingly handsome.  

But now, who was the man occupying her thoughts? A man as large and strong as the bear that had nearly eaten her—a man who couldn’t possibly resemble a flower in any way. The Empire’s greatest knight, the Duke of Adantie!  

‘Honestly, this isn’t love. It’s… yeah. It’s the suspension bridge effect. My heart was pounding from sheer terror, and I mistook it for some special feeling toward His Grace. That’s it. This is just a misunderstanding!’  

Since the day she encountered the bear, the image of the Duke of Adantie heroically appearing had been replaying endlessly in her mind. Each time, the boundless excitement it brought made her heart race painfully. To convince herself otherwise, Greta tried to believe it wasn’t love. She even attempted to brainwash herself into thinking that one couldn’t fall in love with someone they’d only met once.  

When all her efforts failed, Greta secretly sought out her father, Franz.  

“Father, could what I’m feeling really be love? Or is it just a misunderstanding?”  

A romantic at heart who loved stories of love, Franz listened intently to his youngest daughter’s concerns before opening his mouth to speak.  

“Greta, only you can know if what you’re feeling is love or not. You’re still young, so it’s natural to feel confused. But does it really matter whether it’s love or not? Isn’t what you want right now the most important thing?”  

Having experienced passionate love himself in his youth and now enjoying a steady, unwavering companionship with his wife, the Earl smiled gently.  

“I was young once too, and I remember falling in love for the first time. Like you, I didn’t know exactly what to call those feelings. I simply cherished them, and before I knew it, they had grown into love. The result of that love is you. So, Greta, instead of trying to name the mysterious sprout of emotion you’ve discovered, why not focus on whether you want to nurture it and see what it grows into—or whether you want to pluck it out early?”  

What Franz hoped was for Greta to reflect on her feelings and carefully decide to cherish the budding emotion. However, what he momentarily forgot was that Greta also had the fiery Lievo blood running through her veins. Patience was not a virtue of the Lievo family.  

The Lievo family didn’t wait for things to grow slowly. If they wanted something, they snatched it. Had Franz remembered how the Countess had practically kidnapped him into a whirlwind marriage under the guise of love and memories, he wouldn’t have had such expectations.  

***

Ragaen hated this weekly ordeal. He hated it so much that it made his skin crawl.  

“What about this lady, Duke? Hmm? Are you even looking, Duke? Hmm?”  

Shoved in front of him was a book filled with the faces and profiles of beautiful women. This wasn’t even one of the usual books circulating in high society—it was a special book created under the direct orders of the Crown Prince. The Crown Prince had even given it a name: ‘Monsieur Tout’s Secret Book.’  

‘Damn it, what the hell is Monsieur Tout supposed to mean?’  

If Ragaen could have torn that cursed book apart with his gaze, it would have already been shredded into powder. Ever since that book appeared in the world, Ragaen’s least favorite food had become croque monsieur.  

“Duke, how about this woman? She’s the second daughter of a Viscount family, so there’s no need for her to inherit the family. Even if your title is a single-rank title, there would be no concern! Don’t like her? Then, is there anyone else you’re interested in? Hm?”  

For the past few months, the Crown Prince had summoned Ragaen once a week, showing him a booklet compiled with personal details and portraits of beautiful noblewomen obtained through dark channels, urging him to pick someone he liked.  

Ragaen was nearing thirty, and although the age for marriage had been steadily rising, with even more people choosing to remain single, an unmarried nobleman at thirty was more than enough to earn the label of an old bachelor. Especially for Ragaen, being of commoner origin, it was even more crucial to establish a noble image. Moreover, the Crown Prince, who cherished Ragaen dearly, wished for him to quickly meet a suitable woman, have children, and live a harmonious life.  

The result of this well-meaning concern was what Ragaen abhorred the most—‘Monsieur Tout’s Time with the Crown Prince.’  

The Crown Prince seemed entirely oblivious to the fact that he was exerting an immeasurable amount of pressure on his beloved friend and subordinate.  

Overcome with a surge of irritation, Ragaen blurted out, 

“Your Highness, how many times must I tell you that I am not interested in women…!”  

“I’ve heard that so many times, so today, I prepared this.”  

A book radiating ominous energy was brought out.  

“After much deliberation with Terry, we prepared it even more discreetly.”  

The Crown Prince’s tone made the situation seem even more foreboding.  

“I went through great trouble to find this. Here, young noblemen who prefer men and have no need to inherit their families… No, Duke! Where are you going, Duke! I haven’t finished speaking yet! Ragaen Sol Adantie!”  

Ragaen, in an act of utter insolence, stood up and fled before the Crown Prince could finish his sentence. Watching his retreating back, the Crown Prince shouted in dismay, 

“No one will know; it’s fine! These days, it’s not even a flaw! I’m really not prejudiced! Love is just love!”  

Ragaen’s aide, Jespa, looked at Terry with pity. 

Did you really have to go that far? 

Terry bowed slightly toward Jespa with an apologetic expression. 

It’s really tough. Sigh. 

His face seemed to convey those words. Sometimes, there’s no need for words to communicate.