But precisely because of that distinguished bloodline, there were those who might deliberately target her. Those who bore a grudge against the Senate. Or those who wished to pressure the Zinion family for political reasons.

If someone harbored a grievance against Kelena Zinion and Jeric Zinion for some reason, kidnapping and cruelly killing their cherished only daughter would be a very effective act of revenge.

Taniel was as valuable as a hostage as she was as a noble. If someone kidnapped her and demanded a ransom or other political concessions, no one could coldly turn a blind eye.

With all those possibilities in mind, Mirha paid as much attention to Taniel’s safety as to her enjoyment whenever they went out. Mirha was a capable teacher and a devoted guard at the same time.

‘In the old days, that was exactly why this child felt like a burden to me. I even disliked her. But now……’

When Kelena Zinion first approached her and asked her to take her daughter on as a trainee, Mirha refused outright.

Was she out of her mind? Did she think Mirha had lost her senses? She wanted to dump on her, of all people, already walking a precarious line for being lowborn, the most valuable child in the entire nation as an apprentice?

Taking on a master-apprentice bond in the Elapha Order was not simply a matter of conducting a few lessons.

A teacher bore full responsibility for an apprentice’s growth until the apprentice’s formal knighting, and the apprentice received all their instruction from the teacher.

Knights, who from the moment of their formal knighting abandoned their family name and began to be called by the name of Elapha, were each other’s closest family, and trusted companions who guarded each other’s backs on the battlefield.

To forge such a close bond with the daughter of a sacred noble, Mirha firmly declined.

She was afraid that if even the smallest scratch appeared on the child’s body due to some mistake in her teaching, she would lose her life to the Zinion family’s assassins that very day.

‘Though of course, even if assassins came, I wouldn’t have let them have their way.’

Mirha’s swordsmanship was, by her own objective assessment, genuinely excellent, so she could have easily knocked down a handful of assassins. But doing so would only have deepened the rift with the Zinion family.

For all those reasons, Mirha had no desire whatsoever to take six-year-old Taniel as an apprentice. But the highest elder’s “request” was closer to pressure, and Mirha accepted reluctantly.

‘And yet, now.’

Despite taking on that apprentice half by force, over the past five years of steadily teaching the child, Mirha learned genuine affection.

‘She’s dear to me.’

A guileless, innocent noble girl without a single crease of bitterness. A precious young lady who grew up receiving nothing but love and doting.

She could have used that environment as an excuse to become spoiled and ill-mannered, but Taniel did not.

The child, who inherited her mother’s cool rationality and her father’s hot-blooded passion in equal measure, knew how to think calmly and with composure even at a young age, and when she witnessed injustice, she could not hold back and would bristle with fiery indignation.

At the same time, the child was in many ways a far finer person than either of her parents. Unlike adults worn down by the absurdities of this world, the child still held onto an untainted sense of justice.

Mirha’s words, that Taniel would one day grow into a knight who surpassed her, were entirely sincere, without a trace of pretense.

Partly because the child was born with strong sacred power and an agile body, but above all because of a pure and upright nature not yet bent by the world.

‘I am too worn.’

At the relatively young age of thirty-three, Mirha was already too tired. To the point where, in order to follow her convictions and do good, she had to wring out every last drop of strength she had.

The young boy she barely managed to rescue from hell with that wrung-out strength was rolling his eyes around like a rabbit, apparently fascinated by the interior of the restaurant. Taking in that endearing sight, Mirha smiled softly to herself.

She took the children’s hands and moved forward. The three of them followed the server up to a private room on the second floor.

“Please call for me when you’re ready to order.”

“Yes, thank you.”

The server bowed and withdrew. Mirha and Rain sat side by side, and Taniel sat across from them. While Taniel browsed the menu with practiced ease, Mirha helped Rain choose his food.

“This is the meat noodle dish. You can choose between spicy and savory.”

“Hmm……”

“Or would you rather have something other than noodles? There’s also fried rice and dumplings.”

For Rain, who couldn’t read, Mirha went through the menu item by item and explained each one carefully. Rain listened to his teacher’s descriptions with a serious expression, then muttered with a tense face:

“I’d like to have the noodles with shrimp.”

“Oh? Then shall we go with that?”

“Yes, Teacher.”

Once Mirha and Taniel finished choosing as well, Mirha rang the bell to call the server. Mirha placed the order calmly, and Rain watched the whole process with wide-eyed wonder.

“Now we just wait and the food will come, Rain.”

“Yes, Teacher.”

The three of them chatted while waiting for the food.

To be precise, Taniel did most of the talking, Mirha occasionally chimed in with a question or a reply, and Rain listened with rapt attention, like a country child encountering the city’s novelties for the first time.

Then the food arrived, and Rain tasted, for the first time in his life, noodles made with springy strands in a rich seafood broth, topped with plump shrimp. It was a flavor he never dared imagine.

“How is it, Rain? Does it suit your taste?”

Mirha asked carefully. Taniel also watched Rain with wide, curious eyes, eager to hear his answer. Rain’s throat tightened for a moment.

“Yes, it suits my taste. It’s delicious, Teacher.”

He felt certain that no matter how many lavish feasts he grew accustomed to later in life, he would never forget the taste of the noodles he ate that day. No extravagant delicacy would ever surpass this.

“Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Afraid he might cry like a fool, Rain pressed hard against the corners of his eyes and held on. Mirha, as always, saw straight through the boy’s feelings. She answered gently.

“This was simply what you deserved all along.”

Rain didn’t agree with that. But he didn’t want to argue with his teacher, so he simply stayed quiet.

The first meal shared between the rescued boy and his two rescuers passed just like that.

* * *

They finished eating and stepped outside to find it darker than expected. Mirha looked up at the overcast sky with unease.

‘The goal was to get back to the palace while it was still bright.’

No matter how superior Santir’s public order was compared to the rest of the holy nation, it was relatively more dangerous after the sun went down.

If it were just herself, Mirha wouldn’t have worried. But the safety of the children in her care weighed on her.

‘Is a shower coming? There was no forecast for rain.’

If the sky stayed clear, they could have watched the sunset paint the horizon in beautiful shades of orange, but the way things looked now, they would be lucky not to get rained on, let alone see any evening glow. Mirha turned to the children.

“Taniel, Rain, let’s head back right now. It looks like rain is coming soon.”

“Yes, Teacher.”

“Yes, Teacher.”

Taniel was holding Rain’s hand again. Rain wore an expression like someone holding the hand of a princess from a fairy tale. On his small face, wonder and anxiety existed side by side.

Mirha stepped in behind the two children, wrapping around them protectively, and gave their shoulders a light push. She urged her apprentices forward.

“Let’s hurry.”

The three of them started walking. The noise around them was as loud as ever. Santir’s streets, crowded during the day, were just as lively at night.

Mirha walked briskly and kept a constant eye on her surroundings. She deliberately took a route far from certain areas, but she was uneasy about the possibility of running into the brazen touts of the illegal entertainment districts.

During the hours when the bright sun shone, Santir’s streets were beautiful. But once darkness fell and the light faded, the creatures of the shadows that lurked in the dark back alleys began to creep out onto the main roads one by one.

They slipped through the shadows with cunning, evading the eyes of the knightly order and the security forces patrolling the city, selling drugs, selling bodies, and in the end selling souls, pulling naive or greedy customers down into ruin alongside them.

Mirha thoroughly ignored the mouths of the back alleys in every direction that breathed out cold darkness, and walked with her eyes fixed straight ahead. Her priority was the children’s safety.

‘……Someone seems to be following us.’

A chill ran over her body. Who? What? Was it just her imagination?

‘Or are they simply watching?’

Mirha faltered. The two young children, who sensed nothing, noticed their teacher stiffen and looked back with puzzled expressions.

“Teacher? What’s wrong?”

Mirha didn’t answer Taniel’s question. Instead she slipped her hand into her jacket pocket and prepared to draw the emergency dagger she kept hidden there.

But before Mirha could properly close her fingers around the hilt, light footsteps approached, and someone called to her in a familiar voice.

“What a sight to run into here, Dame Mirha. What a pleasant coincidence.”