William cursed under his breath beside him. Hendrik looked around, but nobody else seemed willing to jump in after her.

He let out a short, incredulous laugh.

Right. This was exactly the kind of place it was. There was no doubt that it wasn’t his place to interfere. But there was no time to hesitate.

Muttering a curse under his breath, Hendrik shrugged off his coat.

“What are you doing? Don’t tell me you’re—you’re not seriously going to jump in, are you?”

“Get that boat out to the centre of the lake.”

“What? Get the boat to the centre of the lake? Is that the first thing you’re saying to me today?’

“…”

“Hey!”

Ignoring William’s protests, Hendrik dived straight into the lake.

He instinctively swore at how cold the water was — it was colder than he’d expected.

But he didn’t stop. He kept going.

As Hendrik submerged completely, William shook his head in disbelief and headed towards the nearest moored boat.

“Excuse me, I’m borrowing this for a bit.”

The startled ladies blushed and quickly stepped aside.

With William’s attendant rowing, the boat headed towards the centre of the lake.

Just as they neared the spot where Hendrik had disappeared, he suddenly burst through the surface, gasping for air.

He was dragging a woman up with him.

William managed to haul her aboard the boat.

“So much for keeping a low profile.”

William grumbled as he helped Hendrik back onto the boat, pulling him up with a scowl.

Only after Hendrik had climbed aboard did he finally exhale the breath he had been holding.

“Well, if this is going to be your debut, you might as well make it a grand one.”

Despite William’s irritated comment, Hendrik said nothing; he simply ran a hand through his wet hair.

He looked down at the unconscious woman in silence.

‘She was small.’

Drenched to the skin, her delicate shoulders lay completely bare. Without a moment’s hesitation, Hendrik pulled William’s jacket off—almost tearing it in the process—and wrapped it tightly around her.

“You could’ve just asked, Hendrik. I would have taken it off.”

‘Why does this make me so angry?’

As Hendrik gazed at the unfamiliar woman, a sudden, fleeting image of his mother — now barely a memory — flashed through his mind.

It wasn’t the kind of feeling one should have towards a complete stranger.

But her pale, lifeless form stirred something in him.

Her snow-white face, stark against her vivid red hair, looked as if all colour had drained away.

The sight evoked a strange, unshakable feeling.

Realising that something was wrong, Hendrik leaned down and pressed his ear to her lips.

“She’s not breathing.”

“What?”

“Open your eyes!”

He shook her gently, but her lips were turning an ominous shade of blue.

“Damn it, wake up!”

Panicking, he repeatedly slapped her cheeks.

After several desperate slaps, the woman suddenly convulsed.

She then coughed violently and spat out a gush of water before gasping for air.

She slowly opened her eyes. Within her thinly parted lids, a pair of rare ash-grey irises shimmered.

“Are you all right?”

For a moment, she met his gaze. Then, just like that, her eyes fluttered closed again.

“Hey!”

His heart skipped a beat at the sudden disappearance of her grey eyes.

“She’s passed out. Hurry, William — we can’t let her body temperature drop any further.”

The moment the boat touched land, Hendrik rose to his feet with the woman in his arms.

As people began to gather around them, looking confused, he didn’t hesitate.

Without a word, he walked straight towards the mansion.

As they approached the iron gates of the mansion, they swung open with a loud clang and a man ran out.

The tall, blonde man stopped abruptly when he saw Hendrik and the woman in his arms. With the blazing sunlight behind him providing a dramatic backdrop, he seemed perfectly at home on the grand Schutzman estate.

“Ah…”

Hendrik instantly realised that this man must be the estate’s head: Duke Schutzman.

What had they said about him back in Huntingford? The Empire’s golden mantis?

It was, of course, a malicious nickname coined by Huntingford’s iron manufacturers, who had lost their industrial dominance to the Empire’s steel sector. But, with his long limbs and neck, Hendrik thought the name suited the duke rather well.

The man stared intently at Hendrik, then raised one eyebrow subtly. The gesture reminded Hendrik of a recent melodrama he had seen, in which a dark-browed actor had done the same, driving the women in the audience wild with adoration.

The memory made Hendrik let out a quiet chuckle.

Mantis or melodramatic actor — there was no doubt that this handsome master of a grand mansion would fit perfectly into such a theatrical scene.

‘But… why?’

A flicker of confusion crossed Hendrik’s face.

Why had he come rushing out like that? Was hearing that he and William had arrived reason enough to run outside so quickly?

Then he realised that Robert’s gaze wasn’t on him at all. It was on the woman in his arms.

The uncertainty in Hendrik’s eyes shifted to curiosity, which now gleamed brightly.

Robert had come out after receiving word that a foreign prince and someone bearing the Ansonaisen name had entered his estate. He thought it was only proper to greet them at the front gate.

However, just as he reached the gates to welcome his guests, he received the news that Henrietta had fallen into the lake.

It was a deep lake. Deep enough to have claimed many lives before.

In that moment, he forgot all about Hendrik and William, and ran off in a panic.

It was then that he saw Hendrik.

Even in his frenzied state, Hendrik’s jet-black hair and striking blue eyes — a colour reserved for those of Ansonaisen descent — seized his attention.

What’s more, he was completely soaked.

The man, who was completely submerged, looked at Robert and smiled serenely.

It was as if he had everything under control. He did this while holding Robert’s partner in his arms.

For a brief moment, the thought flashed through Robert’s mind: had he just revealed a weakness to an enemy? He instinctively raised his chin a little higher.

Hendrik, who had paused momentarily, began walking steadily towards Robert. With each stride, water dripped from his clothes, leaving damp, muddy marks on Robert’s land as though branding it.

Watching the scene, Robert was overwhelmed by unfamiliar emotions. But he quickly pushed those thoughts away and stepped forward.

He glanced down. Henrietta’s face was completely drained of colour. Fighting the rising sense of urgency in his chest, Robert looked Hendrik directly in the eye.

“Prince Hendrik of Ansonaisen.”

He called out to him, but received no reply.

“I’ll be taking this woman with me.”

The man, who had been staring at him for a moment, slowly let the smile fall from his face.

“And who might you be to say that?”

Robert was reminded once again of the importance of bloodline.

He hadn’t quite noticed it when Hendrik was silent.

But the moment he spoke, everything about him summoned the image of the Emperor.

It wasn’t just the identical hair and eye colour.

It was also the arrogance in his tone and the way he looked down on others.

His inscrutable lips betrayed no emotion.

His pronounced cheekbones sharpened into a clean jawline.

If this were the wild, Robert wondered, what sort of beast would this man be?

He was the kind of man who inspired such absurd yet vivid impressions.

“I am the master of this estate.”

Robert declared, reaching out to take the woman as though staking his claim. But when Hendrik showed no intention of letting her go, a flicker of irritation crossed Robert’s face.

“Give her to me.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

Robert clenched his jaw.

Truthfully, he had never given much thought to the Emperor’s abandoned son until now.

Exiled to the Kingdom of Huntingford in his youth, the young prince had never seemed like a threat worth considering.

But unless the Empress had truly gone mad with grief over the lost crown prince. The idea of taking back the prince she had cast away was unthinkable.

“That woman is my employee.”

“Employee?”

“…”

“This woman is just the duke’s employee. Is that what you’re saying?”

Hendrik echoed Robert’s words quietly, looking down at the woman in his arms, showing no sign of handing her over.

“That’s right. So please, give her to me.”

“No, that only makes it harder to ignore. You see, I just witnessed the very people you invited trying to kill the woman you so casually refer to as just an employee…”

“…”

“And I happened to be the one who intervened and stopped them.”

“Hendrik.”

Just then, William, who had been following Hendrik, stepped up beside him. With a smile directed at Robert, he lightly patted Hendrik on the shoulder and spoke in a calm tone.

“What are you doing? Come now, hand the lady over. She fell into the water — she needs to see a doctor right away, doesn’t she?”

William’s words slipped through clenched teeth, barely restrained. Even while urging Hendrik, he offered Robert a polite greeting.

Thanks to his intervention, the sharp tension between the two men eased slightly.

Robert took the woman from Hendrik and briefly examined her pale face. Then he offered them both a small bow.

“The situation is a bit chaotic right now, so I’ll offer a proper greeting later.”

He gave several quiet instructions to the attendant beside him, then carried the completely soaked, limp woman into the mansion.

As he walked quickly, the jacket draped over her shoulders slipped and fell to the ground.

Hendrik, who had been silently watching Robert’s anxious retreat, bent down to pick up the jacket.

A flash of sunlight reflected off something mixed in with the garment, momentarily blinding him.

It was a woman’s bracelet, undoubtedly belonging to the woman who had just been in his arms.

He picked it up along with William’s coat.

It was an elegant piece, adorned with diamonds in a clean, understated design — clearly high quality.

Engraved on the inside was the name ‘Henriette’.

“In the Baron Cohen Empire’s accent, I suppose that would be pronounced Henrietta.”

“What?”

William asked, but Hendrik didn’t respond. He simply stared at the man as he disappeared with the woman in his arms.

“Hey, Crown Prince-to-be, when someone talks to you, you’re supposed to answer.”

It was an unbelievably clear day, so bright that it almost hurt your eyes.

In the garden just beyond the open doors, purple and yellow crocuses painted the perfect picture of early spring.

Through the soaked woman’s limp red hair, the warm spring sunlight shone in the shape of a cross.

After all, this was the beginning of spring in the Empire — the very season that Baron Cohen’s Empire had once proudly declared to be the season of the heavens.