Harold didn’t reply and turned to choose a wooden sword. This was the weakness I had caught in him. In the duchy, it was customary to cut off the wrist of anyone who stole from another.

Harold had arrived at the dining hall a bit late after training and saw a child stealing bread. The child was the son of a maid working in the dining hall, and being the kind-hearted man he was, he naturally forgave the boy.

He patted the child’s head, telling him not to do it again, and even gave him the bread that was meant to be his own portion. As he turned to leave, our eyes met.

Having witnessed this scene by chance, I desperately thought to seize it as an opportunity.

Of course, I had no intention whatsoever of actually reporting the boy’s wrongdoing and having his wrist cut off.

From the beginning, I hadn’t meant to suppress Ricardo’s artistic soul with such extreme methods.

Ricardo truly drew at any time. Of course, it wasn’t by his own will.

On the night Ricardo started drawing the labyrinth, I entered his room and stole all the tools he could use to draw.

However, the next day, I could only despair.

This art-crazed young artist had turned the entire wall into a canvas and drawn the labyrinth.

Without paint and brush, he had smeared ink with his fingers to create a drawing so beautiful it could steal one’s soul. But I had to erase this masterpiece with my own hands.

Fortunately, the ink drawing on the polished wooden wall came off when I scrubbed it with a soapy brush. Of course, it didn’t disappear with just one or two scrubs; it took many, truly vigorous efforts to remove it.

In the end, that day I removed the ink from his room as well.

Again the next day, the moment I rushed to fling open the door as soon as I woke up, I was left speechless.

Ricardo had wounded himself somewhere and used that blood to draw a picture.

The smell of blood that hit me as I opened the door made me nauseous, but that was all. Once again, it took only a moment for me to be captivated by the picture he had drawn.

So once more, I carefully erased that picture with a soapy brush. At this rate, I was about to memorize the map of the labyrinth.

And that day, I ended up making this terrible plan.

Steeling my heart that kept wanting to weaken, I set out to lure Ricardo.

“Rica, what are you doing?”

He was sitting on a bench in front of the east wing like a masterpiece, reading a book I had lent him. Thankfully, he wasn’t drawing.

“Don’t call me that.”

Despite being scolded every time, I stubbornly continued to call him Rica. It was my own pet name that I only used when we were alone. I felt I needed to do at least this much for my efforts to feel somewhat rewarded. A kind of personal psychological compensation, you could say?

“If you don’t have anything particular to do, how about learning some swordsmanship?”

His eyes narrowed at this sudden suggestion.

“What’s with the swordsmanship all of a sudden?”

“Well, everything has an abrupt beginning. Come on, let’s go. The weather today is perfect for swordsmanship.”

Ha ha ha, I laughed awkwardly and looked up at the sky, where dark clouds were gathering as if about to pour rain at any moment.

Ricardo clicked his tongue and frowned deeply. Yet he obediently followed as I led him out. Then he suddenly stopped.

“What’s wrong?”

Ricardo’s gaze was fixed on my hand holding his tightly.

“Does it bother you that I’m holding your hand? We’ve been doing it often lately.”

“…No, it’s fine.”

He seemed to hesitate for a moment, but soon shook his head. For someone who used to call me a slave and wouldn’t allow me to come close, this was quite generous.

“Thank you.”

Yes, if you disliked even holding hands when I’m going through all this trouble for you, you’d truly be conscience-less. But he still seemed displeased, turning his head away sharply when I smiled brightly.

As we appeared at the training ground, Harold approached us.

“Say hello, this is Sir Harold. He can be considered the best among the Pennel Count’s knights.”

I could sense Harold tensing slightly as he saw the fifteen-year-old Ricardo. It was understandable, as despite his small frame, Ricardo’s eyes were intense enough to overwhelm most adult men.

“Hello, I am Harold Hector.”

The people of this household thought of Ricardo as a very distant relative of the master. Ricardo just stared at the hand Harold extended for a handshake, showing no intention of letting go of my hand.

I twisted my arm slightly to pull it free, then introduced Harold to Ricardo once more.

“Go on, greet him. He’ll be your swordsmanship instructor from today. He’s my closest knight friend, so you can trust him.”

As soon as I finished speaking, Ricardo sharply turned his head to look at me. The desert summer sun, briefly peeking through the dark clouds, made his hair shimmer and shine. Along with that, it made his eyes appear even blacker.

Seeing his eyes flashing with displeasure, it seemed something had upset him. His mood was always as unpredictable as Lesothia’s rainy season.

“What’s wrong?”

“You’re… closest to him?”

“Huh? Uhm, yes. He’s a very splendid and excellent knight.”

“Splendid and excellent, you say?”

What’s this? His persistent questioning made me feel as if he was suspecting my plan. I hurriedly headed towards where the wooden swords were lined up. Ricardo quietly followed me.

“Pick out a wooden sword for you to use. You need to exercise, exercise. It’s not good for your health to draw pictures all day long.”

“I haven’t been drawing lately.”

No, you’ve been drawing non-stop lately. You’ve been drawing like a madman!

“Rica. Let me tell you how important it is to learn swordsmanship…”

“I told you not to call me that.”

Ricardo never failed to rebuke me for using the nickname I had made up on my own. Still, he examined the wooden swords laid out on the training ground. Then suddenly, he softly called my name.

“Lienne.”

I closed my eyes tightly at the voice that penetrated my ears like a spring breeze. Every time I heard it, it felt like a large piece of my heart was being cut away.

“You removed all the art supplies from my room, didn’t you?”

The sudden question left me speechless, but I didn’t want to lie to Ricardo.

“Yes, but that was…”

“It’s okay.”

“Huh?”

“I know you did it for my sake.”

“…”

“So I’ll do as you say. Swordsmanship, or whatever.”

“What?”

“The weather is indeed perfect for swordsmanship, and I… trust you.”

Having found a sword to his liking, he picked one up and swung it in the air. Even though he was just lightly gripping and waving it, it immediately captured the attention of anyone watching.

If it were the usual me, I would have enthusiastically applauded Ricardo, saying how truly cool he was. But I was so absorbed in pondering the meaning of what he had just said that I could only stare at him with a blank expression.

He trusts me…?

Even though we had often slept embracing each other’s warmth on unbearably cold nights, even though I had countless times set aside snacks I had been saving just for him.

I never thought I’d hear him say he trusted me…

It was only when Harold nudged my foot, which had been standing still in a daze for a while, that I finally came to my senses.

This was not the time to be like this. I’m sorry to you who trusts me, but it was time to betray Ricardo’s trust.

“Have you ever held a sword before?”

Somehow, Harold’s voice seemed to have become quite solemn.

“No.”

“Ahem, is that so?”

“Yes, because I never felt the need.”

“Every man in the duchy should learn swordsmanship.”

“Why?”

“Pardon? Well, that’s because learning swordsmanship… um… helps build physical strength.”

At Harold’s words, Ricardo smirked and held the sword upright, pointing it forward. But even to me, who knew nothing about swordsmanship, that stance looked quite convincing.

Harold, also sensing something unusual, leaned forward to observe Ricardo’s movements more closely. But at that moment, Ricardo, adjusting his grip on the sword, initiated the attack first.

“Aaargh!”

Caught off guard by the sudden strike, Harold cried out ungracefully and stumbled back three steps. Even though the Pennel Count’s knights weren’t known for their exceptional skills, this seemed an unbecoming reaction against a 15-year-old boy.

As the attacks continued relentlessly, Harold couldn’t regain his composure. I gritted my teeth and urged him with my eyes to quickly execute the instructions I had given earlier.

After a moment of indecision, Harold steeled himself and aimed only for Ricardo’s wrist.

Although the child was displaying remarkable swordsmanship, he couldn’t overcome a knight who trained daily and was now giving his all.

As Harold launched indiscriminate attacks, Ricardo’s footwork faltered, and Harold seized that opportunity to strike the boy’s right wrist as he raised his hand to block.

‘Success!’

As Ricardo grimaced and clutched his wrist, Harold, looking even more pained, threw down his sword and rushed over.

Meanwhile, I quickly suppressed a triumphant smile before Ricardo could notice.

The boy who had just said he trusted me now glared at me with eyes full of betrayal. But this was an unavoidable choice.

“Are you alright?”

I asked, barely managing to pull down the corners of my mouth in a show of concern. Ricardo smiled brightly as if he had never been angry. This smart child must have realized that I had instigated this and Harold had carried it out.

With a brazen face, I approached the boy who had fallen to the ground and extended my hand. But he didn’t take my hand, instead standing up on his own and walking towards the sword that had fallen to the ground.

Then he picked up the sword with his uninjured left hand. Somehow, that movement seemed too natural. The sun shining behind him transformed into Ricardo’s halo.

“What are you… doing now?”

“The sword training isn’t over yet, is it?”