“Whether you’re disciplining your son or not is of little interest to me, but why would you oppose the Empress who tried to stop you?”

Henri clenched his fist tightly as he stepped between Ermedillin and Count Heidern.

As if he was about to strike Count Heidern at any moment.

‘So he does take his wife’s side.’

Even if there was no affection, seeing Henri side with her made Ermedillin feel supported.

“I was rash. I had no intention of causing harm to Her Majesty.”

Count Heidern bowed deeply again, apologizing.

Knowing that he must calm Henri to safely leave the palace.

“Leave now. You’ll have to report the details later.”

After Count Heidern retreated upon Henri’s gesture, Henri turned around and scrutinized Ermedillin with a concerned gaze.

“Are you hurt?”

“No. The Count did not intend to attack me.”

Henri sneakily glanced at Pellio, who was still bleeding from the mouth.

“Why did you interfere with the Count’s and the young prince’s matter?”

“It’s because it stemmed from a misunderstanding related to me…”

“What misunderstanding?”

“A while ago, I borrowed a handkerchief from the young prince and forgot to return it. It seems the handkerchief was quite valuable to the Count.”

“A handkerchief?”

For such a trivial matter to result in the Count raising his hand in front of the Empress, Henri let out a sarcastic laugh.

“What’s the big deal about a handkerchief…”

Henri clicked his tongue as he looked at the white handkerchief in Ermedillin’s hand.

“From now on, don’t interfere in the Count’s matters. If you get hurt, it will be a serious issue.”

“It’s not about Count Heidern’s matters. It’s about the young prince getting beaten by his father for lending me a handkerchief. I know very well what it feels like to be abused by a relative.”

Still standing in front of Pellio and taking his side, Ermedillin was not pleasing to Henri’s eyes.
When on earth did the two of them get so close to make such a fuss?

But Ermedillin’s words couldn’t be questioned just because they made him uncomfortable.

What could be said against someone who had helped another victim of domestic violence?

Henri turned his body without responding to Ermedillin and headed toward his office.

There were mountains of tasks to handle, but the scene he had just witnessed would not leave Henri’s mind.

Ermedillin had boldly blocked the Count’s way without an ounce of hesitation, and Pellio was staring at her as if she were a savior.

‘What’s going on? Have the two of them developed some sort of relationship? No, that’s impossible. The Baptistian and Franshuar houses have such a deeply tangled history of bad blood. If Pellio were in his right mind, it couldn’t happen.’

‘Why did the Empress block his path? Is she trying to completely win Pellio over to her side? Did she change her target because I didn’t fall for it?’

‘Even if they’ve been dating, there was never anything serious. She would just milk him for money and dump him. She never seemed to care about what happened to anyone.’

An indescribable sense of discomfort welled up from deep within.

When Henri returned to his office, heavy with a cloud of negativity, he was met with unexpected news.

“My lord, are you all right?”

As soon as Henri left, Ermedillin turned her head to check on Pellio’s condition.

How hard the Count had slapped his son was evident; one side of his face was unrecognizably swollen.

“Ugh, how could he be all right? Look at that swollen face. Call for Priestess Louise right away!”

At Ermedillin’s command, Mago started running towards the priestess’s chamber.

“Ah, this really upsets me. What father would beat his son like this… Ah, my father used to hit me a lot too.”

Ermedillin felt deeply upset looking at Pellio’s battered face.

Regret filled her for not being able to give the Count of Baptistian a solid kick for ruining such a handsome face.

As Ermedillin hesitated to even touch him, Pellio chuckled.

It was a strange laugh that alternated between a smile and a wince from the pain.

“My lord, are you laughing right now?”

“Yes.”

“You find this situation amusing?”

“Yes, I do.”

Pellio responded with a muffled but firm tone due to his swollen cheek muscles.

“Surely you didn’t get a concussion from that slap. How many fingers am I holding up?”

Ermedillin wiggled her index and middle fingers in front of Pellio to check his condition.

“I’m not crazy.”

“How many fingers do you see?”

“Two.”

“Ah? You seem fine? Why are you still laughing then?”

Genuinely worried for Pellio, Ermedillin puffed her cheeks and looked up at him with a concerned gaze.

‘Cute.’

Just a moment ago, she had seemed like a formidable savior, but now she was showing this adorable side.

The sight made Pellio burst into an even bigger laugh.

“Heh, hehehe, ah, ow, hehehe.”

But to the clueless Ermedillin, Pellio’s alternating between laughing and wincing in pain was utterly baffling.

‘What’s so funny? What am I missing?’

The vicious cycle of Pellio laughing at Ermedillin’s increasingly serious face went on for a few minutes.

And then Louise arrived in the garden.

“Ah! Pellio! What happened?”