The wolf carrying the two of them ran effortlessly.

There was no need for both of them to ride one wolf, but Merche wanted Shakar, who had come to her belatedly, to guard Greta Martin’s body.

The dozens of assassins who had clung to Merche’s mansion did not linger long in a place where only one corpse, snakes, and wolves remained.

They quickly caught up with Merche, and the lead wolf Nike, who was easily ahead of their steps, ran like the wind.

The pursuit tapered off when they penetrated deep into the northern forest.

The northern forest of Benenum was as infamous for its treachery as the northern lake.

The assassins had to learn firsthand why gossips spread rumors that one would never leave alive if they entered carelessly.

The forest engulfed in darkness silently swallowed the intruders.

Whenever the hissing of snakes was heard, a cluster of clinging assassins would suddenly disappear.

“Something… feels disgusting.”

“What is it?”

“It’s not a person or an animal, but it seems like it’s wagging its tail because it likes you.”

Snapping off a branch trying to scratch his cheek, Rude jumped down to the ground.

In that brief moment, a snake approached menacingly, raising its head to target his exposed ankle.

“Indeed, it does. This place seems friendly to me.”

But the moment Merche set foot beside him, the snake lowered its head to the ground docilely. As if fawning, it circled around Merche’s feet.

Finding it both ridiculous and irritatingly itchy for some reason, Rude rubbed the sole of his shoe against the dirt for no reason.

The crackling leaves screamed loudly underneath.

“…The Forest of Gentle Rest. I’ve heard it’s called that.”

The face of Carla, who had scoffed that it was only gentle rest in name but actually meant to kill you, flashed before his eyes.

Carla had warned to avoid this northern forest along with the northern Mirror Lake at all costs.

−Vipers, poisonous mushrooms, toxic herbs. You can assume all sorts of poisonous things are there. It’s a place that could easily kill a person and have plenty left over. …But well, you might be fine.

Whether vipers, poisonous mushrooms, or toxic herbs. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t try to attack you, Carla had added casually. And those words became true.

The forest welcomes Merche. There is no sense of intention to harm or threaten her.

The forest only targeted the sinister intruders aiming for Merche.

Additionally, unfortunately, Rude who wasn’t particularly welcomed.

Just now, Rude, who had almost been bitten by a viper again, frowned deeply and shook his foot.

“Aren’t you cold?”

“Fortunately, I’m fine since I came out wearing a coat.”

“That may be, but it’s damn thin.”

A rough hand brushed off a few leaves that had landed on her shoulders. That touch followed up, tracing a line, and lightly brushed her flushed cheek.

“Merche.”

“…I’m listening.”

“Don’t think about it.”

Their eyes met. Eyes that seemed to have the purple amethyst he had once given her embedded in them. Merche gathered her thoughts and slowly asked.

“If I don’t continue thinking, we won’t be able to get through this situation.”

“Not that thought. You’re thinking of something else right now.”

“What thought?”

“Thoughts about that dead woman.”

“……”

The man who had hit the mark continued to pierce the center of the target once again.

“It’s not your fault she died. So stop making that face like you’re going to die from guilt.”

“…Come to think of it, it could be irritating to you. I hadn’t considered that.”

“What?”

“You might actually be pleased with Lady Martin’s death.”

“What are you talking about now? Why would I be pleased that woman died?”

“Well, Lady Martin was the one who…”

Diverted you, wasn’t she? Rude somehow understood Merche’s trailing words.

Ah, it was that woman. The one who might have been his enemy, who made a newborn baby into a lowly orphan instead of a noble.

Enemy…? Unusually lost in thought, Rude soon chuckled as if it was absurd.

“Well, there was a time I wanted to kill her.”

There was only one reason for his resentment. Making him live as an underground slave for far too long.

Thus preventing him from approaching Merche on equal footing even a moment sooner.

If he had been born a noble from the start, wouldn’t things have been much easier?

First of all, his cheap way of speaking that made him look like a rough commoner no matter how you looked at him would have long since become that expensive ‘eloquence’, and he wouldn’t have done foolish things struggling to keep Merche by his side.

Perhaps he could have maintained a relationship with Merche without any trouble while acquiring that ‘respectful attitude towards people’.

This woman who had dumped all these possibilities into a muddy cesspool, so yes. He admitted. Her death wasn’t entirely unwelcome.

“But that’s my business, and you don’t need to get involved. I’ll tell you again, the thought that you’re responsible for that woman’s death is garbage. So don’t stupidly dig yourself into a hole alone.”

His voice was so firm and solid as he said this that Merche unconsciously followed his words.

The guilt that kept rising was erased, and even the hazy distracting thoughts faded away.

Meanwhile, the forest they were walking through was becoming even more lush.

Somehow feeling the humidity rising, Rude absentmindedly fiddled with the edges of the gloves he was wearing, then stiffened his gaze slightly as he felt a gaze fixed on him.

To stubbornly wear gloves even at a time like this, what a crazy bastard.

It was understandable that Merche would find this behavior strange, given that he usually didn’t care about formalities at all.

Moreover, Merche had also gently urged him several times before that it was fine to take off his gloves.

What kind of pitiful excuse should he mutter this time? What ended Rude’s troublesome worries was an unexpected presence.

The wolf Nike’s discontented howl alerted them to the presence of an intruder.

The intruder caught by the keen wolf’s senses gradually revealed himself from the pitch-black darkness.

Surprisingly, the identity of the intruder was someone known not only to Merche but even to Rude.

A man with light blue hair fluttering, his clothes torn here and there as if he had struggled through the forest, stood glaring at them.

“Isn’t that the Fondo guy?”

Seeing his pale face and skinny, unsightly body, Rude agreed that it was indeed him and likewise tensed his eyes.

How dare you glare at us.

Ever since that day long ago when he had spun round and round holding Merche’s hand at a ball, that guy had been someone Rude wanted to kill.

To think the bastard he wanted to kill would appear on his own feet.

How unusually lucky? His hand already gripping the sword handle twitched in anticipation of the celebration soon to come.

“…Lady Merche.”

“Duke Diego. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

As soon as Diego Fondo called her name, Rude was about to rush out, spitting curses.

Merche stretched out her hand to gently restrain him.

“I know it’s rude, but given the situation, let me ask one thing. Are you related to the night visitors who came looking for me?”

There was no answer from Diego. But that silence was clearly an affirmation.

Merche tried to coolly assess the situation.

The sudden assassination attempt and Diego Fondo’s even more sudden appearance. This was too large-scale a plot to be Diego Fondo’s individual will alone.

In other words, it could only be seen as a family-level affair, something the Fondo family had initiated.

“What is the reason?”

The reason why Fondo wanted to kill Merche. Diego raised his head at the question that hid the subject.

Eyes that at a glance seemed similar to Merche’s, but in reality had a completely different color, shone turbidly with a mixture of impatience, anxiety, and fear.

−We must kill Merche Benenum. We must cut off that wench’s head and offer it.

Diego’s father, Werner Fondo, who had one day sworn allegiance to Prince Magnus without any prior notice, implored his son with bloodshot eyes.

That they must kill Merche Benenum. That otherwise, they could not erase the shadow cast over Fondo.

Even without hearing the details, the outline was vaguely drawn.

Prince Magnus, the contempt Fondo had received from him, and Werner Fondo kneeling before him.

“Your death is absolutely necessary for us.”

If they couldn’t kill Merche, Fondo would fall. Under this miserable but firm premise, Diego gritted his teeth.

“Is it by order of His Highness Magnus?”

“…I cannot answer.”

“If not, perhaps is it a sacrifice for Duke Fondo’s oath of loyalty?”

“……I cannot answer.”

“Either way, I hope it’s not something mixed with Duke Diego’s will or desire.”

It was too gentle and warm to be words given to someone who had appeared to kill her.

For a moment, the strength left the hand that had been clenched to forget the sense of guilt. Diego looked at Merche with blurry eyes.

“Why is that?”

“Because the character I’ve seen of you is not so evil. At least, that’s what I’d like to believe.”

“……No. Don’t believe that.”

Diego, clenching his teeth and hand again, declared.

“I am an evil person. So…, I will kill you here and protect my family.”

The moment the words ‘kill you’ left Diego’s mouth, Rude, who had been patiently guarding Merche’s side, strode forward.

“Kill? With what strength do you dare to even mention her?”

While Merche, who had received the death threat, was quite calm, Rude’s demeanor became fierce as if he himself had been threatened.

Taller than Diego, he looked down at him arrogantly.

His purple pupils, so dark they seemed dyed black, gleamed threateningly.

Seeing how intense and cruel the malice coiled and pooled in those eyes was, Diego Fondo could not help but tremble pathetically.

Barely mustering his remaining strength to stand on his two feet, Diego suddenly gnashed his teeth and spoke as if chewing his words.

“…You know nothing.”