“I think I’m feeling better now. Shall we continue with the picnic?”

As Raymond had said, the coughing had stopped.

There was no need to stay this close any longer. They could simply return to where they’d been having the picnic. And yet, despite knowing this perfectly well.

‘Why is my heart racing like this?’

His considerate attitude, so unlike his usual self, stirred something within her—the warmth now visible in those eyes that once seemed endlessly cold.

She moistened her parched mouth with her tongue. Her lips, which had remained frozen as if speechless, finally managed to part.

“All right. It’s a chance to get closer to Dante.”

“…Yes.”

His reply came a little late, as if carrying words he hadn’t yet spoken. But Yerpi couldn’t grasp their hidden meaning. There was something she needed to say first.

“There’s a favor I’d like to ask. …Raymond.”

At the careful utterance of his name, Raymond’s eyes widened. She knew they could never be a loving married couple. But perhaps they could become friends built on trust.

Hadn’t he just said moments ago that calling each other by name would be better? Maybe that’s exactly what he meant.

Just as Yerpi began to hold a sliver of hope, he didn’t scold her for using his name, but simply asked.

“What is it?”

Hope returned as possibility. Still unaware of being held in his arms, Yerpi made her request.

“Please apologize to Dante first.”

Raymond fell silent for a moment, seemingly surprised by the request. Yerpi knew she had to persuade him.

“Dante wants an apology for a misunderstanding about an accident I didn’t cause. Beyond the matter of the nursemaid, the injustice of those events still lingers. Especially toward you.”

“…Was that so.”

He looked deep in thought. She worried briefly, but then he nodded quietly.

“I made it my goal to protect him, but I never considered the need to clear up misunderstandings.”

“Understanding Dante’s heart is also a form of protection. Adults have a duty to safeguard a child’s feelings.”

Raymond fell silent at her words. If that was protection, then he had never experienced it in his childhood. Yet, he didn’t feel the urge to reject her intention.

He listened quietly to her. Seeing this, Yerpi smiled brightly.

“How could I possibly have known His Grace had a peach allergy? Dante was the one who told me.”

As she spoke with a clear smile, the stalks of sunflowers surrounding the two swayed gently in the breeze.

Living things like flowers and plants. The wind and sunlight—real, yet unseen and untouchable.

All creatures of this world seemed to respond to Yerpi’s words, moving as if centered around her.

Was this the influence of the spice—the mate of dragon blood—on the estate? Or perhaps something else.

“Raymond?”

Raymond snapped back to reality, having been staring at her as if entranced. Worry flickered in Yerpi’s eyes as she looked at him.

“Yes. Let’s go back.”

Together, they pushed through the sunflower field. As it turned out, paths had been cleared through the tall-stalked plants, making it easy to walk.

It was much easier to leave than it had been to search for Raymond. And so, the two were able to return to Dante.

[Yerpi…!]

Dante, spotting them first, broke away from the maid and ran toward Yerpi.

The young dragon, about to leap into the Duchess’s arms, stopped short upon seeing Raymond. Yerpi laughed softly and lifted Dante into her arms.

“His Grace is unharmed. Apparently, it wasn’t serious to begin with.”

[I was going to say it wasn’t serious, but you left first. I was just… worried, maybe.]

Stammering, Dante buried his face into the crook of Yerpi’s arm. Yerpi struggled to suppress her smile.

‘He was quite worried, wasn’t he.’

Even though he knew the allergy wasn’t serious, he had insisted Yerpi go after Raymond—clearly, anxiety had taken root.

Despite his gruff exterior, the child’s concern for Raymond was touching.

“It’s all right. Lift your head. His Grace has something to say to you.”

[…To me?]

Dante lifted his head, eyes wide with surprise. He clearly hadn’t expected Raymond to have anything to say to him. Yet, wariness remained—his ear tips and neck fur stood on end.

They had always been uncle and nephew. Though distant, they were now the only blood relatives left.

Raymond had neglected the boy out of a sense of duty to protect him, while Dante had lived under the mistaken belief that Raymond disliked him.

“You were the one who told me I had a peach allergy.”

[Hmmph.]

Dante turned his head away sharply, as if asking if that was all he wanted. Without considering what might come next.

“Thank you.”

[!]

“And I’m sorry. I misunderstood you about something you didn’t do. I failed to apologize for that. I also apologize for neglecting you, trusting only the nursemaid’s words.”

The string of apologies shocked Dante deeply.

Through Yerpi, the boy had heard how hard Raymond had worked to ensure his safety.

Yet, he hadn’t truly believed those words were meant for him.

That disbelief stemmed from a deeply rooted conviction that Raymond must hate him.

But contrary to that belief, he had always wished Raymond didn’t hate him. After all, no matter what anyone said, Raymond was Dante’s closest blood relative.

[…Whether I accept it or not is up to me.]

“Do as you wish.”

Giving him time, as if waiting patiently, Raymond’s words made Dante blink rapidly. It was the first time the two had looked at each other so calmly.

“Shall we enjoy the sun a little longer? Perhaps over tea.”

At Yerpi’s gentle suggestion, the picnic resumed.

The cold atmosphere had vanished. This time, it was mostly Yerpi and Dante who carried the conversation, while Raymond remained the listener.

As Dante chattered about the day’s events, he occasionally glanced at Raymond, quickly looking away whenever their eyes met.

Still, the atmosphere was vastly different from before. Just that alone made today’s progress satisfying.

***

After the first picnic.

The young dragon and the two adults began meeting regularly, once or twice a week.

Today marked over a month and a half since that first picnic. After sharing a meal, Yerpi and Dante had come to Raymond’s private chamber.

Surprisingly, he enjoyed collecting things, and in his private room stood a stone table for a board game called Lukran.

On the navy-blue stone table lay intricately carved black and white pieces, sorted by type—resembling a game Yerpi was familiar with.

‘It’s similar to chess or go.’

According to Raymond, Lukran was much like a blend of the two games she knew.

He was teaching Dante how to play Lukran in his private room. Black moved first, white second. Beginners usually used the black horse pieces.

Raymond moved a white horse and pointed at the stone board.

“This is how it’s done.”

[…Hmph.]

Frowning, Dante glared at the board. Lukran was originally designed to train tactical thinking, so every move required caution.

Dante picked up a black horse piece shaped like a soldier and carefully placed it into one of the grooves on the board.

Raymond’s piece moved in response, and soon after, all the white pieces on the board were captured.

Dante’s mouth fell open at the sudden turn of events.

[No way!]

“You blocked well, though. For a first try, you held out quite a while.”

[…Really?]

“Yes. You have talent.”

At that single sentence, Dante, who had just been deeply disappointed, suddenly sparkled with renewed excitement. Yerpi watched the scene with warm satisfaction.

The boy was clearly overjoyed just to have someone play with him.

Two people who once refused to speak were now enjoying a game together. Truly, it was remarkable progress.

[Yerpi, I’m good at this game!]

“I heard. Dante is good at so many things.”

[Hehe…]

Dante shyly rubbed his cheek. It pleased her to see him discover his strengths one by one.

But there was one problem.

No sooner had Dante leaned into Yerpi for affection than he lifted his head, narrowed his eyes, and smirked at Raymond.

[Jealous?]

“What?”

Raymond’s normally expressionless face suddenly twisted.

The young dragon, delighted by the reaction, let out a soft chuckle and snuggled even deeper into Yerpi’s arms, as if declaring victory.

It was good that the two were growing closer. But still.

[Where are you two going? I’m coming too!] [If you’re going to bond, do it in front of me. You’re not leaving me behind, right?]

Dante kept causing awkward moments with such sudden remarks—there was never a dull moment.

Look. Even now.

[Who do you like more—me or Raymond?]

An embarrassingly direct question flew in, as expected.