“How did Yezar manage to block Count Wyden’s movements so perfectly?”

“Did you really want to know?”

“Of course. I watched Count Wyden’s swordsmanship intently, but in the end, I saw Yezar not only block everything but also strike precisely at the weak point. It was breathtakingly impressive.”

“I feel rather embarrassed hearing you say that.”

When holding a sword, he was a fierce knight who never left an opening and ruthlessly targeted his opponent’s vulnerabilities—but in daily life, he was as soft and gentle as a marshmallow.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed. After clashing swords with Count Wyden, I realized something. I want to spend more time sparring with Yezar. I want to improve my swordsmanship. The longer I can hold my ground against him, the more enjoyable it will become compared to before.”

Predicting your opponent’s thoughts and exchanging sword strikes felt like a conversation. I loved that entire process—focusing on every breath, observing movements, studying their gaze, and reading their next move.

“I’ll do my utmost to help you until the day you can stand as my equal. After all, a conversation through words is different from one through clashing blades.”

“Yes, just wait. I’ll grow so much that you’ll find me even harder to handle than now.”

“I look forward to it, my lady.”

His words, utterly sincere without a trace of falsehood, made me happy like a child. He truly believed I could grow that far.

The night deepened, yet our conversation continued endlessly. It only ended when I blinked drowsily and suddenly collapsed into his arms. Even in my fading consciousness, I clearly felt his hand tucking the blanket around me and gently stroking my hair.

“Sleep well, Julietta.”

Smiling in my half-sleep, I murmured back—perhaps too faintly for him to hear. I wished him sweet dreams.

***

The message from Pelanne reached me quickly.

— I’m so sorry, my lady! Marchioness Stemun is connected to the anonymous painter Cortina, and she’s been purchasing the paintings through that connection. I didn’t realize I was gossiping until I’d already let it slip…

Now that I thought about it, I’d always wondered how Cortina’s paintings were circulated. So Sinah had been disguising herself as an agent, distributing the works this way. What an unexpected revelation. Still, I couldn’t fully forgive Pelanne for her loose tongue.

— Though I didn’t mention you being a co-owner! It’s strange—somehow the words just flow when I’m talking to Marchioness Stemun. Could she be using magic? Ahaha. Just joking, sorry. Please don’t glare at this letter so sternly.

After knowing me for several years, she must have anticipated my cold reaction. What exactly “flows” so easily? Still, perhaps I should meet Pelanne in person after all.

— As an apology, I’ll send you one of painter Cortina’s paintings! Please forgive me with this!

‘…Well, if she’s offering a painting, maybe I should at least see her once?’

I hadn’t given up collecting artworks yet, so I hesitated for a moment. Many of painter Cortina’s works were never publicly revealed, so the one Pelanne was offering was likely one of those unseen pieces.

“I’ll forgive you. Once I receive it, I’ll display it in the Ferhaem Dukedom.”

The artworks previously kept in the Orbetian estate had been handed over to Pelanne when I moved to the Ferhaem Dukedom, with instructions to store them in a well-preserved location.

Still, displaying one of Cortina’s paintings in the dukedom wouldn’t be a problem. Just one piece—later, even if I were no longer the Duchess of Ferhaem, taking it along wouldn’t be an issue.

“I’ll let this slide—this one time. Only this once.”

I picked up my quill and wrote back to her. Since Weaslet said he’d be free this week, I wanted to receive it before he arrived so I could show it to him.

There were many things I wanted to ask Weaslet. After finishing the letter, I stretched my arms wide.

‘It’s been a while since I’ll see Weaslet’s face.’

Back in the count’s estate, it was my nanny and Weaslet who spent the most time with me. Though we always bickered, I was genuinely happy to see him again.

“What does Weaslet like again? I should tell the head chef in advance. He’ll probably be on a date with my stepsister anyway. Will he just come for lunch and leave?”

Weaslet had always been hopelessly soft toward my stepsister. Once he confirmed I was doing well, he’d surely rush off to continue their date.

What was love, that it could so completely steal a person’s heart? Still, I envied them. Their love had never faded, continuing steadily from their childhood engagement.

One day, I happened to see my stepsister and Weaslet whispering about their future, laughing happily together. It was a lovely sight. I hadn’t known my stepsister—who always spoke so indifferently to Weaslet—could smile like that.

I’d assumed it was one-sided affection from Weaslet. How surprised I was to realize it was mutual.

“I don’t need it to be that intense, but I should at least show a peaceful, harmonious life with my husband. That way, my little brother can leave with peace of mind.”

He really was a hopeless softie. But knowing that I could smile so brightly now was thanks to Weaslet looking after me all along—this was why I couldn’t scold him any further.

***

“So my little brother will be visiting this week. I think he’ll just come for a simple lunch and leave.”

“I see. I’ll inform the head chef accordingly. Is there anything else I should prepare specifically?”

Yezar replied calmly as he parried my blade. Tadat. I quickly retreated, but his sword darted into my left field of vision.

Chang—! A sharp, grating sound rang out threateningly.

“Please show that our marital relationship is strong. My little brother knows we aren’t lovers and has been quite worried.”

“Does he know it’s a contract marriage?”

“No, but he assumes it’s a political marriage.”

Ugh. The force pushing against my blade was stronger than usual. My tightly tied hair swayed wildly. I paused briefly to catch my breath and read his next pattern.

But before I could react, his blade was at my throat.

“A political marriage, huh? Then we’ll need to appear even closer than usual.”

I acknowledged my defeat and released my sword.

“Yes. And once again, Yezar wins. I could’ve held on longer—what a pity.”

As he sheathed his sword, he gently fixed the loose strands of my hair.

“It seems you’re still struggling to keep up with my movements. But if we continue training, you’ll eventually catch up—not just keep pace, but instinctively know where my blade will strike, just as you did against Count Wyden.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Yes, my lady. I know this because I’ve trained knights before. Those who, like you, love the sword and charge forward without showing fatigue always grow quickly.”

If Yezar said it would happen, then it would. I could feel the sincerity in his voice.

“Yes, I’ll work hard. Ah, but I’d prefer not to spar much when Weaslet visits. He might be shocked. He’s quite overprotective.”

After all, we were currently sparring with real swords. If Weaslet saw us, he might get angry at Yezar, demanding to know what we were doing.

“Everyone would react that way upon seeing me point a sword at you. The knights have each said a word or two to me about it.”

“Goodness. Really?”

Perhaps because most knights treated me so courteously. It was hard to imagine them casually confronting Yezar like that.

“Yes. Though they only said so after seeing Julietta seriously engaged in training.”

“Hahaha. I remember that scene. Everyone had such shocked expressions, didn’t they? Clearly, there’s a difference between practicing with wooden swords and real ones.”

The sensation was completely different. The exhilaration flooded my entire body, making me more immersed than usual during sparring.

And the sharp arc drawn by a precise blade captivated my gaze every time, turning observation into a habit.

“Is the sword you’re currently using suitable for you?”

“Yes, it’s decent. It’s well-maintained, so there’s no discomfort in using it.”

But honestly, I did wish to have a sword perfectly suited to me—a slightly thinner one, longer, with a heavier, more solid feel when swung.

Since my build was rarely larger than my opponents, a relatively longer blade would make it easier to strike their weak points.

‘I really have developed desires, haven’t I? Back in the Orbetian estate, I merely swung swords for fun.’

Now, that wasn’t enough. Experiencing the beauty of swordsmanship firsthand had created a thirst I couldn’t satisfy. I wanted to see the distinct sword styles passed down in each noble house.

I wanted to fight Yezar more seriously, for longer. Even if I got injured during sparring, I wouldn’t mind.

“Oh, it’s cold.”

I was startled as something cold suddenly touched my cheek.

“It’s cool water. You looked hot. Shall we head inside now?”

I noticed the sweat dripping from his forehead. Ah, now that I thought about it, quite some time had passed.

“I did keep insisting on sparring. Let’s go. Both you and I are drenched in sweat.”

I briefly reflected on my own behavior—getting carried away every time, charging at him without regard for limits, simply because he humored me.

Still, just as our conversations before sleep had become a treasured part of my daily life, so too had these sparring moments with him.

I wanted to keep clashing swords with him, exchanging words through steel. Recalling Yezar’s critiques from today, I gulped down the cool water. I wished these peaceful moments could continue—yet suddenly, the invitation from the imperial palace came to mind.