Sion raised his head like a lion upon hearing the footsteps.

So Ibi’s heart sank without her realizing it.

Sion was sitting in a chair placed in the middle of the tent, using its original owner as a footrest.

To have his feet on a fallen person was quite an outrage, but somehow Sion Laurel looked all too fitting in that pose. As if he was born for it.

With such a fierce appearance and sharply raised eyes, Ibi couldn’t help but gasp in surprise when their eyes met. Probably anyone else would have reacted the same way.

“What brings you here?”

Meanwhile, Sion, who had reflexively sharpened his gaze, softened his eyes upon seeing Ibi.

At that puzzled voice, Ibi, who had unknowingly frozen, finally exhaled quietly.

Due to her various entanglements with the count, Ibi had nearly forgotten what kind of person he was.

No, in fact, she had never even fully grasped it. About the reality of him single-handedly averting disaster.

But seeing Sion Laurel who had subdued an army like this, it suddenly hit her what kind of person he was.

Though quite surprised by this, Ibi didn’t show it and replied.

“Lady Marso said there was big trouble, so I came to see.”

Ibi said this while glancing at his footrest.

So Sion, pushing away his footrest, the unconscious investigation team leader, with his foot, said.

“As you can see, it’s nothing much.”

“It looks like quite something to me… How will you return home after causing all this?”

When Ibi spoke as if concerned, Sion made an expression that really didn’t suit him. Then he answered with a rather carefree face.

“It’s fine. I’m planning to move tonight.”

“Move?”

“I don’t like the new landlord.”

Sion was nonchalant to the point of mischief as he said this.

It seemed he had already finished wrapping things up. Both his life in this village and Ibi’s proposal.

Though firmly rejected, Ibi wasn’t disappointed. In fact, she had expected him to react this way.

From the start, she didn’t expect this arrogant and ill-mannered count to gently take her hand.

With Bayen’s army interfering and causing trouble on top of everything, it seemed he had decided to leave.

Ibi thought it wasn’t surprising, but she spoke as if greatly shocked.

“So you’re saying you’ll just up and leave in the middle of the night?”

Sion seemed satisfied with Ibi’s reaction.

So Ibi furrowed her brow and added in an even more troubled voice.

“I can’t believe it. I didn’t know you were such an irresponsible person, Count.”

Ibi’s blatant criticism shattered his satisfaction.

Sion’s eyes narrowed at the unexpected words, but Ibi continued even more dramatically, paying no heed.

“If you leave like this, everyone will think something terrible happened to you. Do you really think it’s okay to leave like this? You haven’t even considered the pain it will cause the children… And what about Lady Marso who ran around in the middle of the night? Everyone’s hearts will be blackened with worry, cursing the world that took their teacher away. Oh, what to do…”

Ibi continued lamenting as if facing the most terrible tragedy in the world, wondering how he could make such a cruel decision.

So Sion muttered, unable to bear listening any longer.

“Is that something the one doing the threatening should say?”

“Threatening?”

But Ibi retorted with wide eyes. Then she mumbled with a face like she was ignoring a fool.

“I thought you’d finally understand what a real threat is…”

At that small voice, Sion unconsciously felt a surge of emotion. It was because he was reminded of the real threat he had experienced from Ibi.

Regardless, Ibi continued speaking clearly.

“What I did this morning wasn’t a threat, but a promise. A promise to protect the things precious to you, Count.”

Ibi spoke as if teaching a child, step by step, and Sion frowned as if the words and overall attitude were uncomfortable.

So Ibi laughed inwardly.

In perfect understanding, Ibi was thinking something similar to Dies.

That Sion Laurel’s temperament closely resembled the nasty wild horses of the western mountains.

Those superior and noble beasts roam the plains freely, rejecting all restraints.

At a glance, Sion Laurel, who thoroughly ignores everything surrounding him, including Tienda, appears the same.

But there is one trap here.

It’s that even the wild horses of the western mountains live in herds among themselves.

“I thought this was a good proposal for both of us, but it seems it was too much for you, Count. To the point of giving up your precious daily life because of me…”

Ibi pretended to speak kindly while once again grating on Sion’s nerves, and Sion reacted faithfully this time as well.

To Ibi Ariate, whose life goal was to become a difficult person, the already excessively difficult Sion Laurel was truly an interesting subject.

In Ibi’s eyes, he was someone who could do whatever he wanted, yet he didn’t want anything and had settled in this remote village.

But it’s not like he fit well in this simple world either.

His lounging around in this village was actually as awkward as a lion sitting in a chicken coop.

You who belong neither here nor there, what is it that you want to do?

Ibi had been curious about this since the moment she discovered him in the village.

“I didn’t know your past times and memories were so cheap and light.”

Ibi continued to provoke his temper, treading the line between too far and not far enough. Of course, this was entirely unfamiliar to Sion.

“…Think of it however you like.”

Sion rose from his seat as if he didn’t want to argue.

He seemed to intend to leave just like that, so Ibi grabbed the hem of his clothes as he passed by her.

Thanks to this, Sion was considerably taken aback.

This was already the fourth time. That Ibi Ariate had invaded his personal space at will.

Whether it was covering his mouth with her hand at Manyanya Tower, hiding behind his back to avoid Lady Marso, or suddenly showing interest in his glasses and peering at them earlier.

Every time Ibi did this, what Sion felt was similar to the awkwardness one feels when an unfamiliar cat suddenly rests its head on you.

Too light to push away, yet too annoying to ignore.

Finally, when Sion stopped and turned around, Ibi admonished him in a firm voice.

“I didn’t say you could go.”

“Do I need permission?”

“Of course. Since you’ve been doing this and that without my permission until now, you need to diligently get permission from now on.”

This and that without permission – it’s a statement easy to misunderstand, almost as if done on purpose.

Meanwhile, Ibi’s expression was so confident that Sion rather lost his words.

Ibi smiled even more brightly at the Count who was like that.

From what Ibi Ariate had observed with interest, the reason this young lamb wandered alone.

It was because there was no shepherd.

Sion would coldly scoff if he knew, but Ibi thought his appearance was similar to herself when she was young.

Once, Ibi was a child no one held onto, and now the Count is someone no one can hold onto.

The positions of the two are worlds apart, but ridiculously, the result is the same.

In the sense of being lonely and isolated.

So Ibi decided to treat this Count as insignificant.

That way, the pride that others had inflated so much would be broken, and he would realize he was a person, not a cloud.

Whether wild horses or people, they all need a herd just the same.

“Don’t run away. I’ll protect you so you can live like you do now.”

Ibi held onto him and said again.

So Sion was starting to wonder if this was just playing with him.

Ibi seemed to choose only expressions that would irritate him, as if aiming for it.

Irresponsible, too much for you, giving up, cheap, light, get permission, don’t run away, and so on.

Plus the repeated “I’ll protect you.”

All were words Sion had never heard before and didn’t need to hear.

Dumbfounded by the continuous reproach, Sion asked coldly.

“Do you even have that ability?”

“Right, I’m so incompetent that all I can do is threaten you, Count.”

But Ibi Ariate rather excellently counterattacked.

Yet when the Count looked serious as if he might really get angry, she quickly changed her expression and added.

“But Count, I think will is more important than ability.”

What is she trying to say now…

Sion looked at her in disbelief, but Ibi ignored it again, pretending not to notice.

Instead, she fidgeted with the back of Sion’s shirt that she was still holding onto and said.

“For the past few days, I’ve been thinking about why you’re staying here of all places. You said you owed a debt to the old man, but I don’t think you’d come all the way to the house where that person lived just for such a reason.”

Ibi said this while looking at Sion as if seeking an answer.

Sion unknowingly averted his gaze. So Ibi whispered even more softly.

“I’m not sure what it is, but I think that two-story house has an important meaning for you, just like it does for me. So I don’t want to let you leave. It seems too lonely. Both for you, Count, and for the people of this village.”

Ibi’s whisper was infinitely virtuous, and Sion’s inner thoughts became complicated in turn.

He wasn’t used to such persistence.

Everything would fly away when he shook it off and become distant when he passed by.

Even clueless little kids clinging to him was only possible when he wore the thin mask of a teacher.

But Ibi approached him without hesitation and skillfully wormed her way in, knowing full well who he was.

By doing so, she shook his stubbornness, made him conflicted again, and finally made him admit.

To be honest, if he were to be exceptionally honest, one of the few times in his life, Sion wanted to continue this life.

But he didn’t want to compromise to do so. His pride, which had never been bent even once, thoroughly rejected it.

But when Ibi called it running away, the imperial pride faced a new crossroads.

Leaving without lingering over Ibi’s wordplay became running away, and what he thought was a compromise became an indomitable will instead.

So now it didn’t matter which he chose. It was up to him how to accept it.

And then she appealed to his emotions and held on pitifully, so Sion felt like he was about to give in.

In fact, he had already half given in.

The reason he was still holding out was because Ibi Ariate, doing her best to put on a kind expression, felt very fishy.

Sion knew from experience that Ibi was the type to smile brightly while hitting someone from behind, so he strongly suspected Ibi’s intentions.

Then realizing he could just ask, he began questioning.

“Are you being sincere right now?”

“A considerable part is sincere.”

“Any other motives?”

“Of course there are some.”

I thought so.

A smile spread across Sion’s face. It was a terribly cold sneer.

Ibi shook her head in dismay as the Count, who had seemed about to give in, became stubborn again.

“Um, Count. There’s no need to act like this right now…”

“So what are your motives?”

Sion asked lightly.

He intended to confirm Ibi Ariate’s pretense and criticize her for spouting such pretty words.

But what came out of Ibi’s mouth was completely unexpected.

“I’m curious about your curse, Count.”

At those words, Sion’s expression instantly froze.