Chapter 20

"Get lost."

Daniel pushed Dominic's face, which was flushed with excitement at the prospect of a new victim to replace him, hard.

"Ouch."

The force made Dominic stagger back, almost losing his balance.

"Oh, are you okay? Dominic."

Frida's voice, laced with concern for the boy, made Daniel momentarily regret his action, but he quickly became indifferent. Pretending to be a well-behaved nobleman's son was always going to be a matter of time before the mask slipped. It wasn't even a particularly impressive mask. When he wore it, he at least tried to be polite, always considering and respecting his wife... and what else? He must have hit his head hard three years ago. The nagging words his mother had drilled into him were now hazy. But even trying to remember them was a hassle. It was all because of her, crossing lines and stirring up trouble. If she had just stayed on her side, they could have seen only the good in each other. Why did she have to act so unnecessarily? Daniel sat on the desk, crossing his arms loosely. His appearance was so unruly that Dominic, who had been straightening his back, burst into a smirk.

'I thought you were better than this.'

After all this time of putting on airs, he must have finally found it tedious. Indeed, Daniel's voice remained dry, monotonous, and sarcastic.

"Whether a rat or a noble, he's someone sent by the Emperor. We'll have to keep him around for a while."

"We'll need to increase the number of servants. Now that we have a butler to manage them in the von Meinheim castle."

"Do as you please."

"Lord Boild should stay in the castle for a while, right? There's no suitable mansion in the territory..."

"Do as you see fit."

Daniel nodded slightly to call Dominic.

"When the rat arrives, just keep an eye on him. Don't stop him from sending letters. Let the Empress Dowager feel that the baron is doing well."

"Yes, my lord."

"Since we have a noble butler, you should step back from the inner castle duties and focus on training the mercenaries."

"Yes, sir."

Frida's disappointed gaze pierced the back of Dominic, who answered as if he had been waiting for it. Daniel looked at his wife, who was wrapped in a long dress. If she had sent a letter saying she was ill, she should have stayed in her room, not going in and out of the castle. He hadn't planned to entrust her with this task, but now she would be stuck in the castle for a few days.

"I plan to hold a knighthood ceremony in two months. It will be as grand and luxurious as possible. Give the first task to Lord Boild, and you just watch."

"Luxurious... and grand?"

Repeating the two words, Frida asked if he was serious. Daniel immediately confirmed it.

"Yes. Tell them to prepare the knight's uniform, flags, and horse saddles to be as eye-catching as possible."

"Are you planning to make us a laughingstock?"

Daniel easily dismissed Dominic's objection with a single gesture.

"Make the new butler so busy that he doesn't know what's happening outside the castle. If you want to delay the news of our road construction reaching the royal family, that is."

Frida slowly nodded, finally understanding his words.

"Ah... Yes, I understand."

"That's all I have to say. You may leave."

Daniel called Muriel, who was about to leave the room to open the door for Frida.

"Sir Rosivalt, stay."

Muriel gave Frida, who was looking at him with concern, a reassuring smile, though his heart was as busy as bees swarming a hive.

'Is today the day?'

Damn it, the price of his sins. He wished he could just get it over with. *** For a while, the duke said nothing to Muriel, who had been left behind. He just sat on the desk, staring at Muriel's sword.

'What are you trying to do, exactly?'

After a long silence, Daniel pointed at the scabbard with his chin.

"Is that sword 'Coldar'?"

Muriel nodded, following the duke's gaze to the black hilt.

"Yes, it is. Coldar, the family treasure of the Rosivalt family, was given by the first emperor, Karl I, to the ancestor of the Rosivalt family, who was a loyal servant."

"To become the owner of that sword, one must win a duel."

Since it was such a famous sword, Muriel had already prepared the answer before the duke asked.

"Yes, but only those who inherit the blood of Rosivalt are eligible."

"A sword too precious for a knight turned nursemaid to wield."

The duke's tone showed no hint of sarcasm, indicating he was genuinely speaking. Muriel, unable to find a response, kept his mouth shut. It wasn't entirely wrong.

"How did you become the bodyguard of the Harkbone family?"

To be asked such a trivial question after enduring the punishment of his sins. Muriel bit the inside of his lip to hide his annoyance.

"I once received great help from Lord Harkbone. I wanted to repay him, but he only wanted me to protect his only remaining daughter."

Since the topic of Miss Frida had come up, he couldn't help but add a few more words.

"I'm worried about the duchess. She's overworking herself. There are not enough hands, so she's taking care of too many things..."

"The Harkbone family originally had three daughters, didn't they? Two died young."

His tone was so indifferent that it could be mistaken for someone talking about a stranger's affairs. Muriel's voice, even to her, sounded very cold.

"Yes, both passed away at the age of sixteen. They had the same illness as Miss Frida."

"Did they really die of illness?"

The way he frowned and asked made it seem like he was hearing about the Harkbone family's misfortunes for the first time. Did he really have to ask if they died of illness? As if delicate young ladies would swing swords and die like him. If Dominic was right about his lord having no heart, was he even more cold-blooded than the rumors suggested? Seeing him in person, Muriel understood why such things were said. He swallowed hard, suppressing the bitter words rising to his throat.

"Yes, both had the same hair, eyebrows, and skin as Miss Frida, except for their eye color."

"Does having pale skin make someone die? Just bad luck, I guess."

The duke sneered, muttering indifferently. Something rose from Muriel's heart, choking him. Pale skin? Because of that skin, Miss Frida can't even see the sun properly or wear revealing clothes. What about her worsening eyesight? For the past three years, she has been taking care of you, a man with no consciousness, washing and cleaning you every day. No matter how tired and exhausted she was, she massaged your limbs morning and night, afraid you would stiffen. Do you even know that your quick recovery is thanks to her, who has been sacrificing her own life to save you? What? Just bad luck? What kind of nonsense is that! Muriel screamed silently, then took a deep breath, barely suppressing the words that threatened to choke him. Even if it was due to a misunderstanding, it felt good to have thrown a punch. The Emperor's mad dog. A wicked black beast. These are the words used to describe Duke Daniel Rihardt, a swordsman. His fourth brother, who had seen the duke on the battlefield, called him a 'calm butcher.' He would stab his sword as if he were enjoying a stroll, not a battle. Indeed, such rumors don't just spread. There are always reasons.

"Is there no one in the Rosivalt family who died young?"

What is he getting at now? The unexpected question finally broke Muriel's composure.

"Of course there is. I have a younger brother, and several cousins..."

"Most of them probably have the same reddish-brown hair and gray eyes. It's a characteristic of the Rosivalt family."

"Yes."

"According to your logic, shouldn't you also have the same illness as them?"

"What? What do you mean?"

Daniel, who had been leaning back, stood up, gently bending his wrist. His presence filled the room as he walked slowly.

"The same hair color, the same skin, similar eyes. From what I see, the situation of the Harkbone and Rosivalt families doesn't seem much different."

"But Miss Frida..."

"What if Sir Rosivalt were to die in an accident tonight?"

Daniel stood in front of Muriel, towering over him, making him look up slightly.

"My wife, despite her family's reputation for short lives, has lived longer than a bodyguard and is considered lucky to have a fatal illness."

The duke's face was cold as he spoke incomprehensible words.

"Stop worrying about my wife. Why don't you test your luck?"

"My luck?"

"Yes, luck. To defeat me, you'll need more luck than skill, won't you? Even though I haven't held a sword for three years."

Daniel blinked lazily, like a well-fed predator.

"If you win the sparring match, I'll grant you one wish. Anything. No conditions."

A sudden sparring match? And a wish if he wins? Muriel, doubting his ears, asked.

"Anything?"

The duke's lips twitched as he nodded lightly.

"In return, if I win."

It was the most tasteless smile Muriel had ever seen.

"I'll take Coldar."

*** Each time Daniel bent his arm, the number he spat out increased.

"Fifty-four, fifty-five."

Indeed, the sensation in his left arm returned much faster than in his right. His body lifted more easily when he did push-ups with his left arm compared to his right.

"Fifty-six, fifty-seven."

Instead of his right arm, which was resting on his back, his left arm, which bore his weight, continued to bend and straighten. Then, the quiet wall, which had not heard even the sound of an ant for days, rang out. Knock, knock. Daniel, who had just finished sixty push-ups and was wiping the sweat from his forehead, glared at the wall connecting to the duchess's room. Knock, knock. When did he start being so cautious? Daniel, who had been about to grab a towel to wipe his sweat, changed his mind and walked straight to the door. Click.

"Your Grace. I have something to say... Oh my!"

Frida, who had come face to face with Daniel, who had completely taken off his shirt, quickly turned her head and closed her eyes.

"Why, why are you... undressed?"

"Surprised? I thought you were familiar with my body since you've been washing and cleaning me for three years."

"Well, that was... when you were unconscious."

That's right. I was like a dead man, and you were touching me however you wanted. Damn it. The heat from his body after exercise spread throughout him. Daniel, who had stepped back, found a shirt carelessly thrown on the bed and put it on over his head.

"What brings you here? I thought you wouldn't even come near this door."

"People in the castle are saying that Your Grace will have a sparring match with Muriel tomorrow. Is that true?"

"It's true."

As he put on his shirt, he could feel Frida's urgent breathing from behind.

"Your Grace, Muriel is not just any knight. He is one of the strongest knights from the Rosivalt family, with excellent sword skills. He was even rumored to be a candidate for the royal knight commander."

Turning around, he saw Frida, her eyes wide with worry, looking up at him.

"Are you worried that I might not know...?"

Worried? Everyone around you is on edge, thinking you might die tomorrow. Who is worrying about whom now? Daniel, slowly pushing Frida against the wall, stopped when her back touched it and stretched his hands above her head. Frida, focused on her husband's twisted lips, didn't notice the redness in his eyes.

"Has our wife not heard the rumors about her husband?"