Chapter 21

As she pressed her against the wall, the small woman seemed even smaller. Her snow-white head was so tiny that it could easily be hidden under a single palm. This small woman, with her frail body, was worried about him, who seemed twice as big as her. Not just anyone, but Daniel Rihardt. The man often called a mad dog, a hunting dog, or even an animal rather than a human. "Today, Frida is confessing to today's Duke. I like you." It was only after recalling that casual confession, which he had initially dismissed, that he began to vaguely understand the reason for his irritability over the past few days towards his wife, who had done nothing wrong, or towards something that didn't even exist. "I like the Duchess. A lot. More than Leopold." Perhaps he wanted to put up a front, spouting nonsense about duty and such, to prevent this damned memory from resurfacing. He didn't want to be reminded of his naive and innocent youth by those clear, unblemished eyes that revealed everything. Confirming his own meanness and pettiness through someone else was far worse than he imagined. And it was pitiful. Which was worse: not getting back the affection shyly offered or realizing the stark reality of the person who offered it? What sin had this small woman committed to have to endure both? The strength in his tightly clenched fists, which felt like they would burst with blood, drained away with surprising ease, leaving him feeling utterly helpless. At the same time, he felt angry. Damn Empress. She had already ruined her own and his mother's lives; why did she have to drag in someone completely unrelated? A hint of red began to seep into Daniel's russet eyes. 'Wow... he's big.' The first impression of her husband, who was right in front of her, was that he was 'big.' The strong smell of sweat emanating from the giant man before her was also intriguing. How much exercise had he done to make his shirt, which he had just put on, stick to his chest like that? Frida, who had never experienced sweating or drenching in sweat, found the sight of Daniel, who looked like a freshly caught fish with his pulse jumping, and his vibrant presence, utterly fascinating. It had been less than a month since her husband regained consciousness, yet he was already riding horses and training in the arena every day without fail. He was truly strong. It was only then that she truly felt he was a swordsman like Ricardo or Muriel. After all, how surprised she had been when she first changed his clothes. His skin, as hard as if she were touching a rock, didn't yield to her touch. The contrast between his finely chiseled face and his bulky, muscular body had left her speechless for a moment. She had never seen anyone with such thick arms. It was hard to believe that such a robust man could just lie there breathing. When they decided to sell her last remaining bed and stay in the same room, she had been afraid to lie next to him, who slept as cold as a corpse. However, lying next to her husband was unexpectedly warm. On cold winter nights when the fire in the fireplace had gone out, or when wolves howled, or when the wind rattled the windows, just having someone next to her made her feel warm and at ease. She didn't wish for those days to last forever, but she never imagined she would be this close to her husband, smelling his strong scent. The sweat on his sharp jaw moved up and down at the same pace as her heart. When she raised her eyes, she saw his Adam's apple, as large as her fist, also moving. It was then that she understood what it meant to be breathless. Frida found the dynamic movements before her both unfamiliar and a little... envious. Just then, a sweat drop hanging from his chin showed signs of falling. She quickly raised the hem of her sleeve to dab his chin. His hand, like a hawk catching its prey, swiftly grabbed her wrist. "What are you doing?" "Y-You're sweating a lot. Oh, Duke, your eyes... are..." Daniel, letting go of her arm, turned away and covered his face. Walking to where the water bottle was, he took a few sips. Frida tilted her head, puzzled. 'Strange. His eyes definitely looked a bit red.' Ricardo and Dominic had repeatedly emphasized: if you see the Duke's eyes turn red, avoid him at all costs. Don't ask questions, just close your mouth and run. 'What should I do? Should I run?' If the current Frida, who had 'run' on the tip of her tongue, had been seen by the Hackborn family's governess, she would have probably fainted from shock. Frida stretched her arm back to fumble for the doorknob. Gulping, Daniel put the water glass down on the table and said, "If you have nothing more to say, you can go now." Words? Only then did Frida remember the purpose of her visit, and she let go of the doorknob she had just grabbed. "Right. Are you really going to duel with Muriel tomorrow?" "As you heard." "Are you serious? The stakes are incredibly high now." "Stakes?" The Duke's eyes, fortunately, were the deep russet she often saw. Frida, no longer on guard, walked confidently to the center of the room where her husband was. "Everyone is betting on who will win the duel tomorrow. The whole castle is buzzing. According to Adel, not only the servants but the entire mercenary group has placed bets." When she went to the kitchen, people were pulling out money everywhere. Most were copper and silver coins, but there were also silver coins, and she thought she saw a gold coin. She was about to scold them for spending their hard-earned money on this, but Dominic stopped her. "Let them be. It's been a long time since they had something fun to watch. You should place a bet too, Duchess. Although, the tide seems to have already turned." Since coming to the duchy, she had never seen people's eyes sparkle like this. "Tomorrow, everyone will stop what they're doing to watch the duel." Daniel, perched on the table, picked up the water glass again to finish it. Behind the glass, which partially obscured his view, his wife's purple eyes, unable to hide her anxiety, watched him. It had been a long time since he had seen someone so worried and anxious about him. Apart from when he was very young, it was a rare occurrence, and he couldn't even guess when it had last happened. Not to mention the Molli family, who clung to him, and the people around him, who had long accepted his departures and battles as a matter of course. Even his mother always pretended to be fine in front of him, acting as if she were the bravest woman in the world, even in her dying moments. Putting down the glass, he looked at his wife, who was laying all her emotions bare. He crossed his arms loosely, ready to hear more. "So?" "Of course, you should cancel the duel. It's too late to back out. You haven't fully recovered yet. Dueling with Muriel in your condition could be dangerous." A chuckle escaped him involuntarily. He didn't know why being injured was such a big deal, but it was clear she thought he would lose. This Daniel. Before joining the mercenary group, he must have been around thirteen. At that time, he had already made Dominic, who was two years older, kneel. He had split Ricardo's sword in half when he was probably seventeen. From the age of nineteen, he began to fight in wars at the request of the Empress, who was then the Duchess. After Leopold started his fight for the throne, he had been through hundreds of battles, never losing a single one. He was amazed by his wife's innocent worry, born from a complete lack of understanding. "Then you should bet on Sir Rosivalt. If the stakes are high, it could be a good profit." "That's..." From her evasive gaze, he could guess the outcome of the bets in the kitchen. It was obvious that the majority had bet on Sir Rosivalt. Even if he was the undefeated Duke Rihardt, three years without a sword would have dulled his skills, they must have thought. Daniel clenched and unclenched his fist, reacquainting himself with the sensation in his arm. The day Frida was found behind the bookshelf, when he had instinctively raised his sword to block Sir Rosivalt's attack, felt different from today. He didn't know how much of the legendary strength of Rosivalt, known throughout the empire, he could withstand. But defeating an opponent with a sword wasn't just about strength. It wouldn't be easy, but Daniel Rihardt never fought to lose. Few knew that his undefeated legend came from meticulous strategy, not just swordsmanship or strength. Moreover, this was a duel for the legendary sword 'Coldar,' which Muriel Rosivalt, the best swordsman in the Rosivalt family, had in his possession. He wouldn't have entered the duel without the intention of winning. Those who knew Daniel, especially the fox-like Dominic, might already have placed a large bet on his side and be smirking. Daniel, getting off the table, walked to the window to stretch his shoulders and cool off the remaining heat from his sweat in the cool spring evening breeze. Frida, still fidgeting, followed him closely. "Muriel practices swordsmanship every day without fail. I've never seen him slack off. You know about Muriel's sword, right? The legendary sword that can cut through a massive tree with one strike..." "Duchess." Daniel, who had opened the window halfway, turned to look at Frida. His short, neatly cut hair fluttered in the breeze. Closing his eyes slowly and then opening them, he spoke lazily. "Are you feeling better now?" "Huh?" "You suddenly fell ill and couldn't fulfill your duties. I apologize." Reciting the memorized sentence word for word, he quietly asked, "To me, you look very healthy now, more than capable of fulfilling your duties as a wife." The chatter that had been flowing from her lips stopped instantly. Daniel, not in a hurry, blinked slowly and waited for her response. Even if she said she was better, he had no intention of touching her. He just wanted to end this conversation and continue training his body. To withstand Rosivalt's relentless attacks, he needed to strengthen his arms, and he felt it was a waste of time to be here. If not, so be it. If she said she would, he would send her back to the room and pretend to forget. "Ah, I think I need a few more days..." "What's the reason this time?" If he hadn't asked the question so quickly, without giving her a chance to protest. He was about to tell her to leave, thinking he had heard enough, when Frida, hesitating, spoke. "Well, you see... I haven't... completely finished my... monthly cycle." "..." It was a word he had never heard before, but Daniel didn't ask what it meant. He had a feeling it was better not to. *** Thump, thump, thump. The careless footsteps echoed through Neuban Castle, where the Duke of Svargen, Duke Updyke, was staying. A young blonde man, sliding down the second-floor railing, burst into the hall and shouted at the knight who had just entered. "Is it true? Really? My hero, the mad dog Daniel, has really woken up?"