Chapter 31
Between Adonis and Adolf, I wondered which of them would come out to greet me, but it was Adonis who appeared.
The Count of Betrice likely chose not to come, having already shown me his sentiments. I suppressed a brief smile and offered a polite greeting to Sir Adonis as he walked up to me, dressed unusually casually—neither in his academy uniform nor the familiar uniform of the Imperial Guard, but in simple, everyday attire, which felt refreshingly different.
Judging by the light sweat on her brow, it seemed she had been practicing even on her day off.
“What brings you here so unexpectedly, without prior notice?”
“I felt there was something I needed to retrieve from you.”
“Something you need to retrieve…? Ah, perhaps you mean the handkerchief?”
After all, I’d previously said there was no need to return it, so claiming now that there was something to collect must have seemed slightly absurd.
“I’m only joking.”
“….”
“In fact, I came because I have something to give you.”
A faint furrow appeared between her brows, as though she couldn’t discern what I might be offering. I waved the small paper envelope containing the ointment.
“I wanted to give this to you.”
Suddenly, Adolf Betrice appeared, casting glances between me and Sir Adonis. A few of the Betrice household staff were also watching us, though none of them invited me inside.
“Well then….”
Glancing around, uncertain of how long I was expected to stand, I murmured,
“My legs are growing tired—shall I stand here indefinitely?”
At that, Sir Adonis and the staff finally began to escort me indoors.
“It’s a fine garden you have here.”
“It cannot compare to that of a duke’s estate.”
Sir Adonis led me to the rear garden of the Betrice estate.
It was only natural for the gardens of the duke’s household or the royal family to be opulent, as they had invested substantially in them. Indeed, my own hobby, before being expelled from the duke’s household, had been tending to the gardens.
Usually, noble families’ gardens are tended to with particular care by the ladies of the household, but Sir Adonis didn’t seem to have much interest in such things, and as a result, the garden was quite modest.
She appeared not to take my compliment of the garden too seriously, either.
Once seated at a tea table in the garden, a maid from the count’s household brought a tea set. Given the warm day, she served iced milk tea, generously filled with ice.
“You mentioned you had something to give me, did you not?”
A faint breeze stirred in the garden, causing Sir Adonis’s red hair to lift and then settle again.
Adonis Betrice was certainly different from other noble ladies. Ordinarily, there would be some small talk, but she dispensed with all preamble.
Sensing her desire to swiftly address the purpose of my visit, I fidgeted with my cup before placing the ointment I’d received from the temple on the table.
“What is this?”
Her pale green eyes, the color of spring shoots, flickered briefly to the paper envelope, then back to me.
“It’s an ointment. I couldn’t ignore it any longer, so I brought it for you.”
I tapped my cheek with my forefinger, reminding her of the slap she’d received from the Count. A heavy sigh escaped her, for it was hardly a pleasant topic.
The Count of Betrice, and indeed Sir Adonis herself, must surely feel some embarrassment over the incident.
The Betrice family, steeped in the knightly tradition, must have held high expectations for Adolf Betrice, the son. Yet, ironically, it was the eldest daughter, Sir Adonis, who had shown exceptional promise—a situation the Count likely found difficult to accept.
From an outsider’s perspective, his behavior appeared rather absurd.
Adonis ceasing her training would not suddenly make Adolf an outstanding knight. And seeing the Count of Betrice judge his children not by their abilities but by gender revealed him to be a hidebound old man.
“…Thank you, my lady.”
I had expected her pride would prevent her from accepting the ointment, but Sir Adonis quietly took it from the table.
“I received it from a cleric with spiritual power. It will heal quickly. You can use it on more than just your cheek if you get hurt.”
“While you’re here, you might as well take back your handkerchief.”
“That’s unnecessary. It would be strange to take back something I’d already said I didn’t need. And you know the handkerchief was only an excuse.”
“The handkerchief isn’t the only excuse, is it?”
“Pardon?”
She took the small round ointment jar from the envelope and gave it a slight shake.
“Giving me this ointment—it’s merely another excuse, isn’t it?”
I had thought her indifferent to the nobles’ subtle maneuvering and veiled inquiries, but that had been my own misjudgment.
After all, Sir Adonis was still a noble herself, and it seemed she did not believe I’d come purely out of concern.
With a light smile, I acknowledged her perception that both the handkerchief and the ointment were mere pretexts.
Come to think of it, as a member of the Crown Prince’s guard, she would likely read the intentions of nobles better than most.
“If you have something further to say, please do.”
“Since you’re so direct, then I’ll speak plainly.”
For the first time, Sir Adonis, who hadn’t touched her cup until then, took a sip of tea.
“His Highness has asked me to annul the engagement.”
“Cough!”
“Oh dear, are you all right?”
In the stillness of the garden, Sir Adonis’s sudden fit of coughing echoed sharply.
Was it truly so surprising? I thought she might have heard something from Lerbian. Her face was beginning to flush a shade to match her red hair.
I offered her a handkerchief as she struggled to suppress her cough, her gaze fixed intently on me.
“Why… why are you telling me this? And, is this even something you ought to share with me?”
“His Highness seems resolute in his decision, and you don’t strike me as the sort to spread rumors.”
As one of Persephone’s close confidants, she would learn of it soon enough.
Since Persephone herself had urged me to finalize the matter, I knew that if I tried to delay, she would bring up the engagement’s dissolution publicly.
“He claims he has feelings for someone else. I wondered if you might know anything about it.”
She gazed at me with a slightly puzzled expression. As I wondered if I had misspoken, she finally responded.
“…Even if I did know, do you think I would tell you?”
The flush had vanished from her cheeks, and her expression had returned to its usual impassive calm, prompting me to shake my head.
“Of course not.”
Naturally, she would say nothing. Discretion was paramount for anyone close to royalty.
The only reason I could broach the subject of the engagement’s dissolution with Sir Adonis was that I trusted her discretion.
So then, how to find out? There were two options: press Lerbian, or press Persephone.
And given the choice, I decided it would be easier to press Lerbian than Persephone. Rising to leave, I prepared to take my leave.
“Well, I’ll be off…”
“Have you considered that the person he has feelings for might be me?”
The garden fell silent. The soft sounds of insects, the rustling of leaves, the distant clatter of swords from the count’s knights—all seemed to vanish in an instant.
Had her hand not been resting on her cup, I might have thought time itself had stopped.
…That was a response I hadn’t anticipated. Such probing remarks were the kind made by noblewomen in high society, not by someone as reserved and straightforward as Adonis Betrice.
How was I to respond to this? Swallowing a dry gulp, I settled back into my seat.
“Well… seeing as you don’t seem inclined toward romance or love, I had excluded you.”
“And what makes you think I’m not interested in such things?”
“I’ve observed you since our academy days. Of all people, I’m second only to Brother Lian in knowing that the only thing you’ve ever cared about is the sword.”
Rain or shine, sleet or snow, she was the one training in the practice yard.
If Adonis Betrice had an unrequited love, it would undoubtedly be for the sword itself.
That said, if Persephone’s feelings were indeed an unrequited love, Adonis Betrice could very well be the object of her affection.
After all, Persephone had always admired strength and resilience, and Adonis possessed both.
“Moreover, given how the Count reacted, it’s evident, isn’t it?”
“….”
“If he learned you had feelings for someone, he’d likely insist you give up the sword and marry.”
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