Chapter 19
The surprise only lasted a moment.
But as I looked at the boy’s unusually serious face, I couldn’t help but tense up as well.
‘What is it? What’s he going to say?’
But what Gabriel said next was surprisingly… mundane.
“I’ll send you letters.”
I couldn’t reply right away.
Then I remembered: Gabriel had previously said he would write to Rosériel.
But Gabriel wasn’t finished yet.
“And if I do… I’d like a reply…”
“Huh?”
I couldn’t quite catch his mumbled words and furrowed my brows slightly.
Gabriel flinched visibly.
What, was there a bug or something?
But there was nothing near him. I was about to tilt my head in confusion when—
“If I received a letter back from you, I’d be happy.”
“…Ah.”
My eyes widened.
He spoke so fast, it was almost like he was rapping.
Up until now, he’d always spoken so slowly—it made me think that had been an act.
‘Did he just… ask me to write him back?’
I didn’t get it.
We didn’t have anything to talk about. It was a rather awkward favor to ask.
Then it suddenly clicked.
‘Oh. He must want updates about Rosériel.’
Maybe he thought it would be difficult to ask Rosériel directly and decided to go through me.
Now understanding the boy’s complicated intentions, I nodded calmly.
“Okay, Your Grace. I’ll write back.”
“…Aren’t you going to call me Gabriel?”
“?”
Why would I call you Gabriel?
Especially when you’d just make that scowly face about it.
It was as if the warmth he had shown just moments ago was all a lie—his expression had turned cold once again.
He looked like he was frowning slightly, and I realized I was unintentionally doing the same.
All I could do was nod again.
“Hey there!”
Just then, Rosériel jumped in.
Watching the two of them chat happily, I took a step back.
“Lady Rosériel.”
Gabriel’s expression softened the moment he saw her, like he was greeting a dear younger sister.
It looked so familiar, so comfortable.
I wasn’t particularly upset—it was nothing new to be treated coldly or disliked.
So I looked toward my father instead.
He gave me a slight nod.
I took Rosériel ’s hand and stepped further back.
“Then, my lord. It’s time to depart.”
With the sound of the group getting ready to move, Gabriel quickly mounted his black horse.
That small boy on a tall, dark horse—this would probably be the last time I’d see that image.
Gabriel moved away firmly, as if he had no intention of looking back.
The knights followed in a long procession behind him.
Next to me, Rosériel was smiling.
Why is she smiling?
“Rose… Aren’t you worried?”
“Hmm? What did you say, sis?”
Why do her eyes sparkle like gemstones?
She was still just a child—maybe too young to understand what it meant for her future fiancé to leave for a dangerous battlefield.
I wanted to comfort her.
“It’s okay, Rose. The Duke will return safely.”
“Hehe. Of course he will, right?”
“Rose?”
Rose gripped my hand tightly and grinned like a mischievous child.
Her expression was so playful that I couldn’t help but relaxed as well.
“But sis.”
“Mm? What is it?”
“Which angle do you think is better?”
“……What?”
She was my little sister, but sometimes she said the most incomprehensible things. What did she mean by angle?
“Hmm, never mind. I’ll decide. I think straight on is best!”
“……”
She burst into laughter, carefree and radiant.
I had no idea what she was talking about, but maybe it didn’t matter. That’s just how kids are—laughing at fallen leaves, for no reason.
I figured this was Rose’s own way of not letting herself feel sad.
I gently stroked her pink hair.
I felt a twinge of guilt for her.
Because from this moment on, Gabriel would be bound to the battlefield for twelve long years.
And when he returned…
That would be the true beginning of The Young Lady Is Sweet.
I finally turned my eyes away from the sight of their silhouettes, now only specks in the distance.
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Even with the years gone by, the woman remained as elegant as ever.
She held the most noble position in the Mielle Empire.
But despite the gentle music filling the room, her face was clouded with visible anxiety.
“So it’s just as I feared…”
Tak tak—she nervously bit her long, perfectly manicured nails.
Watching her from nearby was her son, Crown Prince Benjamin.
He thought the habit was unbecoming, but didn’t bother pointing it out.
All he felt was concern for his mother.
“Mother, your nails…”
“My son. Crown Prince.”
“Yes.”
When their eyes met, the Empress’s expression turned stern.
“If Gabriel marries into House Hillington, your position as heir may be threatened. That conniving Detroit is clearly aiming for that!”
“Yes, I’m aware, Mother.”
Benjamin’s expression hardened.
Detroit—his father and his mother’s husband.
But never, even once, had he felt close to the man.
After all, that man valued the blood of Belkius—someone not even of his own lineage—more than his own son.
Despite the anger boiling inside, Benjamin simply nodded with obedient calm.
“Don’t worry. I’ll handle it, Mother.”
“Hmph. Will you always just be that gentle?”
“Because I want to be your good son.”
“You’re nothing like that harsh Belkius.”
The Empress clicked her tongue in displeasure at his meek voice, but Benjamin was the kind of boy who would kneel if his mother asked. Without question.
“Fine. One can’t change what they’re born with. But remember—I did not raise you to hesitate at a crucial moment.”
“Of course.”
“If you hold a sword, you must strike when the time comes.”
“Naturally, Mother.”
Benjamin deeply loved and revered his mother.
He’d grown up hearing again and again that he must be a good son to his mother, and he was willing to do whatever it took to become one.
“Still… Why did that wretched Gabriel suddenly change his mind? I don’t understand. It’s unsettling. Did House Hillington scheme something?”
Benjamin smiled faintly.
He hated hearing about that disgusting Belkius boy—but hearing his mother’s sharp voice still brought him joy.
“Who can say what’s in his head? But don’t worry, Mother.”
“And why is that?”
“Because whatever his plans are, they’ll be meaningless. He’s leaving the capital for who knows how many years, isn’t he?”
“Yes… You’re right.”
A strange smile crept across the Empress’s lips. Yes, that’s right.
It had been part of a plan long in the making.
Thanks to it, that 12-year-old Duke had been all but exiled to the battlefield.
And that battlefield was a place where life and death crossed paths. A place where no one could predict who might die, or when.
“If he doesn’t return… that ridiculous engagement talk will disappear on its own. Don’t you agree, my son?”
The Empress reached out, and Benjamin crawled forward on his knees, resting his cheek in her hand.
“My dear… just endure a little longer. This mother of yours will gift you a glorious empire.”
“Yes…”
An empire no one would dare to defy. A powerful and inviolable rule.
Even as those cruelly gleaming eyes looked down at him, Benjamin only gripped her hand tighter.
“So you must try your best, too. Live for me. Always. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mother.”
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Twelve years later.
A long, grueling war—twelve endless years of it.
The Mielle Empire’s forces, strengthened by enchantments and powerful abilities, were mighty.
But their enemies, fighting for survival, had been just as fierce. A drawn-out stalemate persisted for years.
Countless lives were lost. The Empire too suffered its share of wounds.
But it wouldn’t last much longer now—the tide had turned.
“The end is near.”
The man spoke in a cold voice, his gaze piercing the eerily silent enemy camp.
Just days ago, he had landed a massive blow.
His arrow had pierced the shoulder of the enemy’s supreme commander—a vital shot that left the man gravely wounded and teetering near death.
“Take down the leader, and the whole front will crumble.”
A striking man, observing with a cold, ruthless expression—
He was Gabriel von Ellen Belkius, supreme commander of the Mielle Empire’s forces, now nearly a god of war in his own right.
His loyal men bowed their heads in satisfaction, and his long-serving aide spoke familiarly.
“This next assault would end it all, my lord.”
“Indeed. But…”
Just then—
“Hm? My lord, isn’t that a messenger bird?”
A white falcon messenger landed from the sky and dropped a letter into Gabriel’s hand.
Everyone perked up with tense curiosity.
What news was this? An enemy movement? A breakthrough?
Gabriel began reading it casually.
“……Ha.”
“My lord? What is it?”
Then his soldiers saw it—something that shocked them.
Their normally stoic, even icy, commander… was shaking.
His hand trembled as he held the letter.
What could possibly shake him like this?
The battle was almost over—surely it wasn’t bad news again?
But then, Gabriel lifted his head.
His subordinates flinched.
His handsome face twisted into a look that seemed ready to slice someone in half.
The platinum-haired commander growled in a voice that seemed to rise straight from hell:
“Kill them.”
“…Pardon?”
“Kill them all. I need to return. Now.”
“…Sorry, what, my lord?”
“This war ends in a week. I’m going back.”
Everyone’s eyes widened. Had he lost his mind?
A week?!
His aide, standing closest, checked the letter Gabriel had angrily tossed aside—and his own expression turned frigid.
‘Of course. It’s not even important…’
He quickly disposed of the letter before anyone else could read it. A scowl rose unbidden to his face.
Because the letter hadn’t been about the enemy forces at all.
No miraculous recovery of their dying commander.
No signs of a desperate final stand.
It was… something else entirely.
Sigh…
The letter simply announced that the two young ladies of House Hillington were to debut this season.
