Chapter 5
Lloyd’s most closely guarded secret was this: he had an alarmingly serious fondness for all things small and cute.
And not merely a passing fondness. His affection for such things went far, far beyond the ordinary. It was so deep that he might as well have plucked out his very heart and laid it as an offering if only it could please them.
And Raiel, through his eyes, was the very embodiment of that taste.
Skin pale as porcelain. A small, fragile frame that looked as though a mere touch might send her toppling. Silver hair is soft and fine, like rabbit’s down.
Large, round eyes. Her luminous, wide eyes seemed to belong to some gentle woodland creature. Truly, if a rabbit were ever to take human form, would it not appear just so? Would it not appear as Raiel?
“I do not know what troubles you, sir knight,” Raiel said evenly, her voice calm yet unwavering, “but I have no thought of running away.”
“The Ducal House is not a place one may take lightly.”
Even aside from its strange retainers, the house itself was fraught with peril. Its power was said to rival even that of the Emperor. And because of that very strength, hyenas forever circled, eager to tear away at the Grand Duke’s estate.
The Ducal House was the only noble line under the direct protection of the Guardian Deity; through that protection, the Empire was kept safe from foreign invasion and from the ravages of monsters.
Yet despite all that, the house’s circumstances of late had grown tangled. Unknown forces stirred within the duchy, and spies appeared ceaselessly.
As long as Carpel lived and stood strong, none of these could pose a true threat but in times of danger, the young lady before him would suffer greatly.
“I am prepared for all of it,” Raiel replied.
Rumors about the Grand Duke aside, she had always known that life at his side, by virtue of his station, would never be smooth or easy.
“If you do not flee now,” Lloyd urged, “you may never escape.”
“To fear what I have not yet endured, and to run from it blindly would be cowardice. And it would not be the right way to face the problem, either.”
Her gaze was clear and upright, her gentle expression firm with will and determination.
At that, Lloyd quietly abandoned his plea. He still worried whether she could truly live unharmed in a household brimming with such bizarre souls, but it was plain she was not nearly as fragile as he had imagined.
And so he resolved instead to honor her choice. If he feared for her, then he would simply remain by her side and protect her with all his strength.
“If ever hardship befalls you in the Ducal House, please speak to me. I will do anything to aid you, my lady.”
“Thank you.”
It was a kindness from a stranger, perhaps too heavy to accept comfortably, yet Raiel did not refuse. After all, he was the Grand Duke’s sworn knight. Surely in the days ahead his help would be of no small use.
“I swear it upon my very soul and life,” Lloyd said solemnly.
“Your words are kind but do not pledge your life so carelessly,” Raiel answered, her tone soft yet firm.
Lloyd could only gaze at her in reverence, awe brightening his features.
‘Truly… like a rabbit divine.’
She seemed to shine with a halo, her presence so radiant that the very air felt cleansed, as though a goddess had descended in living form.
“May I know your name, sir?” Raiel asked him.
If she were to wed the Grand Duke and dwell within his household, their paths would surely cross often. Knowing his name seemed only proper.
“I am Lloyd Spellon, knight sworn to His Grace the Grand Duke.”
“A pleasure to meet you. I am Raiel of House Zaberne.”
Her smile bloomed then bright and gentle, enough to light the very room around her.
At that smile, Lloyd flushed red, clutching at his chest as if the sheer loveliness of her pained his heart.
***
In the reception hall of House Zaberne, a suffocating silence lingered. Carpel had yet to answer the viscount’s question of why he wished to marry his daughter and sat instead tapping absently at the armrest with his fingers.
The silence was unbearable. The viscount wished he might simply faint, if only to escape it.
The longer it stretched, the heavier the invisible weight pressing upon him became.
Once a count, he had met many great men in his time—but never, never had he faced one so overwhelming as Carpel.
Not even before the Emperor had he felt such suffocating dread.
“… Because I love her.”
At last, Carpel spoke. His tone was flat, almost indifferent, yet his heart shook violently within him simply for uttering that word; love.
The moment the word passed his lips, her face rose unbidden in his mind.
Even as a child in his memory, she had always been so lovely, so endearing. His heart could never help but stir, could never help but long.
“Pardon?”
Both the viscount and Yvern spoke at once, staring in disbelief.
“I love her. I am in love with her.”
Carpel’s brow furrowed, as though irritated at having to repeat himself. Yet even so, his heart quivered as if melting, unsteady beneath the weight of the feeling he declared.
Yuren, meanwhile, looked as though struck dumb.
‘Is the world ending?’
This man, who had always seemed utterly devoid of human sentiment, was speaking of love.
Could it be a mistake? Had he meant the opposite?
But no. The faintest, shy curl of Carpel’s lips betrayed the truth.
Yuren felt as though the very heavens had overturned. He could scarcely process it. From the moment Carpel began his reckless search for a bride, he had seemed deranged. But to think that all of it was for the sake of love–!
The viscount, too, sat frozen in shock.
None of it made sense.
Surely the Grand Duke and his daughter had never even met.
Indeed, they had never had the chance. Carpel rarely left his duchy, and by the time he had begun to show himself, House Zaberne had already been stripped of its countship and exiled to the borderlands.
If Carpel spoke only for the sake of securing a marriage, perhaps. But no, even that explanation rang hollow.
And though he could see their doubt written plainly across their faces, Carpel ignored it, wearing his usual mask of indifference. He had answered because they asked, nothing more. He had no intention of elaborating further.
The viscount finally began to gather himself, readying words of reply when a maid arrived to announce Raiel’s entrance.
Carpel reacted before either of the others.
The languor vanished from his features in an instant. He leapt to his feet, tense as a bowstring.
‘At last…’
How long he had waited for this moment.
Each day without her had dragged like ten years. Even the smallest tedium had become unbearable in her absence.
Now, after twelve long years, he would see her again.
His chest swelled with both joy and unbearable nerves. Unconsciously, he held his breath, his fingers tapping against the chair’s armrest.
Then the door opened, and Raiel entered.
“It is an honor to meet you, Your Grace. I am Raiel of House Zaberne.”
Graceful and elegant, she lifted the hem of her gown in greeting.
Her attire, though more adorned than usual, was still simple by noble standards but it only made her beauty shine brighter.
Carpel could not speak.
Her voice, light and delicate as it reached him, felt like a divine blessing, holy and enchanting.
And her presence, filling his vision entirely, was so dazzling it threatened to undo him.
‘How can a person be so beautiful?’
It was as though all the world’s loveliness had been gathered into her alone.
Her gentle eyes sparkled like stars caught in midnight’s veil, and her smile – oh, her smile, was that of a benevolent goddess.
Carpel’s breath caught in his throat. He could not even move his body. His limbs felt like stone, his lips bound fast, as though any breath might betray too much.
His heart thundered wildly, untamed, its pounding so loud it rang in his ears.
“Your Grace?” Raiel asked softly, sensing the storm of turmoil within him.
He tried to answer, his lips trembling but no words came. His senses were scattered, his thoughts incoherent.
“I… that is, I…”
His tongue darted nervously across dry lips, his chest burning.
She was all he could see, all he could think of. And so, though he opened his mouth, he could not recall what words he had meant to speak.
Frustration twisted his features into a scowl. Yuren shuddered beside him. Carpel’s presence had always been intimidating but now, furrowed in vexation, he seemed a monster incarnate.
Surely the young lady before him would flee in terror.
But Raiel did not.
For she was not afraid of him, not in the least.
Her gift let her sense what lay hidden beneath outward appearances. And what she felt in Carpel was nothing of cruelty.
No. His aura, though fierce in its guise, was as sweet as spun sugar, as soft and warm as linens dried beneath the sun.
Thus she could remain calm, even serene, before him.
“If it pleases Your Grace, might I know your name?” she asked gently.
The question was of kindness; a lifeline. She had seen his confusion, and offered him a simple way forward.
And at last, Carpel remembered. How foolish, struck dumb like a boy, unable even to say his own name.
“…Carpel. Carpel Jein d’Yvern.”
His voice, though he tried to make it even, trembled despite him, betraying his tension.
He could scarcely hold back the torrent of feeling within.
‘…How endearing.’
Raiel thought as she watched him.
So fierce, so perilous in appearance yet in truth, so gentle. His aura sparkled with warmth and devotion, wagging like a faithful hound’s tail.
He looked less like a Grand Duke than a flustered youth, bewildered by his first love.
“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Raiel said with a radiant smile, her voice bright as sunlight.
“… Likewise.”
‘To meet you is my greatest joy.’
But joy was too small a word. Even all the words of beauty in the world could not contain what he felt.
Yet his voice was so soft it barely reached her ears.
“Pardon, Your Grace?” she asked, tilting her head, her clear gaze fixed upon him.
At her eyes upon him, Carpel’s face flushed crimson. So lovely she already was but to be beheld so openly, so innocently, nearly burst his heart outright.
He could not look away, nor bear to meet her gaze, and so sat caught between the two, blushing furiously while his face remained outwardly cold.
At that moment, the viscount steeled himself to begin speaking of the marriage at last–
– only to be interrupted by a resounding noise that broke the silence.
Yuren’s stomach growled.
