Chapter 13
Not long after, the two arrived at a secluded garden within the estate.
Diana hurried ahead to the small fountain, marveling at it as she explored her surroundings. It was ornate and shimmering—undeniably a testament to wealth.
Ersivan followed behind, carrying a pile of equipment that would have been too heavy for the average man.
“Would you extend your arm for a moment?”
After setting the load down beneath the fountain, Ersivan reached for Diana’s arm.
A moment later, he retrieved a pair of armguards from the pile and carefully secured them on her.
For someone so capricious, he had an odd habit of occasionally being unexpectedly kind.
“Thank you, Evan.”
“You express your gratitude quite frequently.”
Ersivan, looking completely at ease, responded nonchalantly.
For once, he seemed entirely unbothered, as though he had merely done something that required no second thought.
“That just means you’re considerate just as often.”
“There’s no need to thank me for something so trivial.”
He spoke in his usual detached manner, finishing the final adjustments to her armguards before straightening up.
Diana, pondering the meaning of his words, instinctively grabbed his sleeve.
“Trivial? There’s no such thing.”
“You are someone who deserves to be treated well.”
Diana tried to argue, but he remained firm in his stance.
His unwavering response, as though it were an absolute truth, made her feel a twinge of guilt.
She couldn’t shake the feeling that the only reason he spoke and acted this way was because she was seen as Lillian Mernard.
“Evan, I don’t believe there’s anyone in this world who is inherently deserving of special treatment.”
Diana spoke, her lips barely parting as she voiced her thoughts.
Strangely, she felt the urge to argue against him. Even though she knew she should be wary of him, she kept letting her guard down.
She lifted her gaze to meet his.
He did not interrupt. Instead, he remained silent, his expression one of patience, as if encouraging her to continue.
“…So, I’ve never thought of kindness as something that should be expected. It’s not me who is worthy for receiving it—it’s those who extend it who deserve recognition.”
For some reason, saying it out loud made her feel self-conscious.
If she was going to argue, she should have at least chosen her words more eloquently. Stumbling over them like this made her sound ridiculous.
And what was even more baffling—why was she even trying to convince him?
Ersivan Valencia was not someone who could be easily swayed. Why was she stubbornly pushing this issue, even at the risk of inviting trouble?
“…What exactly are you trying to say?”
“Please allow it.”
“Allow what, exactly?”
“Please don’t see my gratitude as a nuisance. My time in this estate is more precious to me than anything else, and I don’t want my feelings to be disregarded.”
Perhaps it was a foolish sentiment, but she was sincere.
She had always believed that expressing genuine gratitude was the least a fraud like her could do.
For the first time, she had spoken purely as herself, with no trace of Lillian’s influence.
Ersivan, caught off guard, was momentarily at a loss for words. Her words had left him bewildered, trapping him in his own thoughts.
“…Is that truly your belief? Or is it something you were taught to say?”
That was not something a daughter of Mernard should be capable of thinking.
‘Taught to say?’
His words had been quiet, but Diana heard them clearly.
Sensing something was off, she instinctively looked at him—only for him to turn his head away.
“That was a slip of the tongue.”
A moment later, he covered his face with one large hand.
But in that brief instant, Diana had seen his expression—and she took an involuntary step back.
Ersivan sometimes made that expression.
The look of someone gazing down in disdain, his crimson eyes sharp with contempt.
Of course, it made sense that he would dislike her, given that Lillian was the daughter of his sworn enemy.
But for a fleeting moment, his unguarded reaction filled Diana with fear.
‘If he ever finds out I’m an imposter…’
Even the thought made her blood run cold.
If he ever realized that she was an easy target for revenge, he might not hesitate to strike her down.
Unlike Lillian, Diana had no protection.
For someone like him, killing her would require no hesitation if it meant reclaiming a sense of freedom.
And as for the Count’s family, who had forced this deception upon him? They would be lucky if they escaped with their lives, let alone had the power to accuse him of wrongdoing.
That was why Diana had to endure, no matter what it took—at least until the wedding was over.
Once they were legally bound, even Ersivan wouldn’t be able to dispose of her so easily.
“Then, shall we begin your training?”
Ersivan, as if nothing had happened, now wore a bright and composed expression.
The sudden shift in atmosphere shattered the lingering tension, dragging Diana back to the present.
The sword he handed her was a training weapon—lighter and suited for beginners.
“This is how you hold it.”
His voice was calm as he continued his explanation, unnervingly composed as if the prior exchange had never occurred.
Diana followed his lead, gripping the sword and assuming a stance.
The first thing she learned was how to hold the sword properly.
Ersivan demonstrated by gripping the hilt of his own weapon and holding it up for her to see.
“Hmm…”
Some things looked easy at first glance—until you actually tried them.
This was one of those things.
Diana turned her head this way and that, observing from multiple angles, but as a beginner, it was difficult to mimic his hand movements just by glancing at them.
“Could you explain it in more detail?”
“…An explanation, you say.”
Ersivan mulled over her request, his expression turning slightly troubled.
Of course, explaining something like this would be difficult. After all, he had likely known it instinctively since birth.
“If you don’t mind, may I guide your hands?”
“That would be a great help.”
Rather than struggling to understand through guesswork, it was always better to experience it directly.
Welcoming the offer, Diana promptly agreed.
Ersivan stepped behind her, lowering himself slightly to match her height, his face nearing the side of her neck.
From that position, he began adjusting her stance.
First, he positioned her left hand firmly around the hilt. Then, he directed her right hand to rest slightly apart from the left, instructing her to maintain a slight gap.
One by one, he adjusted her fingers until her grip was complete.
“Think of your left hand as controlling the cutting force, while your right hand manages direction. Now, which hand do you think should exert more strength?”
“The one responsible for cutting?”
“Correct.”
Ersivan’s lips curled into a smooth smile.
Perhaps it was because the teacher himself was so refined, but Diana felt an odd sense of accomplishment.
“Now, lower your stance like this.”
Following his instruction, Diana awkwardly bent her knees.
As she shifted her weight, her legs began to tremble. Even the sword, which had seemed manageable at first, started to feel heavier.
“Everyone struggles in the beginning, but with more practice, you’ll adjust in no time.”
“Did Your Highness struggle as well?”
“…Pardon?”
“I was asking if you had a hard time when you first started, Evan.”
His answer didn’t come immediately.
So, the answer was no.
Even the cold-blooded must have a conscience—he wouldn’t outright brag about how easy it was when faced with a struggling novice.
With nothing else to say, Ersivan simply smiled to smooth over the moment.
“Then, here’s the second question. What kind of stance should you maintain when swinging a sword?”
“Hmm…”
As Diana pondered her response, Ersivan stepped closer.
“What should you be thinking about when you swing the blade?”
Then, without warning, he leaned in—his face drawing dangerously close to the sword’s edge.
“…What in the—!”
Startled, Diana tried to ease the tension in her arms, but the blade wavered unsteadily.
She worried it might graze his face. If he ended up with a scar, what then?
Of course, the bigger issue was that she would be guilty of injuring a duke. But truthfully, she was more concerned about leaving a flaw on that face.
Even as she urged him to step back, Ersivan refused to budge.
If anything, his stubbornness kicked in, and he leaned even closer.
Now, all it would take was a single blink for the blade to touch him.
Diana bit the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to focus.
“With the firm intent to cut… and—”
“And?”
“A fierce determination to win!”
“Excellent.”
Thankfully, it was the right answer.
Only then did Ersivan retreat, putting distance between them.
“Your glare might just pierce me instead.”
He chuckled, momentarily taken aback by the intensity of her glare.
But Diana only narrowed her eyes further.
“No, Evan, that was too much.”
“Ah, were you worried about me?”
“And did you expect me to be happy about it?”
She shot back immediately, prompting Ersivan to suddenly reach for the blade.
Gasp.
She was so shocked that she couldn’t even let out a sound. Instead, Diana instinctively shut her eyes, bracing herself for the gruesome sight to follow.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three.
When she finally dared to open her eyes, she looked at his palm.
Contrary to her fears, there was no gruesome sight of white skin marred by crimson blood.
“Goodness. Did I appear so fragile that you imagined something so absurd?”
No, something about this didn’t feel right.
Luck alone couldn’t explain this.
Ersivan let out a low, amused laugh as Diana blinked at him in disbelief.
“…What?”
“Why do you look so relieved? Don’t tell me—you were actually hoping I’d be wounded?”
“No! That’s not it at all—!”
She barely managed a response, her voice faltering.
Then, looking down at her sword, she examined it carefully.
Had he swapped it for a toy sword instead of a real one?
Just as she reached out to touch the blade, Ersivan interrupted.
“I wouldn’t recommend that. If Lily touches it, she’ll get hurt.”
So, he can touch it, but I can’t?
Diana stared at him, baffled, alternating her gaze between him and the sword.
“This kind of blade doesn’t leave a scratch on me.”
“Are you made of stone or something?”
“If you’re truly curious, would you like to test it yourself?”
“I’ll pass.”
Ersivan made a teasing motion as if to lift his shirt.
Instinctively, Diana shut her eyes and frantically waved her hands in protest.
She did not want to relive the sight of a half-dressed Ersivan.
Especially not in broad daylight, where her inevitable blush would be painfully obvious.
A moment later, laughter rang through the darkness behind her closed eyelids.
Cautiously peeking through them, she confirmed that he was, in fact, still fully clothed.
“…You seem rather amused.”
“Of course. You’ve become one of the joys of my life.”
“Can we move on with the lesson?”
“If that’s what you wish, then by all means.”
Still smiling, he bent down and picked up his sword from where it had fallen to the ground.
