Chapter 14
“Grip the hilt firmly, then strike downward.”
“What about the direction?”
“For now, aim downward.”
Ersivan demonstrated the movement first. The way he held his sword and swung it with precision made it look like a seamless motion from a martial performance.
After cutting through the air with unwavering focus, he ran a hand through his slightly tousled hair—making it seem as if the two actions were part of a single fluid sequence.
Like an audience member watching a play, Diana found herself simply observing. That is, until Ersivan motioned for her to follow suit.
“Like this…?”
She gripped the sword tightly and swung it downward.
“Again.”
His expression remained unreadable as he requested she repeat the movement.
Feeling the pressure, Diana put more strength into the next strike.
“Again.”
Still, the same word.
“Again.”
“…”
“Again.”
“…”
“Try again.”
Her arms were starting to go numb. The sword, already heavy, felt even weightier with each downward swing, as though it were fighting against the air itself.
Despite the cool evening breeze settling in, sweat trickled down her face. She barely had the chance to wipe it away, so she shrugged her shoulders to dab at her damp forehead.
Just as she finished another strike, Ersivan opened his mouth to speak again.
Diana, predicting what he was about to say, hurriedly cut him off.
“Instead of telling me to repeat it over and over, could you just point out what I’m doing wrong? I can’t even tell where the mistake is! If I keep practicing incorrectly, isn’t that just a waste of time?”
“You seem to be misunderstanding me. I was actually about to say that you have a natural talent for this.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes. You could probably cut through a flower with ease.”
“…”
“I’m joking. But the compliment was sincere. You have more potential than I expected.”
From Ersivan’s perspective, her skills were, frankly, atrocious.
To be perfectly honest, he had probably been better with a sword at the age of a toddler than she was now.
However, there was no benefit in crushing her confidence.
With a capable teacher like himself, she would improve with effort.
She might not become the best, but at the very least, he would make her competent.
From then on, Ersivan carefully corrected her posture and thoroughly explained the theory behind each movement.
Fortunately, Diana found the lesson enjoyable.
And just when things began to feel tedious, he would share amusing anecdotes, keeping her entertained.
Before long, their well-earned break arrived.
Diana replenished herself with the water he had prepared, soothing her throat that had gone dry from exertion.
“Was it too exhausting?”
Ersivan approached as she rested, wiping away the sweat from her forehead.
“I’m fine. It’s actually more fun than I expected.”
“Naturally. You have an excellent instructor.”
“I hate to admit it, but I’ll give you that one.”
Diana loosened her hair tie to fix her hair, flashing him a bright smile.
Her now loosely cascading hair made her appear even more refreshingly radiant.
Ersivan, still holding the handkerchief, briefly paused before continuing the conversation.
“You’re surprisingly agreeable today.”
“Aren’t you going to at least pretend to be moved?”
“I already am.”
He said this with a completely indifferent expression, but his tone was nothing short of confident.
That was just so Ersivan Valencia.
“I’ve been meaning to ask—what’s the purpose behind these lessons? The subjects seem a little unusual.”
“You’re curious about the reasoning?”
“Well, they’re quite different from the typical lessons meant for a duchess-in-training.”
“You seem to be mistaken. That was never the intention.”
“…Never?”
“Of course not. What’s the point of wasting time on something so trivial?”
Ersivan scoffed, as if the mere thought of it was exhausting.
“But I’ll be your second face, won’t I? Everything I do will be a reflection of you—”
“I can’t help but wonder what kind of disaster you’re planning if you’re saying something like that. Just keep it within a level I can manage, will you?”
“That’s… not what I meant.”
Diana scratched her cheek awkwardly, realizing that her words had been misinterpreted.
But still… did that mean some level of mischief was permissible?
Finding the idea rather intriguing, she casually prodded him.
“Then, what exactly are the limits of ‘that level’ you mentioned?”
“I knew it. You are planning something.”
“…No, I was just asking. I swear, no ulterior motives.”
“As long as you don’t get summoned to the imperial palace for it. No—rather, as long as you don’t end up on trial, it should be fine. For example, as long as you don’t go around murdering noble ladies or young lords you don’t like.”
That was… quite the extreme example.
Did he genuinely believe her capable of committing murder?
“I think I’ve heard enough. I have a rough idea of where your ‘limits’ lie now.”
So, minor blunders at a banquet, an accidental spilled drink, a stray inappropriate comment—those kinds of things were completely manageable, apparently.
…Though it might be slightly unsightly.
“In any case, you don’t have to try so hard to meet expectations. There’s no need to waste your energy on something unnecessary.”
His words washed away an old burden she had carried for quite some time.
She had never expected someone raised in the imperial court—a man whose very bones were steeped in nobility—to be so indifferent toward matters of prestige.
Before she even realized it, she found herself nodding in agreement, even extending her pinky as if sealing a promise.
“So, what was the reasoning behind the lesson choices?”
Her curiosity was boundless.
And somehow, she had a knack for asking precisely the questions he least wanted to answer.
With a barely concealed sigh, Ersivan finally responded.
“You need to be able to take care of yourself. In an emergency, you should be capable of riding a horse alone and defending yourself. At the very least, you should know how to survive.”
Ersivan shifted his gaze slightly to the side.
Beyond his vacant stare into the air, the confidence that usually resided in his eyes was absent.
“The Duchess seems to be frequently exposed to death.”
Diana recalled the original novel.
Come to think of it, there had been several incidents involving Lillian.
For instance, she had been kidnapped by assailants, repeatedly placed in life-threatening situations…
It was, undeniably, a precarious position to be in.
“…That’s right.”
Ersivan finally spoke, though with some difficulty.
However, he refrained from mentioning that it wasn’t merely because she was the duchess.
Rather, it was because she was standing beside him.
‘But wouldn’t her death be a relief?’
Right now, Lillian was his intended target for revenge.
If she died without him having to stain his own hands with blood, shouldn’t that be a cause for gratitude?
Diana couldn’t understand why he was preparing countermeasures to ensure her survival.
‘Is it something like—She can’t die by anyone else’s hands but mine?’
A rather terrifying thought.
Then again, perhaps it was only natural that he wouldn’t want someone else taking away his designated target for revenge.
“Don’t worry too much. Such incidents won’t happen. This is merely a precaution.”
Perhaps mistaking her silence for fear, he added an unnecessary reassurance.
“I’m not worried.”
As she responded, she attempted to meet his gaze.
But for some reason, his eyes were focused elsewhere.
She tried multiple times, adjusting her angle, but he refused to meet her gaze.
Only then did she realize—he was actively avoiding her eyes.
Where was that sly, calculating fox now?
He looked more like a rain-soaked beast, utterly dejected.
“…Don’t look at me.”
His voice was careful, almost petulant, as if he was uncomfortable under her unwavering stare.
But this time, Diana was the one acting willfully.
“I was taught that it’s proper etiquette to look someone in the eye when speaking to them.”
“To hell with etiquette. You won’t die just because you ignore it.”
“No. It’s important to me.”
With an air of resignation, he finally parted his fingers, peeking at her through the gap before eventually lowering his hand.
“As you already know, this is purely for precaution.”
“I know. You’ll protect me with all your might, won’t you?”
Was it because she had been spending too much time around him?
Those words slipped from her mouth effortlessly—an empty pleasantry coated in sweetness.
She was well aware that she was lucky enough not to be his direct target.
Yet here she was, speaking as if she could place unwavering trust in him.
“Yes. I swear it.”
“…”
“I will honor your faith in me.”
Yet, strangely, his voice was resolute.
So firm that even she found herself confused.
Should she believe it? Or dismiss it?
The uncertainty left no room for relief.
“Shall we end the lesson here? The sun is setting. You should return, rest, and prepare for dinner.”
“Already?”
“There is plenty of time.”
He had said rest.
Which meant… he intended to continue these lessons.
Diana, sensing a shift in his demeanor, hesitated.
Should she attempt to comfort him?
Or would it be better to let it go?
Offering him ill-fitting words of consolation might backfire, so perhaps it was safer to feign ignorance.
As she deliberated, she suddenly reached for his wrist.
Ersivan, who had been about to leave, halted in place.
“Evan, would you like to take a walk?”
In times like these, warmth was the best approach.
Even if he seemed indifferent, doing something was always better than doing nothing.
“…A walk?”
“The weather is nice today. I thought we could visit the garden.”
“Very well.”
Just as she began to second-guess herself, his agreement came unexpectedly.
“I’ll pack up first.”
Ersivan gathered the training equipment, setting everything in order before rising from his seat.
“Shall we go?”
As Diana took the lead, Ersivan watched her from behind, his expression unreadable.
And then, a quiet thought surfaced in his mind.
Soft-hearted people are easy to manage.
