Chapter 17
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Chapter 17
'I'd be incredibly irritated if I were him, but he's handling this remarkably well.'
I ran my fingers through my disheveled blonde hair and sat up, reaching for the appointment letter. As the words came into focus, my emotions grew complicated. Combined with meeting Yurien de Harden Kirie last night and the dreams I'd had all evening, the turmoil only deepened. I folded the letter carelessly and shoved it into a drawer.
I couldn't quite remember how I'd made it back to the Dormitory last night or fallen asleep. One thing was certain—I hadn't been in my right mind.
If Yurien de Harden Kirie retained his memories, he would have no choice but to despise me. I had betrayed his trust, annihilated his foundation, and killed him.
Because of the Demonic Sword? That was merely my perspective. Could a person's family or lover forgive me after I'd taken their life, simply because I said it was the Demonic Sword's fault, that I was sorry? Could they look at me, drenched in the blood of someone they loved, and say it was unavoidable because of the Demonic Sword, that I bore no guilt? Could they stand before me—the one who murdered someone precious to them—and smile?
If that were possible, they wouldn't be human. They'd be a saint.
So why was Yurien de Harden Kirie displaying such an incomprehensible attitude? It was more rational to believe there was another reason than to assume he was a saint capable of smiling after recognizing the woman who'd killed him.
Either he had no memories. Or, even if he did, he wasn't certain that I was the Demonic Sword's vessel.
'The Emperor's birthday gala...'
If he had no memories, the probability was high that I'd done something to capture his attention at last year's imperial birthday celebration. He'd said he'd seen me then. The problem was that for me, that event was more than fifteen years in the past.
I'd seen Yurien de Harden Kirie, but I was certain we'd never crossed paths or spoken. So had I done something noteworthy without realizing it? No matter how much I tried to recall, nothing came to mind.
'I don't know. Damn it.'
I rose from my seat and opened my wardrobe. As I retrieved a dress to wear, I considered another possibility. What if he retained his memories but didn't know I was the Demonic Sword's vessel?
'He could suspect me. A cadet who didn't exist in his erased past has appeared. But he couldn't be certain. My identity is clear, and there's no evidence.'
I stared at my right hand, wrapped in silk gloves. Beneath it lay irrefutable proof. I clenched my palm and pulled out a corset and petticoat, tossing them onto the bed.
'If he has his memories but is simply watching me because there's no evidence. If he suspects me of being the Demonic Sword's vessel, uncertain when I might strike next.'
I let out a bitter laugh. I retrieved my jewelry box and muttered to myself.
"He'd keep me close... and watch me. Until he finds evidence he can be certain of."
[Why are you suddenly saying that?]
"I think I understand why Yurien de Harden Kirie appointed me as his squire."
[What? You're saying he made you his squire to keep tabs on you?]
"It's just one possibility."
Was the duel also to gain certainty? Once he became certain I was the Demonic Sword's vessel, what would he do? At the very least, he wouldn't smile like he did yesterday. My chest ached. I caught sight of the cloak folded on top of the drawer—the one Yurien de Harden Kirie had draped over me. I stared at it uneasily, then pushed it deep into the drawer where it wouldn't be seen.
Either way, there was only one thing I could do now. Appear as nothing but 'Echinacea Loaz'—someone who couldn't possibly be the Demonic Sword's vessel. I began dressing with purpose.
Dressing alone without Nora wasn't easy. The corset was particularly difficult. It wasn't designed to be put on by oneself, so there was no helping it. I used mana to pull and tie the laces at my back with precision that would have astounded the Masters.
After the corset, I put on stockings and fastened a garter belt to secure them. I donned the petticoat and slipped into a pale yellow dress with abundant ruffles. I brushed my hair and pinned it in a half-up style with ornaments adorned with ribbons and jewels. I applied makeup, fastened earrings and a necklace, and slipped on high-heeled shoes.
Though tedious, the process was enjoyable in its own way. Watching myself grow progressively more beautiful in the mirror was a pleasant experience.
Finally, I removed the silk gloves and put on embroidered gloves that matched the dress. The pattern on my palm—a mark that filled me with caution every time I saw it—was now hidden beneath the golden embroidery.
For a noblewoman dressing alone, I'd finished remarkably quickly, yet it had still taken considerable time. It was nearly nine o'clock.
I picked up the longsword I'd left untended and neglected since yesterday's duel, and left my room. I had no concept of treating a blade with care. I didn't even like swords, and if one broke, I could simply buy another.
East Training Ground 4 of Main Building was little more than a small clearing. The high stone walls and a simple pavilion-like structure on one side suggested it was designed to accommodate both training and discussion simultaneously.
Ian Peletro was waiting for me on a bench inside the pavilion. He wasn't alone. A man with reddish-brown hair sat across from him. As I entered, Ian smiled and waved.
"Welcome, Cadet Echinacea."
Now that I understood what kind of person he was, that smile felt deeply unsettling. Come to think of it, even if an announcement would be posted soon, discussing the squire appointment in the Common Dining Hall packed with cadets, and deliberately mentioning the time and place of the duel there, seemed suspicious.
'There's nothing I can do about it now, so I'll just be cautious when dealing with him going forward.'
I clicked my tongue inwardly and offered a greeting.
"Good morning, Senior."
"Yes, did you sleep well? Oh, this is Cadet Bred von Poum, a third-year. Introduce yourself."
"I'm Echinacea Loaz, Senior Bred."
Ian introduced the man who had been standing before me. The man's gaze swept over Echinacea from head to toe, and he smiled with a viscous, unsettling quality.
"Quite pretty, actually. Don't worry—I'll teach you well."
His smile was uncomfortable, and his words were equally so. When Echinacea's brow furrowed, Ian's expression shifted to something apologetic.
"I'm supposed to conduct the preliminary training myself, but I'm afraid I won't have time today, so I called Bred instead. Since Bred von Poum has considerable experience as a temporary squire, he'll guide you well."
"...Yes."
An ominous premonition settled over me. Ian offered his characteristic good-natured smile and gave my shoulder a familiar pat.
"Then I'll see you later. I need to go."
After he left, only she and Bred von Poum remained in the Training Grounds. Bred von Poum sat with an awkward posture, arms crossed, studying her before he opened his mouth.
"So you're becoming an official squire in a month. The timeline is tight."
"Thank you for your guidance."
"For today, you're my squire. You'll attend to my needs."
"...Yes, senior."
"You should call me Lord. It's basic protocol."
Squires addressed the knights they served as Lord—an excessive title to use toward a cadet who wasn't yet a knight. Moreover, the way he looked at her was distinctly unctuous. I barely managed to suppress the frown threatening to crease my brow and bowed my head obediently.
"Yes, Lord."
"Good. Now, massage my legs."
Bred von Poum leaned back against the bench and stretched his legs forward. I was momentarily stunned. While it was natural for a squire to attend to a knight, did such attendance include leg massages? A squire was, after all, a prospective knight—not a servant who did whatever was demanded.
"Massage your...legs?"
"Are you questioning the Lord's command? Do as I say."
"Wasn't what I agreed to begin today preliminary squire training?"
"That's exactly what you're doing—preliminary squire training. How dare you talk back?"
Bred von Poum's expression darkened with displeasure. The ominous premonition I'd felt earlier was becoming reality. Ian Peletro had deliberately left me with this man instead of conducting the training himself. I gritted my teeth and responded.
"Is leg massage really necessary training for a squire?"
"Stop talking and just do it! Are you refusing to be a squire?"
Bred von Poum suddenly shouted. I stood quietly, looking down at him, then asked coldly.
"How exactly should I massage them?"
"Do I have to explain every detail? Kneel down there, remove my boots, and massage. Oh, and take off your gloves—use your bare hands."
Bred von Poum gestured toward the floor beneath the bench with his chin, then smiled with a sickly quality.
"I'll give you customized training suited just for you. Be gentle about it."
"...Customized training?"
"Training tailored to what you're after. Isn't that why you became a cadet in the first place?"
"I'm not sure what purpose you're referring to."
"Playing innocent while swishing your skirts around? Do you think everyone else is stupid? We all know you're trying to land a knight and marry up. There's no other reason you'd dress yourself up like that for the men to see."
I didn't know where to begin refuting such logic. Marry a knight? Dressing up for men? It was such absurd nonsense that I'd never even considered it. I decided to see how far this would go and kept my mouth shut, watching him carefully. Bred von Poum's gaze swept across my chest.
"You have a good figure and a decent face, so it's a smart choice. Your entrance scores were impressive too, weren't they? Everyone figured it out after yesterday's duel. They wondered how someone with mediocre swordsmanship became top of the class, but apparently your performance in the second exam—the one against the quasi-knight—was overwhelming, which is why you ranked first?"
"..."
"Well, if you charmed even that monk-like Knight Instructor, a quasi-knight would've been easy. What did you do to seduce him into naming you as a squire on your very first day?"
"Such rumors are already circulating? In just one day?"
"It's obvious, isn't it? Quite the brilliant strategy, really—you even got the Knight Instructor wrapped around your finger. Even that aloof commander is just a man, after all. You were apparently attending to him at night even before enrollment? Once you're officially a squire, you can serve him openly now—how convenient. Your nights are going to be very hot indeed."
I laughed, utterly speechless.
During my time as the demon of the Demonic Sword, I heard every curse and insult one could accumulate in a lifetime. When I was gathering Giosha, I endured the mercenaries' crude banter and, as a noblewoman, obscenities that transcended imagination—all as casually as breathing. So I could have dismissed such drivel directed at me without much difficulty.
But this? This was different. It was far too vulgar. And worse, they'd dragged Yurien de Harden Kirie into it.
[Master, you're annoyed right now, aren't you? You're angry? Just kill them. It's simple, isn't it? Use me, come on?]
Bardegiosa, sensing my fury, erupted with excitement at the prospect. That very urging, paradoxically, calmed me.
I had never sought invisibility or a peaceful life from the start. If I was to become a Master at twenty-three, obscurity was impossible given my abilities alone. The persona I'd adopted from the beginning was that of an eccentric genius knight obsessed with wearing dresses—so remarks about my foul temperament and lack of respect for hierarchy were entirely acceptable additions. They were far preferable to that sordid rumor about becoming a squire through attending the captain's nighttime needs.
But acceptance and tolerance were separate matters. I had no intention of enduring this. I spoke softly.
"That's quite harsh language, senior."
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