Love at First Sight

“The Holy Sword Family’s… Second Young Master?”

Loya glanced over.

The man on horseback appeared to be in his early twenties, slightly taller than Loya himself, with white hair and blue eyes, looking like a protagonist straight out of A Song of Ice and Fire. One couldn’t help but immediately think of the term “Prince Charming.”

(So he’s Mosolen…)

One had to admit, the bloodlines of the noble families in this different world were good.

The upper class not only had high status but also appealing looks. Everyone was handsome or beautiful.

This particular brand of noble young man, with a touch of heroic, imposing aura, was enough to make the eyes of the common girls on the street shine even as they witnessed his arrogance.

‘Damn it, is everyone riding a white horse a prince? He might as well be Tang Sanzang’—in any case, Loya saw him as nothing more than a standard playboy.

He wasn’t even half as strong as his sister, but he acted like he was more important than the King of Knights.

Upon making eye contact, Mosolen sized Loya up and down.

Seeing that Loya’s expression was calm, and that he not only didn’t kneel but dared to meet his gaze, Mosolen’s expression immediately darkened.

For a noble, insufficient reverence was tantamount to humiliation.

Mosolen’s face immediately turned dark.

“You insolent fool—”

Just as he was about to rebuke him, he suddenly noticed a bright, golden-yellow flash in his field of vision.

It was only then that he realized there was an elf girl standing beside the young man.

Florence was an open city. Although the Layasian Theocracy was one of the most accepting countries towards other races among human nations, elves, dwarves, and demi-humans were not uncommon.

However, the golden-haired, twin-tailed elf girl before him really caught his eye.

The large, black-rimmed glasses on her delicate nose accentuated her charming features.

The sorcerer’s robes were loose and ill-fitting, but they only emphasized her petite and delicate figure.

Most importantly—that flat-as-a-board chest.

Being an elf with pointed ears was much better than those succubi in the Pleasure Quarter.

Mosolen had long since grown tired of those cookie-cutter, big-breasted, wide-hipped types.

Elf lolis; that was what the Second Young Master liked.

As he was wondering where this elf had come from, looking so lively, he snapped back to reality.

Well, the elf was leaning delicately on someone else’s shoulder.

The anger that had just been somewhat calmed by the beauty was immediately doused with a layer of jealousy.

“You’re blocking the horse path and startling my horse! Don’t you know to apologize?!”

Loya glanced around.

It was true that they were preparing to cross the street, but they were far from blocking the horse path.

It was clear that the other party was being unreasonable.

However, that was just how nobles were.

Even if they were in the wrong, if their mistake was witnessed, they would force the victim to apologize in order to shift the blame and save face.

It was nothing more than that.

In the interest of avoiding trouble, Loya softened his tone slightly and spoke.

“We are very sorry. We were not careful enough when crossing the road and inconvenienced you.”

If it weren’t for the fact that he still had to deal with the Holy Sword Family later and didn’t want to ruin the relationship, he would have done more than startled his horse. Sharking his horse wouldn’t even be a problem.

However, backing down didn’t make things simple.

The surrounding attendants began to jeer.

“Is that all the apology we get?”

“There’s no sincerity at all!”

“Kneel! Do you know to kneel?”

Listening to these contemptible sounds, which were like mosquitoes buzzing before bed, Loya sighed.

However, he didn’t speak again. Instead, he took a small step back.

With a tacit understanding, Timothée stepped forward at just the right moment.

“You can’t bully Teacher like this! It’s obviously your fault.

Everyone saw you riding your horses into the crowded market, rampaging recklessly and disregarding others.”

Watching the elf girl bravely step forward to speak fairly, the surrounding people, though not daring to voice their support, nodded frequently.

‘So righteous?’

Mosolen’s eyes lit up.

Weak and frail, yet daring to stand up against the Second Young Master.

Refined and cultured, yet possessing a sense of justice, just like his violent older sister, who always repeated “The sword in a knight’s hand is for protection.”

Her self-righteous appearance was very cute.

More importantly, she referred to the man behind her as “Teacher.”

At the very least, she didn’t call him her lover or boyfriend, right?

Didn’t that mean that Young Master still had a chance?

“—And you, if you truly uphold the name of the Holy Sword Family, you should have the spirit and morality of a knight!”

Timothée turned her gaze, shifting the target of her rebuke to Mosolen.

“Me?”

“Teacher used to say that the sword in a knight’s hand is not to seek rights above anyone else, but to protect what they cherish.”

Looking at the righteously indignant elf girl, Mosolen was stunned.

How could he hear the exact same lines here?

“I believe, if the King of Knights were here, he certainly wouldn’t approve of his family doing this!”

In just a few words, Mosolen was completely silenced.

Like a prisoner on the battlefield.

However, he wasn’t won over with words.

He was captivated by her special charm.

He was experiencing what they called love at first sight.

The attendants, seeing that their master wasn’t speaking, realized that it was a good time to help him save face and curry favor, and prepared to refute her.

“You’re just a lowly commoner, what are you even saying—”

Before he could finish speaking, a whip cracked, and the one who was babbling was struck to the ground.

The surrounding crowd was shocked.

“Shut up, it’s not your place to speak.”

Mosolen coldly reprimanded his subordinates, and when he raised his head again, his gaze was much gentler.

Of course, this was when he was looking at Timothée.

“This lady, what you said does make sense. Let’s say the responsibility is four-six—no, five-five. Let’s split it equally between us.”

Loya chuckled; he really didn’t know whether this person was thick-skinned or thin-skinned.

However, he was somewhat surprised.

Maybe this kid wasn’t completely an unreasonable and uncommunicative playboy?

Timothée was secretly dissatisfied with the transformation of this noble young master before her eyes.

‘Wait, shouldn’t I have been hit in a fit of rage after you got lectured for standing up for Teacher?!’

‘You bunch of idiots were supposed to be the setup for Teacher’s heroic rescue!’

‘Why are you only showing your magnanimity now? What a pathetic performance; even extras are better than this!’

Of course, this dissatisfaction didn’t show on her face.

Meeting the elf girl’s lively, verdant eyes, Mosolen dismounted his horse with a flourish.

He approached her and came to a stop in front of Timothée.

“In any case, beautiful elf lady, I, Mosolen Ignivel, extend my sincere apologies to you.

And I am very grateful for your reminder just now.”

His slight bow combined refinement and grace, completely different from the Second Young Master who had been yelling about “lowly commoners” just moments before.

Timothée was slightly touched by this sincerity.

‘Ugh! How disgusting!’

She stepped back as if she had stepped on something sticky, like a little girl encountering a creepy uncle, and hurriedly hid behind her teacher.