The brave man is determined to stop the marriage

How did Rosetta know I was here?

A small question, quickly dismissed. Syldra stood and walked to the door. The moment it opened, Rosetta’s worried face came into view.

The instant she saw Syldra, the young maid’s expression brightened—then immediately shifted to caution as she peeked past Syldra into the room. She leaned in, whispering against Syldra’s ear:

“Are you alright, Miss?”

Huh? What could possibly be wrong?

Syldra stared at her, baffled, then whispered back, “How did you know I was here?”

“When you said you wanted to go up to the rooftop, I followed your gaze,” Rosetta explained, pointing past Syldra into the room.

Syldra turned—and saw Samael, now asleep by the bed.

The young man had apparently dozed off during their quiet conversation, still sitting upright, one hand propping his chin.

“You were looking at him when you said it,” Rosetta continued softly. “So I guessed you went out to meet him.”

“I remembered he said to come to the VIP suite on the 13th floor if I needed him—so I came looking.” She lowered her voice further. “…… Did you finish talking?”

Syldra’s eyes widened slightly.

“How do you know what I was talking about, Rosetta?”

“How would I know, Miss?” Rosetta gave her a flat look. “But if you went out without telling me, that means whatever you discussed isn’t meant for my ears.”

“So of course I wouldn’t ask.”

That’s my Rosetta, Syldra thought.

Personal attendants to noble heirs often accompanied them to banquets—Rosetta was no exception.

She’d simply forgotten how sharp Rosetta had always been—how naturally she read between the lines.

But… was this talk truly over?

Syldra frowned.

The conversation hadn’t yielded much tangible progress. It confirmed Wylding’s engagement scheme was likely a setup—but beyond shaking her assumptions and giving her a sliver of insight into Samael, it offered little else.

If anything, the greatest gain was understanding Samael himself a little better.

She glanced back at the sleeping youth.

Just a teenager—arrogant, capable of detecting emotions, skilled at tea-making, heir to Camille. Otherwise, nothing extraordinary.

She studied his peaceful, faintly melancholic face.

Images of her fellow Heroes flashed through her mind.
Then, the vision of the world falling beneath the Demon King’s flames.

——Since I’ve met you fifteen years before your war begins…

I won’t let that future happen again.

Not on my watch.

“Miss Syldra…” Rosetta whispered, noticing her silence. “The banquet on the tenth floor seems nearly over.”

“When I came up, I saw many guests already leaving.”

An unspoken warning: Stay longer, and someone will see you.

They couldn’t afford to be caught—Lentiya’s representative, secretly meeting Camille’s heir.

“…… Rosetta, let’s return to our room.”

“Miss… are we just leaving him like this?” Rosetta gestured toward Samael.

Syldra hesitated, then stepped quietly to Samael’s side. She reached for the heavy robe hanging from the bedpost, intending to drape it over him.

But the robe was too long.

“—!” As she approached, her foot caught the hem. Off-balance, she stumbled forward—rope and all—crashing straight into Samael’s lap.

“—Miss!” Rosetta gasped in a hushed panic.

“…… Hm?”

Samael’s eyes fluttered open.

Flustered, Syldra found herself staring directly into his crimson gaze.

Then—he smiled. A slow, smug, utterly self-satisfied smile.

“—I knew it. No woman could resist a man as exceptional as myself.”

Holy Father above! I tripped, you insufferable narcissist!

Syldra nearly screamed it aloud.

Of all the shameless nobles she’d ever met, none compared to this man—

This peak of self-delusion!
This mountain of unearned superiority!

Objectively speaking, yes, his tea was delicious—but—

“Even so, Lady Lentiya, such an aggressive advance is highly inappropriate.”

“I was just trying to cover you with—!”

“No need to explain, Lady Lentiya. I understand completely. As long as you don’t commit any true indiscretion, all is forgiven.”

I’ll shove my boot so far up your—!

Syldra fumed internally.

Samael, ever the gentleman, grasped only the fabric of her sleeve—never her skin—and gracefully helped her up.

Only then did he notice the girl standing at the door.

“Oh. Isn’t this… Lady Lentiya’s attendant?” He glanced at Rosetta, then returned his stern gaze to Syldra. “Lady Lentiya, surely you aren’t using your servant as a lookout… so you may engage in improper conduct?”

He frowned deeply, eyes filled with righteous disapproval.

“Even within Wylding territory, foreign representatives should not be subjected to such liberties by a Lentiya heir. That would be utterly absurd.”

“And you call that absurd?!” Syldra snapped, finally losing patience with his delusional logic.

“Miss, Miss…” Rosetta rushed to her side, whispering urgently. “You’re being too loud!”

“Rosetta, back to the room—now!” Syldra growled, storming out.

She didn’t look back, marching down the corridor with Rosetta scrambling after her.

“Miss… please calm down…” The maid tried to soothe her furious mistress, who had long abandoned noble composure, hurrying down the guesthouse stairs in near-flight.

It wasn’t just that Samael’s arrogance annoyed her.

She’d seen every kind of noble. She understood.

A man born into privilege, even at his most extreme, was merely a pitiful fool—a harmless mediocrity.

Frankly, no one wasted energy resenting an irrelevant nobody.

…… But the greater Samael’s pride now, the deeper the fall of the Demon King he would become.

She knew the types.

The wicked, driven by hunger for power—when their crown falls, they crumble to dust.
The kind, striving for good—when they die, their legacy fades with those they helped.
The mediocre, living for comfort—born, live, die, forgotten. They shape nothing.

Samael should have been one of these—vanishing quietly from Camille’s records, leaving no mark.

Yet this ordinary man—neither hated nor pitied—lost his nation to a rule that allowed the weak no right to refuse.

And so he became the Demon King. And so he destroyed the world.

It shouldn’t have been like this.

That was why she was angry.

——Duke of Wylding. Lakazet of Wylding.

If this engagement was Camille’s first undeserved tragedy…
If Samael sought to overturn the cruel “law” that crushed him—the idea that the weak must obey—by waging war on the world…

…… Then I will stop this union.
I will prevent that despair.

Two days from now—we’ll see who wins.

“Miss. Miss.” Rosetta’s odd tone broke through her fiery thoughts.

“…… What is it, Rosetta?”

“That is… Miss… you and that gentleman didn’t do anything, right—”

“—Holy Father above, Rosetta! What are you implying?!”