The Brave Man, Considered a Love Rival

“Ohoho~ May I come in and have a little chat?” The girl, appearing a year or two older than Syldra, covered her smiling mouth with one hand. Her thick lashes narrowed into crescents as she laughed, long, pale-golden hair swaying gently with the motion.

Syldra snapped out of her shock and quickly signaled Rosetta to invite the girl inside.

The girl gave a light wave to the attendant, who quietly closed the door behind her.

Before Syldra could speak, the girl began.

“Let me introduce myself—I am Wylding-Lakazet, daughter of the Duke of Wylding.” She delicately lifted the corner of her ivory gown in a small curtsy. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Lentiya-Syldra.”

Syldra’s brow twitched.

The woman who had slapped Samael during their nighttime meeting… was the daughter of the Wylding family?

…… Could it be that Samael specifically targeted Wylding later—destroying the entire duchy—because she slapped him?

Syldra imagined a grinning Samael dragging a bound Lakazet before him, sneering coldly: “You dared strike me then? Now I return it a hundredfold—hahahaha!”

...Actually kind of ridiculous.

“It’s an honor to meet you too, Sister Lakazet.” Syldra reached out instinctively—but suddenly realized the faux pas, hastily withdrew her hand, and mimicked Lakazet’s gesture, lifting her own dress hem in an awkward curtsy.

“Hehe~” Lakazet chuckled at Syldra’s clumsy attempt.

What’s so funny?! It’s not like I do this every day! Syldra fumed inwardly.

“…… Father has spoken often of the Duke of Lentiya’s daughter—saying she was breathtakingly beautiful. Today, I see he wasn’t exaggerating at all,” Lakazet said gracefully as she glided forward, adjusted her gown, and sat neatly on Syldra’s bed. The moment her luxurious figure settled onto the mattress, a powerful wave of perfume rushed over Syldra.

“Sister Lakazet flatters me,” Syldra managed, fighting the urge to sneeze, forcing a polite smile.

After praising her, Lakazet studied Syldra with an unreadable expression—smiling faintly, eyes scanning up and down.

Ugh. Syldra shivered.

How long had it been since she’d experienced this kind of naked, aristocratic scrutiny? She wasn’t used to it anymore.

“Sister Lakazet, did you come to see me for something before the banquet?” Syldra asked, unnerved by the gaze.

“Ah~ Nothing in particular?” Lakazet smiled. “To be honest, Miss ‘Lentiya,’ I’ve wanted to meet you for quite some time.”

“I simply came ahead of the banquet to say hello and have a little chat.”

She deliberately called her “Lentiya,” not “Syldra.”

Syldra met her gaze.

The golden-haired girl’s lips curled slightly. Her pale-gold eyes caught the warm orange glow of the evening sky, reflecting it as she stared silently.

There was no warmth in them.

This visitor means no good.

“—Rosetta, could you go to the front desk and get me a sewing kit?” Syldra suddenly said.

“Huh? Miss, but we already have our o—”

“No, we don’t,” Syldra cut in, giving Rosetta a sharp look filled with meaning.

“Oh! Oh—right! I’ll go right away, Miss!”

“And hurry, Rosetta—we’re expected at the Duke of Wylding’s banquet on the 10th floor soon.”

“Yes, Miss!” Rosetta took the cue, bowed, and left, closing the door behind her.

Once her footsteps faded, Lakazet shifted slightly. “Is it alright, Miss Lentiya? Are you mending something? If you’d like, I can send my attendant to help…”

“It’s fine, Sister Lakazet. Rosetta will handle it,” Syldra deflected smoothly, then locked eyes with her.

Now. Say what you came to say.

Lakazet blinked, then laughed softly. “Hehe, Miss Lentiya—you’re truly sharp as ice.”

“Sister Lakazet, is there a message from your father to mine?”

Lakazet didn’t answer immediately. After a pause, she spoke.

“—Miss Lentiya, if I recall correctly, you’re fourteen now, yes?”

“Yes, Sister Lakazet.”

“And you haven’t chosen a fiancé yet?”

Syldra’s eye twitched.

“…… I’m only fourteen, Sister.”

“—I see.” Lakazet gazed down at Syldra, who sat on a chair beside the bed, half a head shorter. Her voice turned soft, almost mournful.

“At noon today, near the staircase on the first floor—did you happen to collide with a man with black hair and crimson eyes?”

Hm?

Syldra froze, startled.

Why bring up Samael? What’s her angle?

“…… I didn’t collide with him. I slipped, and he happened to be passing by—he just helped me up,” Syldra replied carefully, choosing her words precisely.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Lakazet said, placing a hand to her chest. “So many people saw it—I was so worried about you.”

“If the Lentiya heiress got injured in Wylding’s guesthouse, it would be terrible for our families’ relations.” She sighed dramatically, then clasped Syldra’s hand. “But now I’m relieved~ Everything’s fine.”

Relieved? Then why do I feel like that’s not what you were really after?

Syldra forced a smile, her jaw tightening at the cold touch of Lakazet’s hand.

“Speaking of that incident, Miss Lentiya—do you know who that man is?” Lakazet suddenly leaned in, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

“Hmm? He introduced himself after helping me. I know he’s from the Duchy of Camille, but I’ve never been there, nor met anyone from his country… He’s the first Camillian I’ve ever known,” Syldra explained.

“—Ah, I see. So it was just a simple accident.” Lakazet patted her chest, as if a great burden had been lifted. The atmosphere instantly warmed.

“That’s good. I was afraid it might be the worst-case scenario—that you were a rival. If you were my rival, well… I couldn’t possibly win against someone like you, Miss Lentiya. And I wouldn’t want any ill will between us noble daughters, would I?”

…… What in the world is that supposed to mean?

Even though Syldra was used to aristocratic double-talk, this conversation was beyond cryptic.

She had no idea what the woman was really trying to say.

Her mind was glitching.

Seemingly satisfied with whatever information she’d confirmed, Lakazet relaxed, stroking Syldra’s hand like a caring elder sister.

“Miss Lentiya, we’re around the same age, and Wylding and Lentiya are old allies. So let me give you some sisterly advice.”

“As daughters of noble houses, we must protect our reputations in public—and cultivate proper virtue. We mustn’t be seen being affectionate with unfamiliar men in public, especially not where others can see. If you must express such feelings, wait until you’re married—then you can do as you please behind closed doors.”

Out of nowhere, she dropped this bizarre statement.

“Ah… Sister speaks wisely. Though I don’t have a husband yet…” Syldra replied stiffly.

“And even if the man is familiar, if he’s already betrothed or married, you especially must avoid entanglement. You don’t want to give others ammunition, do you, Miss Lentiya?”

“Betrothed? Married? Him?!” Syldra blurted, shocked.

“I’m just giving an example, Miss Lentiya,” Lakazet laughed, squeezing her hand.

“Ah—ah, I see.” Syldra exhaled, relaxing slightly.

“But… he is about to become betrothed,” Lakazet added casually.

Syldra’s head snapped toward her. A chilling premonition surged through her.

“In two days, during the main banquet,” Lakazet announced, eyes sparkling with pride, “my father will announce my engagement to him! Then, I’ll propose to him on the spot—we’ll pledge our vows before dozens of honored guests! The Duchy of Wylding and the Duchy of Camille will form a political marriage! This hasn’t been revealed yet—it’s the secret surprise of the anniversary celebration!”

———— Huh?!

Political marriage! When heirs of two noble houses wed, it’s called a political alliance through marriage!

Syldra swallowed hard, a sudden dryness in her throat.

Samael is the heir of the Duchy of Camille.

He’s engaged to the daughter of the House of Wylding.

Then the Duchy of Camille falls. Two years later, the war begins. The Demon King leads his army—and specifically targets and destroys the Duchy of Wylding.

Holy Father…

A horrifying theory formed in Syldra’s mind.