Marin opened the study door and stepped inside, doing her very best to appear completely normal.
"Hello. Er... Lord Gerald."
"Why are you trying to return to formality again?"
She'd corrected herself quickly—but he'd noticed. She wanted to say, *Because I'm mortified beyond all reason*. But to avoid betraying herself further, she pivoted smoothly.
"How was your day?"
She crossed to the Duke's desk and retrieved a bowl of mandrelson grass.
"Do you remember yesterday?"
"I don't remember yesterday at all."
Marin squeezed her eyes shut and forced out the pre-prepared lie. *I can do this. Not a single word.*
"...Is that so?"
She squinted, stealing a glance at the Duke. He was leaning back in his chair, utterly relaxed.
"Yes."
With what she hoped was a calm expression, Marin draped the cloth over his eyes and placed the mandrelson compress on top.
"You asked how my day was? It was busy."
"Ah—you were busy. Many reports to review today?"
*Good. Natural. Keep going.*
Marin smiled to herself, nodding automatically.
"No. I spent the day training my chest."
"Ah, your chest..."
Up close, she could see the corners of his mouth curving upward.
*He hasn't even let me catch my breath and he's already started?!*
Gathering every scrap of composure she possessed, Marin answered as though nothing was amiss:
"Oh, you were... *ahem*... busy with your chest... *ahem*..."
"Someone kept touching it constantly."
"Ah, someone always, *ahem*, thr-*ahem*—ha—*ahem*—et, *ahem*, you—"
*I want to sit on the floor and cry.*
Was finishing a single sentence really this difficult? She forced the words out through sheer stubbornness.
*Well done, me.*
"I told them not to touch my chest anymore. But, you know—they don't listen."
The Duke's attacks continued mercilessly.
"When have I ever—! Oh, I mean... yes, of course."
Her eyes widened with indignation and her voice rose—before she forcibly cut herself off mid-sentence.
*That girl in the story is NOT me.*
"They even tried to unbutton my shirt..."
The Duke let the sentence trail off lazily.
Marin's knees buckled. She swayed and barely caught herself, clutching the edge of the desk for support.
*What is he doing? Turning me into some kind of pervert in the eyes of the world?!*
"So—just one button..."
"It's my fault."
Defeated.
Marin couldn't stand it any longer and interrupted him.
"What is?"
"I remember everything! And I never *once* tried to unbutton your shirt! You can't just make things up!"
She fanned her burning face furiously with her palm.
*Shame. Honest-to-goodness shame.*
The Duke burst out laughing.
"Stop laughing. The grass will fall off."
"Didn't you tell me that smiling suits me?"
"Yes—when there isn't grass covering your eyes."
The Duke smiled wordlessly.
*I'd like to slap those cheeky red lips and die happy.*
Marin pouted and pulled out a fairy tale book. Only one thing could save her now: put the Duke to sleep quickly and *flee*.
"I'm starting to read." She cleared her throat. "'Once upon a time, there lived a hare and a tortoise. They had a goal: to win the annual long-distance race. They often practiced together and trained hard. One day, the hare was running with all his might, so his chest was pounding...'"
"'Bunny,' said the tortoise. 'Your chest has, *ahem*, become, er, big.'"
Marin's voice faltered.
"'If you run for a long time and then take a deep breath, your chest will, *ahem*, get bigger.'"
"'Really?'"
"The tortoise took a deep breath."
"'And has my chest, *ahem*, become, er, big?'"
Her pupils shook as though struck by an earthquake.
"*Ha-ah*... Lord Gerald."
Marin slammed the book shut with a heavy, despairing sigh.
When she glanced down at the Duke, his chest was actually trembling—*heaving*—with suppressed laughter.
*Well, yes. Everything about him is big. Here and there.*
She looked away, vision blurring. Why were the curtains fluttering when there was no wind?
She clutched the book with both hands. She wanted to tear it to shreds.
She'd selected this particular story a *week* ago, never anticipating this catastrophe. Who could have known there would be so much discussion of *chests*?
"...Why?" The Duke's voice was barely restrained—laughter leaking through the cracks.
"I think I chose the wrong book. I'll go get another one."
Her tone was utterly resigned.
"Good idea." He was definitely smiling now. "I'll probably never sleep with this one."
"I think so too."
Marin's shoulders drooped as she trudged toward the door.
*Ha-ah. Life is bitter.*
The moment the door closed behind her, the Duke's laughter rang out—loud, unrestrained, thoroughly entertained.
*Well, yes. The male lead is supposed to laugh. People in general need to laugh.*
Marin tried to think positively, as though hypnotizing herself. But her eyes still filled with moisture.
---
## — The Training Yard, The Next Morning —
After warming up with a run, Marin arrived at the parade ground—and nearly gasped aloud.
Garnet's luxurious blonde hair had been cut short.
"Youngest Garnet? Your *hair*..."
"How do you like it?" Garnet ran her hand awkwardly over the back of her boyishly cropped head. "Does it suit me?"
Marin nodded immediately. It suited her *very* well.
But *why*?
"I'm going to become a knight. This haircut is a sign of my determination."
Garnet's smile was bright. Free.
"*What?*"
Marin's eyes went wide with surprise. The novel had only mentioned it in passing—*"learning fencing from the butler"*—so she hadn't realized Garnet harbored dreams of actual knighthood.
"Then I want to ask you something, Marin. As the eldest."
"Go ahead."
"Why do you train in a skirt?"
Marin trained daily in her most worn dress—the plainest thing she owned.
"I'm training for self-defense. So I practice in regular clothes—the kind I'd wear every day—so I can move naturally if I'm ever in danger."
"Ah, then it's time for me to practice in trousers."
"True. Good idea." Marin paused. "But do you really want to become a knight?"
"Yes." Garnet's voice was earnest—none of her usual caustic, haughty, catlike edge present. "Is it strange that a woman would become a knight?"
Marin smiled warmly and shook her head.
"Not at all. I'm *proud* that it was I who forged your first sword."
Garnet blinked in confusion.
Marin crossed to a tree at the edge of the parade ground where a long, leather-wrapped object leaned against the trunk. She carried it back and held it out.
"Would you like to unwrap it?"
Still slightly dazed, Garnet untied the leather straps.
"Ah..."
The covering fell away, revealing an ivory-colored scabbard adorned with a soft wave of gold dust. The white bone hilt held a stone she'd never seen before—a tangle of shifting colors, almost magical in its beauty.
Carefully, Garnet grasped the hilt and drew the blade.
It was so pure, so perfectly polished, that her own face stared back at her from the mirrored surface.
"...Why are you giving this to me?"
Her green eyes flickered with confusion.
"I wanted to give it to you as the eldest." Marin's voice was gentle. "Even though everyone here calls you the youngest, I wanted to befriend you, Lady Adria. So it's a bribe of sorts. Yes—a bribe."
Garnet carefully placed the sword back on the leather wrapping.
Then, impulsively, she threw her arms around Marin.
Garnet—a hand's breadth taller—buried her face in Marin's shoulder.
"Thank you. I'll cherish it for the rest of my life."
Marin gently patted the short hair at the back of her head.
*To cut off such beauty... she truly has serious determination.*
"You're welcome."
"Since when have you been on a first-name basis with the youngest again?"
Garnet transformed back into a prickly cat.
"You're welcome, *youngest* Garnet."
"Well, well—you two have a very sweet relationship, like senior and junior students." Yubis appeared seemingly from nowhere, scabbard slung over his shoulder. "But it's time to head to the parade ground."
"Understood."
Marin was the first to dash off.
Yubis looked at Garnet's cropped hair with something resembling pity.
"What? Does it look strange?"
"It was beautiful before. And it's still beautiful now, actually."
Garnet's eyes widened at his directness.
"What—is it weird that I'm speaking casually now?"
Garnet nodded, bewildered. Though she was more surprised by the words themselves.
"You want to become a knight? Since you're my junior, I'll speak casually from now on. Call me 'Senior.'" His eyes sparkled mischievously. "Besides, I have orders from His Lordship—so I'll be putting you through hell."
"Fine."
"Oh-ho. With a senior, you need to say: 'Yes, *Senior*.'"
"Yes. Understood, Senior."
Garnet recovered quickly. She'd have to claw her way up from the bottom.
"Good, Youngest. Starting today—twenty laps around the parade ground."
"*Yes!*"
Garnet shouted her response with fervor and took off running.
In the distance ahead, Marin's figure was already visible.
*Catch up. And then surpass.*