The dagger only grazed the monster's eye.
It spun past the glowing white orb and embedded itself uselessly in the dirt.
"*Grrrrr.*"
The squealing transformed into a low, guttural growl. If anything, she'd only made it angrier.
Marin pressed her back against the tree trunk and began inching sideways, moving by inches. She needed to turn. She needed to *run*—
The moment she pivoted to flee, she crashed into something solid.
*I circled the tree. Where did another one come from?*
She froze, heart seizing—then slowly lifted her gaze.
The Duke.
"The main character appeared..."
The words slipped out before she could stop them.
He pulled her into his arms.
*Thud-thud-thud.*
Whose heart was pounding so violently? His or hers? The thunderous beats echoed in her ears, so loud they drowned out everything else.
"Ha." His voice was low, almost breathless. "Why do fights always seem to find you?"
*Saved.*
"Lord Gerald."
She wanted to look up at his face, wanted to say something—*anything*—but he only pressed her tighter against his chest.
"Just stay like this." His voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "For a little while."
Her heart began hammering even harder. Heat flooded her cheeks.
*Whose heartbeat is this?*
No—that wasn't the point right now.
"Yubis is wounded. El is—"
"The knights have already reached them. The Shadows aren't weak—don't worry."
"Oh..." The tension that had been coiled tight in her chest finally began to ease. "That's a relief."
Just hearing those words made the fear drain away. Knowing they would both be all right—that was enough.
"...It wasn't me."
"What wasn't you?"
"This time—" Her voice came out thick, wavering. "—it wasn't *me* who started the fight."
She looked up.
The Duke's eyes were open.
His silver irises seemed darker than usual—perhaps because of the night. Perhaps because of the shadows beneath them.
"Don't cry."
She thought she heard relief threaded through his whisper. Or was that just her imagination?
"I'm not crying."
"You're lying."
"I'm *really* not crying."
This tiny, stubborn creature, insisting through her nasal, tear-choked voice until the very end.
Gerald tucked her face against his chest again—so he wouldn't have to see the tears.
"Why?"
"I can't stand it when you cry."
"*Hn*... I don't pla—I'm *not* crying. But if you keep saying I am, then I really *will* start—" Her voice cracked. "*Heek.*"
Marin buried her face in his chest and wept.
Gerald held her soft, trembling body tighter. She fit perfectly in his arms—like a missing piece finally found.
The moment he'd heard from the servants that Marin had been asking for directions to the mine, every instinct had sharpened to a razor's edge. He'd raced through the forest, all senses straining for any trace of her.
His heart had pounded with wild, consuming anxiety—until he'd finally confirmed her presence from afar.
And then it had pounded again, just as madly, with *relief*.
*"Lord Gerald, now would be an excellent time to appear out of nowhere and save me. Isn't that what main characters are supposed to do?"*
There she went again—talking about main characters. Had she been reading too many novels?
As he'd approached, he'd sensed the brutal, predatory energy of the monster standing before her. Its hunger. Its focus.
*How dare you.*
*What a pathetic creature.*
A fist-sized stone had lain at his feet. He'd scooped it up and thrown—and the rock had become a lethal projectile, piercing the monster's skull. The thing collapsed without even time to howl.
Gerald had immediately pulled Marin into his arms.
Only after he'd held her—only then—had he been able to breathe again. He realized he hadn't drawn a single breath since spotting the monster before her. Their heartbeats merged, pounding in tandem.
He wanted to make certain she was truly unharmed. Wanted to check everything, piece by piece.
When he opened his eyes, black gloom surrounded him. Marin in his arms was just a dark shape—slightly lighter than the rest of the void.
At some point, the blinding white shroud that had plagued his vision had given way to darkness. He still couldn't see properly. But something had changed.
Gerald refused to let himself hope. Without expectations, there could be no disappointments.
But in this moment, he ached to see her—even just a little.
---
## — The Mansion —
The Duke held Marin's hand tightly as they walked back together.
Daya and Julia were waiting at the entrance, faces pale with worry. The moment they saw her, both burst into tears.
"*Teacher!* Are you all right?"
"L-lady..." Julia's head dropped, guilt written across every feature.
"I'm fine." Marin squeezed Julia's arm reassuringly. "How is Yubis?"
"F-fine. He's being t-treated now."
Her stutter had returned—a sure sign of how badly she'd been frightened.
"Good. That's good."
Without warning, Julia dropped to her knees, pressing her forehead nearly to the floor.
Marin immediately reached down and pulled her back to her feet.
"Julia—"
Julia gently removed Marin's hands from her shoulders. Her eyes were red-rimmed, swimming with tears and shame.
"I learned everything from Yubis." Her voice shook. "I'm so sorry, my lady. Because of my brother—I'm *so* sorry."
"Get up, Julia. It's not Yubis's fault. He simply got lost."
"But still—"
"I'd like to wash again." Marin's voice softened deliberately. "Will you prepare the bath?"
"Yes. I'll draw it immediately."
Biting her lip hard—holding back a fresh wave of tears—Julia rose and hurried away.
Marin turned to Daya. "Go rest. I'll rest too."
"Yes, Teacher. Please—rest well."
Marin moved toward her room—but the Duke was still holding her hand.
"Lord Gerald, you can let go now..."
He looked down, as though only just realizing he'd been clutching her fingers this entire time.
But he didn't release her.
"I'll escort you to your room."
"That's not necessary—" She paused. Sighed. "...All right."
She had no strength left to argue.
They walked to her door hand in hand.
At the threshold, Marin looked up at him once more.
"You really should let go now."
Only then did he slowly—*reluctantly*—uncurl his fingers.
His thumb dragged across her little finger as their hands parted.
That drawn-out, lingering movement—full of something unspoken, something almost *melancholy*—sent heat rushing to her face.
*At times like these, it's fortunate he can't see.*
"I'll go now."
"Yes."
She left him standing in the corridor and slipped into her room.
Despite how little time had passed, the bath was already steaming and ready.
"Julia—how did you manage this so quickly?"
"I prepared it in advance, my lady. In case you needed to wash right away." Julia helped her out of her dress as she spoke. "The water had cooled a bit, so I just added more hot."
*Well done.*
Marin sank into the bath with a groan of relief. Her muscles—taut and screaming from the escape—began slowly unknotting in the heat.
"*Mmm*... This is wonderful. Julia, you're the best."
A small, tremulous smile flickered across Julia's face as she began washing Marin's hair.
"Thank you, my lady."
"For what?"
"For protecting my brother." Julia's voice grew thick. "I heard—you saved his life."
"Anyone would have done the same."
Marin smiled and dipped her face beneath the water's surface.
Julia continued working the soap through her hair, shaking her head quietly where Marin couldn't see.
*The lady was wrong. Not everyone would have done that.*
Especially for orphans like them—children who could always be replaced by someone new. Marin had done what few people were capable of, and yet she'd dismissed it as though it were nothing.
For that, Julia thanked her with every fiber of her heart.
And she made a silent vow: *One day, I will find a way to repay this kindness.*
---
## — The Next Day —
Marin slept until late afternoon and remained in bed even after waking. Her legs, exhausted from the night's desperate sprint, ached with every movement. Everything felt heavy.
A knock at the door preceded Julia's entrance. She carried a tray laden with food.
"The Duke has decided we'll stay here another day."
"Will that disrupt the schedule?"
"No, my lady. He said there's sufficient time, and that you should rest properly."
"I see."
Marin pushed herself upright and settled at the small table. She picked up a croissant and began tearing off pieces.
*Oh, this pastry...*
"The bread is delicious. Have you eaten?"
"Yes, my lady."
Julia slid the plate of baked goods closer.
*Knock-knock.*
Julia responded to the sound:
"Yes?"