“It’s been a while, Ludville. I heard the news of your victory—splendid work.”

The Duke of Jevillan laughed with easy warmth and kept patting Ludville’s shoulder.

Ludville bowed, silent and correct.

“You must be full without eating. A son turning out this well would fill any father.”

“Stop the nonsense and go inside.”

Even as he scolded, Duke Sorpel let out a faint chuckle, as if praise for his son wasn’t unpleasant to hear.

“Very well.”

The Duke of Jevillan nodded and moved on. As he did, his glance slid, briefly, toward Camilla and Ravi.

“......”

Even as Ravi and {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} Camilla bowed with formal courtesy, he said nothing to them. He merely returned a slight nod in acknowledgment.

Unchanging, as ever.

Camilla took in that look with an even face.

The Duke of Jevillan prized bloodline and house more than any other noble.

Which meant—

We aren’t worth engaging.

Ravi and Camilla, who shared none of Duke Sorpel’s blood, were not a friend’s children to him. They were wards under a friend’s protection, nothing more.

“A guardian is plenty.”

“I’ve already decided. Ravi and Camilla are my children. They will share in my and Sorpel’s honor.”

“You’ll regret this, mark my words.”

“Nonsense.”

It was a conversation Camilla had overheard by chance at the edge of the garden, just after the duchess’s funeral.

Given the moment, the two men—who would have sensed Camilla’s presence at once on any other day—passed right by the shrubbery hiding her.

She remembered sitting there, watching them walk back into the manor.

At the time she’d thought the Duke of Jevillan was worrying over nothing, but now...

A prophet, really. Dead on.

He had been right.

In the end, Ravi and Camilla had tried to kill Ludville, Duke Sorpel’s trueborn son.

Thanks to Duke Sorpel’s decision then, the pair could go on being called young lord and young lady, but it didn’t change what people thought.

The Duke of Jevillan was no exception.

At least Ravi, now acknowledged as a mage, seemed to merit a polite nod. Camilla did not.

The displeasure in the Duke of Jevillan’s eyes as he looked at her was plain.

He had liked her even less since she began showing interest in Petro.

How dare she reach above herself—that was the gist.

Yes, yes. I’ve declined the honor now, thanks.

You couldn’t pay me to take your son, so don’t worry.

Facing the Duke of Jevillan’s disapproving gaze, Camilla didn’t stiffen as she once would have. She even gave him a light smile.

“......”

His brow twitched, briefly, at that, but he spared her no more attention. He simply didn’t deem her worth the notice.

He went in with Duke Sorpel.

Someone came to stand at Camilla’s side as she watched them go.

“It’s been a while, Miss Camilla.”

A handsome man with burning red hair addressed her with a gentle smile.

Petro Jevillan.

No wonder she fell headfirst.

That warm smile, that receptive gaze.

A kindness Camilla had never once received in her life.

She never even thought to test whether it was real or false.

That was why she had seized Petro’s hand.

And he was handsome on top of it; to Camilla he must have looked like a prince on a white horse.

She would never have imagined that this “prince” spread that same kindness to every woman alive.

Ugh. My least favorite type.

There were plenty of his kind in the entertainment world.

Men who knew perfectly well what their kindness made women assume, and enjoyed it.

If a woman confessed first, they’d feign surprise, say they didn’t feel that way, and pull back at once.

Then they’d leave the door ajar—thank you for liking me; if only the agency didn’t forbid dating, I’d go out with you right now.

Give me a break.

The man in front of her was exactly that type.

Whether the fruit was ripe or not, he had to pluck it and keep it in his hand.

“Is this the first time we’ve met since the party?”

“It is.”

“I’m sorry about that day. I should have helped, but I happened to be away from the hall...”

Listen to him.

I watched you slip out the moment the fight escalated because you couldn’t be bothered. Don’t start with me.

“I see.”

It was absurd, but she wasn’t angry.

That man had been doing this forever. Anger is for people who deserve it.

Camilla smiled radiantly. Petro’s eyes softened at the sight.

Damn it.

He really was absurdly good-looking. No wonder women fell for him.

“I’ve heard the gardens at House Sorpel are beautiful. I’d love to see them for myself.”

“Yes, they’re very beautiful.”

Camilla smiled brightly again.

If the former owner of this body were here, she would have leapt to take him there herself.

“Rube.”

But I’m not her.

Camilla called to the butler, Rube, waiting to one side.

“Yes, my lady.”

“The young lord of Jevillan wishes to see the gardens. Please guide him.”

“As you wish.”

Petro’s eyes went round as Rube stepped toward him.

“Enjoy your tour.”

Camilla gave him a little wave and briskly took her leave.

“......”

She’s... leaving me?

Petro stood there, blank, at a loss for words.

“Heh.”

He turned toward the sound. Ravi flicked his gaze away and walked on as if nothing had happened.

Ludville, too, looked at Petro in silence for a beat, then followed quietly after Ravi.

“Shall we go? The gardens are this way.”

“......”

Hearing the butler’s calm voice, Petro’s face went vacant again.

“Ha.”

A moment later a small laugh escaped him.

****

“No results again, I take it.”

The Duke of Jevillan spoke in a teasing tone, but Duke Sorpel ignored him.

The man had been poking fun at him about the missing Guardian since forever.

Today was no different. He didn’t even bother to feign sympathy; he looked openly pleased with himself.

“Why are you here.”

“I told you—business to discuss.”

“Then drop the nonsense and talk business.”

The Duke of Jevillan lifted a shoulder and got to the point.

“That strange ore from your mine.”

“What about it.”

“Our Juta Trading House would like to examine it.”

“And why you.”

At Duke Sorpel’s suspicious look, the Duke of Jevillan grinned and lowered his voice.

“You still haven’t found a use for it.”

“And?”

“We’ll help. In return, when you put it on the market, you sell through our Juta Trad—”

“No.”

“What? Why not? Our distribution network dwarfs yours.”

“Not handing it to you.”

The sulky edge in his voice made the reason obvious. The Duke of Jevillan had found an opening and kept poking.

“Petty man. Still sulking.”

“I’m not sulking.”

“You are.”

“Be quiet!”

The two men spoke with the ease of old friends.

No trace of the usual gravity or edge. They sounded like boys bickering.

Knock, knock.

At that moment, with a hint of movement outside, the door opened and someone came in.

“Father.”

A pleasant, clear voice rang through the room.

“I brought refreshments.”

Camilla herself set down tea and light snacks on the table.

“A tea I don’t recognize.”

“I heard you haven’t been sleeping well at night. This helps with sleep.”

Across times and cultures, nothing pleases parents more than a child worrying over their health.

Especially when she says it in front of someone else.

Smiling, Camilla poured the tea with her own hands.

“I’ll bring you another cup before bed.”

“Good.”

Duke Sorpel’s expression warmed at her words.

When she added that she’d quietly asked the staff because he seemed especially tired of late, his smile deepened. His eyes were full of pride.

Not a lie.

The butler’s spirit, Derrin, had told her—but she had still asked a few servants as cover.

Derrin had been fretting that the duke wasn’t sleeping well, and told her about this tea.

“Sit, too. Have some with us.”

“May I? I wouldn’t want to intrude...”

“Nonsense.”

Without even asking the Duke of Jevillan’s opinion, Duke Sorpel offered Camilla a seat.

Camilla gave the Duke of Jevillan a polite nod for permission and sat.

Watching quietly, the Duke of Jevillan flicked his eyes between them, a little surprised.

They seem to be getting along.

Not long ago the man could barely look at her—no, he acted like her very existence was a headache.

He’d had to bite back, every time, the urge to say, See? You should have listened to me from the start. Now, they looked... fine.

Did something happen while I was away?

“Please try it.”

Camilla offered him a cup as well.

“It won’t taste bad.”

At her words, the Duke of Jevillan lifted the cup and took a sip.

“...Not bad.”

He nodded lightly. A trace of bewilderment crossed his face.

Contrary to expectation, the tea was excellent—squarely to his rather fastidious palate.

Catching it, Camilla allowed herself a quiet glow of satisfaction.

Naturally.

I didn’t brew it.

She’d had the butler’s spirit, Derrin, help.

Perhaps because he’d been a butler, Derrin’s knowledge of tea was vast, and his hand with it beyond question.

Camilla watched the Duke of Jevillan sip again and again, as if the tea truly suited him.

More precisely, her gaze had been stolen by the presence perched on his shoulder.

A red eagle.

A bird red as flame from head to talons sat on the Duke of Jevillan’s shoulder.

Is that a Guardian?

She knew well enough that Jevillan’s house-Guardian was a red eagle.

She understood that the bird before her was what people meant by a Guardian.

But was she the only one who could see it?

Camilla glanced toward Duke Sorpel. His face was calm as he drank.

He paid no mind to the Guardian circling near the Duke of Jevillan.

How could anyone show no interest with so large and vivid a bird right before his eyes?