Chapter 12
“Good heavens, Sir Anjou. Did I hear that correctly?”
“I apologize. It’s my first time meeting someone so frail outside, so I failed to be considerate.”
As Dana asked back in disbelief, the knight added as if apologizing.
“Lady, you are from House Valois, are you not? A prestigious family that has produced generations of outstanding knights.”
“And what of it?” she asked.
He shrugged.
“I am simply concerned. Even someone like you, who grew up training as a knight since childhood, cannot endure it. So how could someone this fragile—”
“Sir Anjou, if you say one more word, I will have no choice but to report everything to His Grace the Duke today.”
When Dana’s face twisted into an intimidating expression and she was about to escalate the situation, Aria held out a card.
[How old are you?]
“Age?”
It was a sudden question.
“I am twenty-four this year…”
Aria had died when she had just turned twenty in her previous life, so even counting her past age, he was four years older than her.
Without realizing it, she felt a faint sense of pity.
[Everything you boast about—health, status, strength—those are all things you were simply lucky to be born with.]
[In twenty-four years of life, how little must you have achieved on your own to take pride in a shell like that?]
The knight blinked slowly, unable to believe his eyes.
He had never imagined he would be spoken to like that by a ten-year-old child.
Only after a moment did he grasp the meaning of the words, and his face turned bright red in an instant.
“…You!”
Anjou Beaufort.
The second son of the Beaufort house, he was a knight of the 4th Knight Order.
The 4th Order was composed of unattached knights who belonged nowhere in particular.
Because of that, they were often subtly looked down upon as “rejects” among knights.
Even so, most had entered through merit, but Anjou himself had not—he had been transferred in through the influence of House Beaufort.
Aria had struck directly at the deep-seated inferiority he could never admit, piercing it without hesitation.
[A sickness of the body can be cured with medicine, but I’m not sure how one heals a sickness of the mind. How unfortunate.]
“Pffft.”
A stifled laugh sounded.
The knight, trembling in humiliation, turned toward the source of the laughter with a terrifying glare.
The knight who had mocked Anjou shrugged, as if to say:
“So it’s true you’re nothing but your family name.”
As if mocking him.
“You filthy bastards… all of you…”
Anjou ground his teeth.
“And how are you any better, to say something like that?”
To a man who had lived his whole life abused, only to be sold as a sacrifice by his own father and now on the verge of being discarded empty-handed.
“So then, young lady, have you achieved anything yourself?”
It was not something an adult should ever say to a child.
But Anjou snapped back in rage.
Then Aria smiled gently, as if looking at an immature child, and held up another card.
[When I grow up, I’ll try not to become like you.]
It was a complete defeat.
Everyone present—Dana, Betty, and the servants—were stunned.
They had only known the young lady as cute and lovable; they had never expected this side of her.
At the same time, admiration and reverence began to settle in their hearts.
Especially Dana, who knew Aria’s circumstances best.
“So even though she’s a noble herself, she didn’t deny her noble birth, and instead called the title granted by His Majesty mere ‘shell’…”
Unless one believed all human lives were equal, such words were impossible.
It was a radical philosophy—especially in the rigidly hierarchical Pineta Empire.
“…What! You—!”
The knight shouted reflexively, then quickly clamped his mouth shut with a “hup.”
“Sir Anjou, have you lost your mind?”
“Step back and do not commit further rudeness to the young lady.”
Even the knights who had been displeased by Anjou’s behavior stepped in.
“That woman—no, the young lady—”
As he glared at Aria, his face flushed with rage as though he wanted to strike her.
She tilted her head slightly.
She was thinking.
Since he kept talking about rank and status so much, she wanted to show him the difference in rank properly—but there were too many eyes here.
“Should I visit him later in secret?”
But even that wasn’t worth the effort.
More importantly, it was too much trouble.
As Aria looked on indifferently at the knights arguing with Anjou and the servants, a voice suddenly rang out.
“…Woman?”
It was a youthful voice.
But within that single word lay an unmistakable pressure.
Everyone flinched and turned toward the door, which had opened silently.
A boy leaned casually against the doorway, staring at the knight with emotionless eyes.
Dark eyes, impossible to read.
But under that gaze, Anjou felt as if a blade had been aimed precisely between his brows.
“Ghk!”
In an instant, he saw it—like lightning—a sword drawn and slicing through his neck.
Through his neck.
A severed head, the world spinning.
The knight gasped for breath, trembling as he reached for his neck.
“My… my neck…”
There was no wound. No blood.
But he had undeniably seen the horrifying illusion of his head being cut off and blood gushing out.
All due to the boy’s killing intent alone.
As if confirming it was no illusion, Lloyd’s hand moved to his sword and he clicked the blade slightly out of its sheath.
“I-I was wrong…!”
“Repent in front of God.”
Not to ask forgiveness from the devil.
It took only one second—the time it took to cut the neck of a talking worm.
Then, the boy’s sharpened senses caught the faint rustle of fabric.
When he turned his head, Aria was there at the edge of his vision.
“….”
She shook her head.
As if telling him not to.
“You… who do you think you are…”
But Lloyd’s gaze lingered on the bandages around Aria’s neck.
A wound he had caused himself.
His eyes darkened slightly.
His grip tightened on the sword handle until it nearly cracked.
But in the end, he did not draw it.
As if unable to accept that fact, he gritted his teeth in frustration.
“Interesting choice of words.”
“Pardon?”
“Woman. And next? Go on, say it. You look like you have more to say.”
But of course he could not.
The knight broke into a cold sweat and clenched his teeth, lowering his head.
“If you don’t finish your sentence, I might misunderstand. I might think you’ve gotten tired of living.”
As if nothing was urgent, Lloyd waited.
A jaguar the size of a house followed him in, lazily roaming the room.
An absurd sight—but everyone else seemed used to it and simply watched.
Only Anjou turned pale blue, trembling uncontrollably.
“Eek!”
When the jaguar’s tail accidentally brushed his leg, he let out a disgraceful scream.
Wiping his sweaty palms on his trousers, he spoke.
“Y-yes, everything the young lady said is correct.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, yes. She spoke nothing but the truth, and I foolishly failed to understand her deep meaning.”
In the face of death, pride meant nothing.
Those who speak of rank are crushed by rank.
Aria looked away as if he was no longer worth her attention.
Indeed, he was not worth dealing with.
“So you were in the wrong.”
“Y-yes, that is correct.”
“And how will you repay it?”
“Pardon?”
Instead of answering, Lloyd tapped the wall he was leaning against—precisely, rhythmically.
A suffocating manner of speech.
Like a predator forcing prey into a trap until it stepped in on its own.
“H-how should I repay it…”
Now that he could not kill him, perhaps he had lost interest.
The boy looked bored, his gaze drifting somewhere empty.
Aria quietly watched him.
Then their eyes met again.
Lloyd frowned slightly.
For a moment, something unfamiliar flickered in his pitch-black eyes—then disappeared.
He murmured,
“I heard the stable hand is short-staffed lately.”
“I’ll do it!”
“You? A knight working under a stable hand might be a burden to him.”
Anjou gritted his teeth in humiliation, trembling.
“You want me to shovel horse dung…?”
His mother was a favored niece of the former emperor, giving him imperial backing.
Even though things had changed after the emperor’s death and the crown prince’s ascension, he still remembered the glory he once enjoyed.
Because of that, he believed himself to be no different from royalty.
To him, the stable hand was the lowest possible job.
But he knew this was something he had to cling to desperately to survive.
“If I refuse… I’ll die.”
His instincts screamed it.
“Ah, this will do. Until you reflect on your actions, you will temporarily be stripped of your knighthood.”
“What!”
“Who decides whether you’ve reflected? Naturally, the person you offended. Isn’t that right?”
“….”
“You look dissatisfied.”
“Not at all. I will obey your command.”
Lloyd spoke without hesitation.
“Then kneel.”
It was a simple command.
Overwhelmed by sheer power, Anjou knelt before Aria and pressed his forehead to the ground.
Lloyd handed Aria the authority to grant or revoke knighthood, then turned away.
“….”
He walked toward the exit without hesitation, then suddenly stopped.
With a sigh, he ran a hand through his messy bangs, looking irritated.
Then he strode back toward Aria.
“You’re an idiot.”
Suddenly?
“Why are you just enduring that?”
She hadn’t been enduring it. Aria felt wronged—she had said everything she wanted to say.
She hadn’t stopped him out of pity for the knight, but because she didn’t want blood splattered in her room.
“Next time, hit anyone who touches you. I’ll even allow you to punch the Duke’s face if you want.”
That’s a bit much…
Isn’t that basically filial piety in reverse?
While Aria was trying to determine whether he was serious or joking, he reached inside his coat and pulled out a set of knuckles.
And handed them to her.
“Why are you carrying that…”
Who exactly were you planning to hit?
Before she could even react, he added as if explaining himself,
“I’m transferring all my authority to you while I’m away.”
Why though?
Before she could ask, he added,
“Consider it my final consideration. Use that authority to find a place outside the castle while I’m gone. Do not return to Valentine Castle again.”
Leaving behind strange gifts and even stranger authority, Lloyd departed with his jaguar.
Only later did she realize that this had been the final farewell before he left for the academy.
