At the doorway stood the Baroness and Matruska.
Silvara reacted imdiately. She set the plate down on the small table beside the bed, then straightened and gave a crisp bow.
"My Lady."
"Lady Matruska."
Matruska covered her mouth with the back of her hand, letting out a small, soundless laugh. Her shoulders lifted slightly, clearly holding back amusent.
The Baroness, on the other hand, fell silent.
Her gaze shifted from Silvara... to the plate... then to Lucas, who was still sitting weakly on the bed, a visible sar of food on his chin.
The Baroness let out a soft breath, her expression turning into one of confusion and curiosity.
In her mind, a conclusion ford almost instantly.
Lucian must have forced her.
Matruska took a half step forward, a faint smile still lingering, difficult to fully hide.
"Forgive , Young Master," she said lightly, almost casually. "May I co in?"
Lucas blinked once.
With so effort, he raised his hand, wiped the food from his chin, then lowered it again.
"Go ahead," he said weakly.
Silvara stepped back a single pace, giving them space. Her stance returned to neutral, as if nothing unusual had just happened.
Lucas was still looking at Matruska.
The stare was empty—lingering for too long.
Matruska’s smile—gentle, calm, slightly tilted at the corner of her lips—pulled sothing loose from an old mory. With his body still exhausted, a faint tightness crept into his chest as a precious mory from his original world surfaced effortlessly, without needing much ti.
Lucas looked away. He turned his face to the side, his jaw tightening slightly.
The Baroness noticed the small movent.
She paused for a mont, then a thought surfaced almost reflexively.
My son must be still hoping to marry Matruska.
Silvara, standing slightly to the side, saw everything.
Lucas’s gaze. Matruska’s smile. The way Lucas turned his face away.
And—unbidden—that line surfaced again in her mind.
"...Looks like my mother."
Her chest felt strange, tightening slightly for no clear reason. She took a short breath, then murmured inwardly, Don’t be sad.
Her eyes lifted.
Her gaze settled on Lucas.
While all eyes were on Lucas—
Elsewhere, the Baron walked through the damaged areas of the village. So soldiers stood on guard, while others sat resting with rough bandages wrapped around their wounds. Veska and Karska followed a few steps behind him, keeping their distance.
The Baron stopped.
The voice of a wounded soldier carried clearly.
"They say the Young Master is unwell... Healer Mae went to the manor earlier."
The Baron changed direction and approached the soldier.
"Unwell? How?" he asked curtly.
The soldier swallowed. "I’m not entirely sure, My Lordship. But Healer Mae was urgently called by Miss Silvara."
The Baron nodded once. His expression did not change.
He turned around. "Veska. Karska. You may look around the other areas if you wish."
Despite the words if you wish, Veska and Karska understood the polite dismissal.
"Yes, My Lordship," they replied in unison.
The two of them left. After they had gone so distance—
Veska glanced to the side. "Karska... do you think the Baron is the Shadow of the South?"
Karska answered imdiately. "No idea."
Veska gave a small grin. "But it makes sense, right? Lady Isabelle wouldn’t marry a weak man." She rubbed her own chin. "Still, it’s hard to believe. This territory is far too poor for soone rumored to be that powerful."
Karska turned sharply. "Veska. Don’t gossip!"
Veska snorted. "Hah. You’re always so stiff."
----
The Baron turned back to the soldier. "Where is Healer Mae now?"
"At her clinic, My Lordship," the soldier replied quickly. "She is resting. She looked extrely exhausted."
The Baron said nothing further. He turned at once and walked away. The distance from where he was standing to Mae’s clinic was not far.
A short while later—
The clinic door opened.
Inside, Mae and Lina were sitting casually. Both startled, then imdiately stood and bowed.
"My Lordship."
The Baron stepped inside. "What happened to my son? Is he ill?"
Mae fell silent.
Her expression changed. She imdiately dropped to her knees. "Forgive , My Lordship."
The Baron stopped.
"The Young Master... used a physical enhancent potion of my own making," Mae continued, her voice restrained. "The effects manifested earlier because his body was pushed too hard."
She bowed even deeper. "This was my negligence. I sincerely apologize."
The Baron raised one hand.
"Enough."
The Baron turned and left the clinic.
Inside his mind, a conclusion ford.
So... he recalled his son’s agility during the duel against Aldric, a regional knight, it wasn’t because he inherited my talent—nor Isabelle’s.
His steps slowed.
He let out a long, heavy breath,
This sense of disappointnt... he thought, it makes feel like a hypocrite.
The Baron lifted his head.
His gaze swept over the village before him—damaged houses, muddy ground, wounded soldiers, and people who continued to endure even as exhaustion was clearly etched on their faces.
From the very beginning, he thought again,
I never wanted my son to set foot on a battlefield.
Back in Lucas’s room—
Lucas frowned. "A... soil sample?"
Matruska gave a light nod. "After the Rosevelt side deployed a team to interrogate Aldric—and with his death sentence reduced to life imprisonnt—Aldric confessed. He stated that he orchestrated the conspiracy for the sake of the land planted with tomatoes belonging to you, Young Master."
"...Huh?" Lucas frowned. "Seriously?"
"Yes," Matruska replied calmly.
Lucas let out a short breath. "Then just take the sample."
The Baroness interjected at once, her tone casual. "See? I told you, Matruska. You could have taken it directly."
Matruska smiled faintly and shook her head. "No, My Lady. Permission must still be obtained from the rightful owner."
The Baroness let out a small laugh, seemingly amused. "That’s just how you are."
Matruska gave a brief bow. "In that case, I’ll take my leave."
She turned and exited the room.
The Baroness stepped closer. She placed a hand on Lucas’s shoulder, her touch gentle yet full of concern.
"Are you all right?" she asked.
Lucas nodded. "Yes. There’s no need to worry."
The Baroness looked at him for a few seconds, then—seemingly from nowhere—produced a small pouch of money and placed it in Lucas’s hand.
"This is for today," she said lightly. "Sorry it’s not much."
Lucas stared at the pouch, montarily stunned.
The Baroness smiled, then turned around. "Get so rest."
She walked away.
Lucas watched her retreating figure.
It’s hard to believe, he thought, as he looked at that overly affectionate, feminine woman... the sa woman who had just handed him money so naturally—
was the very sa person who, just last night, clad in armor, had ridden a horse and charged into bandits with a lance.
The atmosphere grew awkward again.
Now only Silvara and Lucas remained in the room. This ti, the door was firmly closed—shut by the Baroness before she left.
Lucas turned his head.
"...Are you embarrassed because you got caught feeding ?"
Silvara shook her head slightly.
She did not look at Lucas. Her gaze shifted to the side, clearly avoiding his eyes.
"Then why?" Lucas asked. "You’re really acting strange..."
Silvara fell silent for a mont.
Then she spoke, her voice flat but quieter than usual. "I offer my condolences... for the death of your real mother."
Lucas understood imdiately.
Matruska’s face earlier.
Lucas gave a small smile. "Ahahaha... looks like this cynical knight has a pretty good sense of empathy—"
He tried to joke.
But Silvara continued to look at him with a serious expression. She did not smile along.
Lucas stopped.
His tone shifted, calm and sincere. "Yeah. Thank you... for your concern."
Silvara finally turned toward him. Their gazes t for a brief mont.
Then she nodded slowly.
For the first ti, Silvara’s mind felt... empty. No quick analysis. No sharp, imdiate response. Just a single question looping endlessly.
What should I do?
What should I say?
She stood there for too long.
Fortunately—
Knock. Knock.
A knock at the door.
"Co in!" Lucas called.
The door opened, and Liona stepped into the room. "There’s a guest for the Young Master. They’re waiting outside."
Silvara let out a breath of relief she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding. "Understood."
Lucas observed Liona.
Her tone. Her posture. The stiff way she addressed him as Young Master.
Sothing important? Lucas thought.
He forced himself to sit up straighter, then reached for his shoes. "I’ll go out."
"Let help—" Liona stepped forward.
But at the sa ti, Silvara moved as well.
A small collision was unavoidable.
Silvara reflexively bowed her head slightly. Liona did the sa.
They stopped at the sa ti.
A brief mont of silence.
Liona gave a small smile, as if she understood the strange atmosphere. "I’ll take my leave."
She walked away, closing the door gently behind her.
Silvara stood stiffly for a mont.
Lucas had already put on his shoes. He glanced at Silvara briefly—then stood up.
"Let’s go," he said shortly.
Silvara nodded, still half a second slower than usual.
Lucas could feel his body was much better now. The heaviness was still there, but it no longer bound his joints. He could walk on his own without needing support.
When they arrived in front of the manor—
Soone was already waiting.
Valeric Rosevelt.
He stood upright, his posture immaculate, the Rosevelt cloak falling straight over his shoulders. The mont Lucas appeared, Valeric stepped forward without hesitation.
No pleasantries.
"As the Highblade of Rosevelt," he said firmly, "I have co to present a reward for the Young Master’s courage in confronting a pest within the Rosevelt family during yesterday’s duel."
Lucas stopped.
Valeric shifted to the side, making space.
"I bestow upon you—" his voice paused briefly, then continued with clear articulation, "The Huzz!"
Lucas’s eyes widened.
"...The what?"
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