Kaizel’s house was not far from the small village of Lepher, so they could arrive quickly.

Yura Blake, who had dismounted from her horse, wore a dazed expression before shaking her head as if to collect herself.

Shaking her head unnecessarily only made her hair, already tousled from the wind, even more disheveled.

“Even if no one is watching, your hair is in quite a mess.”

Sikar Blake reached out to neatly arrange Yura’s hair while gazing toward Kaizel’s hut.

In front of the small hut in the field, untrimmed grass grew wildly, stretching all the way to the outer walls, making it seem as though no one lived there.

Had they not known Kaizel was staying here, one would never have guessed a person resided in this place—there were no visible signs of human presence.

Sikar halted his intention to enter the hut with Yura and looked around for something suitable to sit on.

Finding a wooden oak barrel, Sikar brought it over and spread a handkerchief he had taken from his chest upon it.

“You, sit here and wait for a moment.”

Yura, looking at the handkerchief laid atop the barrel, thought it better to follow inside rather than wait alone in what felt like an empty, deserted field.

“I’ll come in with you too.”

Though she pretended otherwise, she was a tender-hearted woman; witnessing something harsh might cause her to faint.

“If you want to see something unpleasant, then come in with me.”

Seeing Yura turn her head as if she had no further retort, Sikar chuckled lightly and entered the hut.

The old, worn wooden door opened with a loud, creaking noise.

Kaizel, who had been fixing his hair, startled at the presence and turned his head, but could only see the silhouette of a large man backlit by the sun.

“Who is it?”

Frowning to make out the face as he stepped closer, he was immediately seized by the throat.

He wanted to ask why, but no voice came out. The pressure from the fingers gripping his neck felt inhumanly strong.

Before the terror of his neck bones cracking could fully consume him, Kaizel fainted on the spot.

Sikar dragged the unconscious Kaizel—who hadn’t even resisted—outside and tied him to a pillar supporting the hut’s awning.

Since they had confirmed no one visited Kaizel, leaving him tied inside would surely result in him starving to death unnoticed, so they had no choice but to bring him outside.

Though no one passed by now, someone would surely find and untie him after the festival ended.

Seeing Kaizel slumped like a dead man, Yura ran over in alarm.

“He’s not… dead, is he?”

“He’s only fainted. No need to worry.”

Only then did Yura sigh in relief. Sikar picked up the handkerchief still lying on the oak barrel, dusted it off, and said,

“Let’s depart again.”

Returning once more to Lepher village, the festival was in full swing.

Because the vast land held relatively few people, Roen was quickly found.

Roen, with her hair beautifully braided into one, looked quite different from before. The bright flowers tucked into her braid made her appear even more lovely.

Unaware that her hair had become tangled from riding, Yura tried to dash forward, but Sikar gently rearranged her hair once more.

“No matter how common the folk, it’s proper etiquette to tidy messy hair before greeting others.”

His large, seemingly rough hands softly smoothed her hair.

“There. Done. But don’t run—even here the ground isn’t paved well; you might trip over a stone and break your nose.”

Since he was still holding her hand while saying this, Yura had no choice but to walk slowly, led by Sikar.

After a few more steps, Roen, spotting Yura, gathered her skirt and skipped gleefully toward them.

“Isn’t that Lady Yura?!”

Perhaps because she was backlit by sunlight, Roen’s beaming smile as she looked at Yura seemed especially radiant today.

“Hello! I was just looking for you, Lady Roen!”

“Well done! I’m so happy to see you too, Master Sika!”

Sikar gave a reluctant nod, as if barely accepting the greeting.

“Lady Yura, you look truly beautiful without your robe!”

Before Yura could even thank her, Roen, caught up in the festive excitement, spun several circles in place. Despite the chilly early spring, beads of sweat had gathered on her forehead.

“How do I look?”

“You’re so pretty—you look like a celestial maiden descended from heaven.”

“Do I look like a holy maiden?”

Roen seemed to have misheard Yura’s habitual term ‘celestial maiden’ as ‘holy maiden’—but that worked out better, since explaining ‘celestial maiden’ here would be difficult.

“Yes, you look like a holy maiden descended from heaven.”

Roen shyly cupped her cheeks with both hands and smiled sweetly.

“A holy maiden?! If the Holy Maiden heard that, she’d strike me with lightning!”

“Perhaps she’d strike you with lucky lightning?”

“Then shall we get struck together, Lady Yura?”

Perhaps because Roen’s loose strands fluttered in the wind as she beamed with excitement, Yura caught the mood too, grabbed Roen’s offered hand, and jumped up and down.

“Sure!”

“I’ve realized again—I suit this pretty dress much better than robes!”

“I think so too!”

“Really?!”

“Yes!”

Sikar covered his ears as if unable to bear the noise, but Yura and Roen, for some reason overjoyed, held hands and jumped up and down like they were dancing Ganggangsullae.

Only after running until breathless did they stop. Compared to Roen, Yura’s poor coordination meant she immediately felt dizzy and wobbled the moment she stopped spinning.

Had Sikar not promptly caught her shoulder, she would have staggered alone like a drunk person.

Perhaps from dizziness, her stomach churned. Before Yura could even say she felt nauseous, Sikar—as if he could see right through her—lightly patted her back.

“Someone with coordination as poor as yours spinning like that might feel sick. How’s your stomach? Okay?”

Yura could only lower her head deeply and wave her hand, unable to speak. Sikar silently and steadily patted her back.

After a while, she felt better.

“I think I’m okay now.”

Looking up, Roen was nowhere to be seen.

“Huh? Where’s Roen?”

“Over there.”

Looking where Sikar pointed, Roen was scanning the crowd as if searching for something.

Her sparkling eyes swiftly swept over the people.

“S, Sikar! Doesn’t it seem like Roen is searching for a man?”

“Seems that way.”

“Oh no! Before Roen meets some strange man, let’s quickly introduce her to Jeremi. Okay?”

“Roen seems just as strange—do we really need to…”

Before Sikar could finish, Yura grabbed him and marched determinedly toward where Roen stood.

“Lady Roen! Who are you looking for?”

As expected, Roen was searching for the person she’d shared her first kiss with today.

“I thought I’d just sit down wherever I find a man alone.”

“Why don’t you join us for a meal instead? My husband has prepared food.”

Actually, rather than Sikar preparing it himself, he had paid a local villager in advance to arrange it.

“No, I’d feel awkward intruding on the two of you.”

“There’s another gentleman joining us.”

Roen, who had been glancing around with no interest in Yura’s words, suddenly brightened.

“Oh?”

“Then will you follow me? It’s very nearby.”

“You should’ve said so sooner!”

Roen strode ahead of Yura and asked,

“Where is this gentleman now?”

She seemed truly in a hurry. Yura quickly told Sikar to fetch Jeremi, then hurried ahead of Roen, saying,

“Follow me.”

The place they had arranged was near the cedars where the coming-of-age ceremony was being held.

The table was lavishly prepared with pies, fruits, meats, and drinks.

“Here we are. My husband will bring the others shortly.”

“I’m really looking forward to meeting him!”

Roen’s face flushed with excitement, as if she were on a blind date. She took a sip of wine, swished it in her mouth like mouthwash, then spat it out.

Then, still glancing around for Sikar’s arrival, she suddenly said,

“Is that him?”

Sikar and Jeremi were walking over stiffly, as if to declare to all observers that they were not at all close.

“Yes, that’s him.”

Roen sprang to her feet and extended her hand the moment Jeremi reached the table.

“Welcome! I’m so glad to meet you. I’m Roen Lamut. Are you a knight?”

Startled by Roen’s abrupt greeting, Jeremi Iker glanced once at Yura with a bewildered look. When Yura cheerfully introduced Roen as a priestess of the temple, he bowed in surprise.

“Ah, greetings, Priestess. I am Jeremi Iker, a mage. Please don’t misunderstand—this uniform was given to me as a festival gift by these people here.”

“A mage? I thought mages were frail, but you look very healthy!”

Upon hearing he looked healthy, Jeremi straightened his back, broadened his shoulders, and said,

“Ah, that’s because mages wear robes. We wear robes because they allow lighter and more comfortable movement.”

“I see. Are you affiliated with a Mage Tower or a guild?”

“Currently, I’m not affiliated with any.”

“Then you must be much freer?”

“Indeed, since I’m unbound by obligations. But may I ask why you’re inquiring? Do you need a mage? If so, call me anytime—I’ll come running. My location is…”

“Do you have a lover?”

Jeremi froze as if time had stopped—even his breathing seemed to halt—as he stared at Roen.

Then, blinking several times as if doubting he’d misheard, he collected himself and asked,

“Pardon me—did you just ask if I have a lover?”

“Yes.”

“Ah… I see. No, I do not.”

“Oh my, how wonderful! I don’t have a lover either.”

Again, Jeremi stood motionless as if even his breath had ceased. It seemed this wasn’t the first time Jeremi had been rendered speechless.

Unable to reply, Jeremi glanced sideways at Yura, while Yura, struggling to suppress her laughter, found it hard to keep a straight face and lowered her head deeply.

“What’s your ideal type?”

“I…deal type?”

“What kind of woman do you like? For example, a woman with beautifully braided hair, or a priestess… or…”

Up to “priestess…” it seemed she was referring to herself. Yura, who had been listening silently until then, could only shut her mouth upon hearing what came next.

Of course, Jeremi’s face flushed crimson as if nothing could possibly be more embarrassing.

Roen rested her chin on her hand and said,

“A woman like me?”