Ihan brought Revi back to his own home.

It wasn’t as if he couldn’t have taken her somewhere else, but he figured his place would be the safest. And, truthfully, there was another significant reason he’d chosen to bring her here.

"Please, enjoy some tea while you talk!"

"Th-Thank you, Miss Maid."

"Not at all! Please, make yourself comfortable!"

"Yes… Thank you."

"Hehe."

Reira Winter, his maid, had a comforting presence that seemed to radiate life itself. Ihan thought that simply having Reira around would help Revi feel at ease.

Reira, exuding her characteristic vitality like a human vitamin, trotted backward out of the room, giving Ihan an encouraging wink as she mouthed, "Good luck, Sir Knight!"

Such positive energy was a skill not even aura users could replicate. Sure enough…

"Miss Reira is really amazing. She’s always so positive and seems to understand people’s feelings."

"I think you’re giving her too much credit. In my opinion, she’s just thoughtlessly cheerful."

"That… might be true."

Revi seemed to regain some energy from Reira’s sunlight-like aura. This was certainly a positive sign.

Well…

"Oh no!"

…Although perhaps Revi didn’t need to mimic every aspect of her.

Sure enough, as Reira tripped backward with a startled "Oops!" and the clatter of her fall filled the room, one of Ihan’s recently crafted tables shattered into pieces.

Under normal circumstances, one might worry more about the person than the furniture. However, Ihan wasn’t particularly concerned.

"Wh-What should I do? Sir Knight, the table… it’s broken…"

"This isn’t the first time, so don’t worry about it. Are you hurt?"

"Huh?"

"…She’s so sturdy she didn’t even consider the possibility of getting hurt."

"Hehehe."

"Just stay healthy. I’ll be satisfied with that."

"Hehe, yes!"

Ihan gave his usual composed reassurance, while the maid beamed at him as if she were a golden retriever wagging her tail. Seeing them, Revi stifled a giggle.

"Hmph!"

"…"

"I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to laugh…."

"No, it’s good to see you laugh. People should laugh when they feel like it; it’s good for the soul."

"Um… well…"

"Have you cried yourself out now?"

"!!?"

"Haha, you’re fun to tease."

"T-That’s too much…."

Revi’s face flushed, and her voice dropped to a whisper. Ihan urged her to keep laughing, as much as she wanted.

‘Finally, she looks a bit livelier.’

People need to let themselves cry when times are tough. It helps to lighten the heart.

‘Thank goodness.’

He felt a wave of relief wash over him.

When he’d first found her, she’d looked completely defeated, wearing an expression as if the world had collapsed around her. He hadn’t been able to just leave her like that; he’d worried she might make a drastic decision.

Today, she’d been on the verge of breaking.

‘There’s no way I can let her go now.’

One of Ihan’s most harrowing memories from his time as a noncommissioned officer was witnessing attempts at suicide among his soldiers.

From bullying among peers, physical beatings, and the depression that came from failing to adapt to military life, to the sense of deprivation that came with losing freedom for two years—soldiers who reached their breaking point often chose the path of self-harm.

Ihan had taken on the responsibility of caring for such individuals.

He had, admittedly, been unfairly assigned the task. But it was the first time he’d ever been truly passionate about something in the military. He didn’t want to see anyone die in front of him. He wanted to help them endure a little longer so they could return to society.

Thanks to his efforts, incidents in his unit had diminished significantly.

And now…

‘It’s been a while since I’ve done this kind of mental care.’

Here was a young girl showing deeply troubling signs. She was fragile, like a candle that could be snuffed out at any moment.

He couldn’t stand by and watch his beloved student succumb to despair.

"Revi."

"Y-Yes, sir!"

"Why are you so surprised?"

"It’s just… I think this is one of the few times you’ve called me by my name…."

"Uncomfortable? Then I’ll call you by something else."

"N-No, calling me ‘Revi’ is fine…."

"Alright then, I’ll call you that."

"Yes…."

It wasn’t just that he’d called her by name; it was also the warmth in his voice. Revi blushed, clearly unused to someone addressing her so personally.

She really was an exceptionally pure soul.

An adult in age only, still with a bit of a ‘young girl’ aura.

This purity, however, made her all the more vulnerable.

She was still young and in need of society’s protection, fragile like glass that could shatter at any time.

And so, Ihan approached her gently but with firm resolve.

"I’ll ask you some questions now. If you find it difficult to answer, you can simply nod or say ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ I’ll interpret your responses as best I can."

"Oh, you really don’t need to…."

"Did you drop out of the academy by choice? Or was someone forcing you to?"

"!!!"

"See? You’re already struggling to answer."

"…"

"Alright, you don’t even need to nod. Just listen to what I have to say."

Ihan took a sip of the tea Reira had brought him, preparing to delve into the conversation.

"I don’t claim to know everything about you. But I do know this: you’re not the type to give up on learning for no reason."

"…"

"I know something must have happened. I know you’ve been struggling, agonizing over it all by yourself, and finally, you decided to drop out. But, listen, enduring suffering alone isn’t bravery—it’s just self-torture."

"I… I…."

"As I said, if speaking is too hard, you don’t have to say anything. I just want to understand what’s really in your heart. I’m only asking because I don’t want to see you suffering alone."

"…"

"Let me offer you one piece of advice as someone who’s been through life a little longer: sometimes, simply sharing things with someone else can be a comfort."

"Master, you…"

"Hm?"

"…You’re unexpectedly eloquent."

"Is that… a compliment?"

"Yes."

The highest praise.

 

The Folt family, once known for producing esteemed knights, had lost nearly everything.

Generations ago, their swords and martial arts skills had been passed down orally rather than recorded. And because of that, when knights fell in battle during the war with Britain, nearly all of their legacy was lost.

By the time Revi’s grandfather had taken over, all that remained were the family’s noble title and a few small properties. Still, her grandfather had tried to cling to the family’s honor, swearing to rebuild what they’d lost.

But instead of accepting reality, he’d simply struggled, unable to restore what had already disappeared.

In truth, if Folt had embraced this reality, they might have found a different path. Perhaps they could have established themselves as civil servants or pursued a more stable life.

Instead…

"Martial techniques and swordsmanship are refined over generations, crystallizing as treasures within a knight’s body. Restoring them isn’t a simple task. Even if my grandfather were a prodigy like Young Master Loen, it wouldn’t have been possible. And my grandfather… was merely average. With average skills, there’s no way to revive such techniques."

They’d poured every last bit of their resources into trying to restore the family’s martial techniques and swordsmanship, but it hadn’t been enough.

Eventually…

"The family went bankrupt."

Yes, the Folt family went bankrupt.

All their titles were sold off, leaving them as little more than honorary nobles, living in a small, borrowed house.

If it weren’t for the legacy of being a war hero and the small estate left to them, the family might have ceased to exist.

Reality was harsh, and Revi’s father should have accepted that by now.

He should have let go of his dreams, focused on providing for his family.

Instead—

"Revi, would you consider getting married?"

She saw it clearly—the gold bracelets on his wrists, the ornate sword decorated with flashy embellishments.

In that moment, she understood.

She had been sold.

"It would be a lie to say I’m not hurt. But I’m trying to think positively about it. At least this way, my family can live in better conditions."

"…"

"It’s also a good marriage match. Although the Marquess is quite a bit older, he is of the Tristan family. Not bad, really. While other noblewomen are desperate to secure good matches, I’m…."

"…"

"I’m… but… Master, why can’t I bring myself to say I’m okay with this?"

"…"

In response to Revi’s quiet question, Ihan remained silent.

He didn’t answer her question because, deep down, Revi already knew the answer herself.

Telling her how it felt to have one’s wings clipped and one’s feet shackled…

‘…That would be too cruel.’

 

Ihan left Revi with Reira for a moment and walked to the cliff in his backyard.

It was a desolate, silent place.

Had he come here to clear his head?

No.

Or maybe because of his rising anger?

That wasn’t it either.

The reason he’d come here, to an area where no one else would be…

"I have a few questions for you."

"Yes, sir."

Footsteps approached.

He’d come to meet a particular person.

As soon as he threw the question into the air, a boy with gray hair appeared, seemingly having anticipated Ihan’s call.

As if already knowing what Ihan would want to know.

And, just as expected, Ihan’s question was:

"What happens to her in the ‘original story’?"

"…"

"You don’t have to answer if you’d rather not. I’m not pressing you for it. It just… crossed my mind."

"Haha…."

So he’s given up on pretending now.

Derek laughed to himself, but he felt no resentment.

Because he knew Ihan’s questions were always deeply human in nature.

And so, he replied:

"This is… purely hypothetical, of course. I’m just talking to myself."

"…Alright. Let’s leave it at that."

"Ahem."

In a voice just above a whisper, he delivered the [spoiler].

"The Marquess is poisoned and left clinging to life. And Revi Folt is blamed as the culprit."

"…"

"Would you… like me to continue?"

"Um…!"

Ihan suddenly felt a pang of nostalgia for the fiery, satisfying taste of food from home—a craving so intense, he found himself wanting a sip of the most refreshing dongchimi he could imagine.