Chapter 20: Kishin— In Shock
“Why is the deputy commander acting like that today?”
“He’s always like that.”
“He is like that often, but today he’s even colder than usual.”
When Guard Will complained, Philly glanced over at deputy commander Kishin Hayward’s face.
Indeed. Upon closer inspection, Kishin’s expression was a little frostier than usual. Since he always looked like that anyway, Philly, who was usually unfazed, hadn’t noticed right away.
Will raised the hand holding his sword and showed it.
“Look at how my hand’s trembling. Normally I’d get through this sword route in 500 swings, but today I had to swing 700 times. I’m dying here. If my arm falls off tomorrow, you’d better report that it’s because of Kishin.”
“You’re swinging 700 times because you broke formation during training.”
Philly replied curtly and went back to focusing on his own training.
Conversations like this broke out all over where Squad 1 of the guard had gathered.
Kishin Hayward’s condition today was poor enough that only the sharpest could notice.
It was all because of Classie Kalashi.
‘Trying to two-time me, are you?’
Kishin, stricter than usual in supervising the guards, couldn’t stand it any longer and returned to his room for a cold drink.
Classie’s letter kept surfacing in his mind.
He had been utterly flabbergasted when he received her letter asking to meet on December 7th.
If Classie hadn’t personally told her nephew that she was interested in Dernick, he would’ve accepted her invitation to go on a date.
And that was what made Kishin all the more furious—both with himself and with her.
He despised the distasteful schemes of socialite nobles, yet he’d nearly fallen for one himself. He was disgusted with himself for nearly giving in, and disappointed with Classie, who seemed so honest and bold while secretly planning to play two men.
‘My training is lacking.’
Kishin scolded himself for being emotionally shaken over just one person and took off his coat.
Instead of just managing the guards with a strict eye, he decided to train directly in the practice yard.
But just as he was taking off his shirt to change clothes, the door opened without a knock—and Dernick strolled in.
When Kishin looked over, Dernick feigned surprise and knocked on the door from inside.
“Oops, sorry. Meant to knock first—guess I forgot. I’ve done it now, so we’re good, right?”
That rude behavior made Kishin even more displeased.
What on earth did Classie Kalashi see in this man who casually called her a weapons dealer and treated her without respect?
Dernick grinned and drifted over like a passing dark cloud.
“Why are you taking your clothes off?”
As Kishin finished changing into a training shirt, he answered,
“Thought I’d run a few drills.”
Dernick perched on Kishin’s desk and absentmindedly tapped a feather quill stuck in the ink bottle, then grinned.
“Why are you angry?”
“……”“It’s not because the weapons dealer lady said she likes me more, is it?”
Dernick’s tone was one of smug pride. Kishin once again found Classie’s taste in men sorely lacking.
At the same time, a small, nagging doubt surfaced.
Looking at Dernick reminded him of an earlier incident. Just a few days ago, Kishin had misunderstood Classie because of something Dernick had said in a twisted way.
Could there have been another misunderstanding this time too?
‘Even if I heard it with my own ears this time…’
But that fleeting doubt was immediately erased by what Dernick said next.
“That’s right, I was invited to Lady Classie’s house on December 7th. At eleven in the morning. Are you free then? Want to come with me?”
December 7th, 11 a.m.—the very time Classie had asked to meet Kishin. His expression turned icy cold.
‘So it really is two-timing.’
“No. I’m busy that day. You go and have fun.”
“Oh? That’s too bad.”
“And from now on, I’d prefer it if you didn’t mention Lady Kalashi to me. I’m not interested.”
December 6th.
As usual, Classie was sad for thirty minutes, then recovered. Maybe because it was the second time she’d been rejected by Kishin, this time no tears came.
She felt hollow, but it didn’t hurt. Around 4 p.m., curiosity began to set in.
‘Why? Why did I get rejected again?’
She took out a sheet of paper and wrote down everything that had happened on her second date with Kishin. She tried analyzing it thoroughly.
But no matter how hard she thought about it, she couldn’t understand where it had gone wrong. Sure, she talked to Dernick more, but didn’t Kishin do the same?
Kishin also talked to Dernick more. There was no helping it—Dernick just talked a lot.
‘Romance is hard.’
After thinking about it for a long while with no answers, she crumpled up the paper and threw it in the trash.
‘Whatever. There are plenty of men out there. Somewhere, there’s a man who’ll marry me. Besides, Lord Kishin might be handsome, but he’s way too prickly.’
Fully recovered, Classie suddenly became curious about Merran’s situation. Had Dernick accepted the invitation?
During dinner, she asked Merran. Maybe because she had already confessed her feelings to Classie, Merran readily answered.
“Of course he said he’d come. Lord Dernick is kind and gentle.”
“He seemed a bit eccentric, though.”
“That’s just his personality. As long as he’s kind to me, that’s all that matters.”
“Well… as long as you’re happy.”
Merran was clearly in high spirits. Just like she said, this time she seemed genuinely interested in Dernick himself, regardless of Classie.
It looked like Merran was finally starting her first love.
Looking at her cute niece, her cheeks flushed more than usual, Classie thought of her older sister and felt a pang in her heart.
Mary had been like that too, before marrying Marquis Omel. But Marquis Omel had secretly been in love with a woman of lower status.
No noble parents would ever approve a marriage below their station. So the Marquis had married Mary Kalashi, the eldest daughter of an earl, in order to inherit the family fortune and title.
And when Mary died, he married his true love, Alice. Now, that woman lived proudly as the Marchioness of Omel and was enjoying a happy life.
Classie hesitated before saying,
“If Lord Dernick really is a good person, be sure to ask what family he belongs to.”
Merran gave her a strange look for a moment, then smiled.
“Got it. I will. Auntie, help me pick my outfit later, okay?”
December 7th.
Merran woke up early, ate just a few bites of salad for breakfast, and began getting ready.
This was unusual. Even when going to parties, she normally dressed with minimal effort. Confident in her looks no matter what she wore, she knew she would always stand out even in plain clothes.
But when she put in real effort, the result was blinding—like a flower in full bloom.
Her older sister had been the same. Whenever Mary appeared at a party or gathering, every noble young man would flock to her, completely entranced.
“You’re pretty.”
Classie mumbled, her throat tightening as she gently touched Merran’s hair, which looked fuller than usual.
“Auntie, come on. It’s not even a wedding. Why are you getting all emotional?”
Merran blushed and pinched Classie’s waist. Anna’s eyes welled up as she was reminded of Classie’s youth and when Mary was still a young lady.
The pleasant atmosphere turned slightly tense as the clock struck 10 a.m.
“Auntie, where are you going today?”
Merran, now fully dressed, asked in a tone that emphasized, ‘You’re not staying home, are you?’
“I told you, I’m going out with a friend.”
Classie replied glumly, the memory of being rejected by Kishin resurfacing.
“Florence?”
“Yeah.”
Florence disliked Merran, and the feeling was mutual. In other words, even if Classie used Florence’s name, Merran wouldn’t be able to confirm it with her.
Merran pouted and returned to her room.
Classie changed into her outing clothes and got on a carriage around 10:30.
But she didn’t go to Florence’s house.
Instead, she headed to the grand theater beside Driblu Plaza. There was a play popular among young noblemen lately. Classie intended to people-watch and see who had come to watch it.
‘If I happen to meet someone nice, great. If not, at least I’ll enjoy the play.’
Because it was such a trending performance, most tickets were sold out, but luckily, she managed to get one of the worst seats in the special section.
Classie bought the ticket and a drink, then headed up the stairs. The third floor was even more crowded than the lower ones, full of nobles and their attendants.
However, once inside the viewing area, the seats were spacious, and she didn’t mind it. Even if she could only see half the stage.
It was 11:30 a.m. by then.
‘Merran must’ve met with Sir Dernick by now.’
Classie sipped her drink as she thought this.
Bringing a drink had been a good call. Once the play started, it turned out that the part of the stage she could see was barely used by the actors.
She ended up mostly listening to the dialogue and savoring the taste of her drink.
When intermission came, Classie got up to buy another drink. Around her, others were either sending attendants for snacks or getting up themselves.
Just as she reached the exit, someone called out to her.
“Excuse me.”
She turned around to see a rather cute young man. His face turned red as he asked,
“Are you here alone?”
Classie’s eyes quickly scanned his hand. No wedding ring. Judging by his clothes, he seemed like a noble. In other words, a potential marriage candidate.
She smiled charmingly and asked in return,
“And why do you want to know?”
The young man blushed even more and scratched his cheek.
“I passed by you earlier. It was just for a moment, but you stuck in my mind. I couldn’t forget you. Is this what they call love at first sight?”
Classie covered half her mouth with her hand and smiled coyly, pretending to be shy.
“You sure know how to talk.”
“N-No, not at all. I just gathered up all my courage to speak to you.”
Classie hesitated as if debating something, then said,
“I came alone. I haven’t lived here long, so I don’t have many friends to hang out with.”
Her voice was soft and friendly as she slightly shifted her posture—until she suddenly froze.
Among a group of guards stood Kishin in uniform, eyes narrowed as he stared right at her.
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