“What illness is this?”
“Hard to say.”
It was a difficult question—made all the more complicated by the fact that she’d chosen to compare Her Grace, h
er Highness the Consort
.
Hadn’t she already scared him half to death not long ago by sleeping so soundly, it looked like she was dead?
Benson’s expression stiffened as he answered, almost reflexively.
“Her Highness is perfectly healthy, so please don’t say things like that elsewhere. It could cause serious misunderstandings.”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than Catherine shot him a resentful glare.
“And here I thought you told me to be honest.”
“Still, you can’t go comparing people to Her Highness.”
Was she talking about a parent? A sibling?
Benson racked his brain, trying to recall Catherine’s family situation—but by the time he opened his mouth again, she had already stormed off.
“Well then…”
No wonder she was so attached to the Grand Duchess. Was she projecting someone else onto her?
Benson couldn't hide the troubled look on his face.
Ione’s grueling journey had apparently become common knowledge, quietly spreading through the estate thanks to Benson’s loose tongue.
Everywhere she went, people treated her with an almost excessive level of concern. Before she knew it, staying in her room had become her default way of life.
Catherine, her personal maid, was especially over the top.
If Ione so much as sat up in bed, Catherine would run to her side to offer support.
“Your Grace, please don’t push yourself.”
If the air was even slightly dry and she let out a single cough, Catherine would immediately look on the verge of tears and rush to brew her some tea.
“Would you care for this tea, Your Grace? Nothing works better for coughs. In winter, many homes in Preses drink it like water.”
The worried glint in her eyes pricked at Ione’s conscience, but even when she admitted she was fine, it didn’t seem to register.
Honestly, what was the big deal about teleporting twice?
Okay, it
had
been a lot, and maybe it
had
been a while ago, but she was clearly better now...
She wasn’t a doctor, but she was pretty sure it had just been a bad cold. Her weak southern constitution had simply buckled under the brutal journey and even harsher northern cold.
No one believed her, though—so she eventually stopped trying to explain.
Honestly, she’d been wondering how to avoid socializing anyway. With everyone fussing over her, it was the perfect excuse.
Thanks to that, Ione enjoyed a few blissfully quiet days.
Until Seton showed up, that is.
“His Grace has assigned me to act as your escort, Your Grace.”
Why would he make such a merciless decision?
Ione barely managed to swallow the words before they escaped, and offered a polite smile instead.
“I’m really fine as I am.”
“Staying cooped up inside will only weaken your health. Even Dr. Benson recommends regular walks. You need physical strength before you can do anything else.”
That last line made it clear—Seton, too, had joined the ranks of the overprotective.
A walk with a mage who didn’t even like her... the thought alone gave her indigestion.
She didn’t want to get involved with him, but avoiding him outright would only raise suspicion.
“Allow me to escort you, Your Grace.”
In the end, Ione had no choice but to take Seton’s outstretched hand.
“Then shall we go out for a short stroll?”
“As you wish.”
Though the Grand Duchess’s chambers had several attached rooms, so it wasn’t as if she felt confined, something about the word
“walk”
stirred a bit of excitement.
Perhaps it was Seton’s surprisingly informative commentary about the estate.
If only she hadn’t kept reminding herself of who her companion was, she might’ve even started humming.
“This path leads to the watchtower.”
Seton pointed toward a narrow stairway, narrower than those elsewhere in the castle.
“There’s a watchtower in the estate?”
“This is a fortress. Of course we need an outpost for emergency scouting.”
“I see... I guess I didn’t think a Grand Duke would need something like that.”
“There’s only one Grand Duke. The knights still need to patrol, don’t they?”
His tone implied a near-blind faith in the Duke—almost to the point of dismissing everyone else as useless.
And honestly, with someone like the Duke around, regular people
would
seem unimpressive.
Just as Ione was trying to brush off the growing pressure in her head, hurried footsteps echoed from behind.
“Your Grace!”
“Catherine?”
“You’re out in this cold?! What if you get sick again? Don’t you think it’s time to wrap up your walk?”
Just when she’d been praying for a way out of this awkward outing—thank the heavens!
Ione flashed an apologetic smile at Seton, her expression saying
“What can I do? She’s worried about me.”
“Then I suppose I’ll head back for now.”
“I’ll prepare some tea for you. Please don’t take too long!”
“Yes, yes. I’ll be right behind you.”
Once Catherine had gone, Ione turned back to Seton to formally end their little walk.
But before she could say anything, Seton muttered under his breath.
“To think you’d even worry about something like that…”
“Something like what?”
“A maid’s feelings. Fascinating, really. In any case, allow me to escort you back.”
Without thinking, Ione avoided his hand. Not out of malice—but instinct.
Maybe it was because he ranked people too easily. Or maybe she was afraid her foreign sensibilities might give her away.
Whatever the case, the reaction clearly irked the mage.
It was only for a second, but the handsome mage’s face twisted into something feral before he gave a tight smile.
“Oh, you noticed that flinch just now? Like I was some kind of insect?”
“That’s not what it was.”
“Then go ahead—take my hand.”
His red eyes glinted with intensity.
If Ione wanted to win his favor—the favor of a character not in the original story—she should’ve taken that hand right away.
But she didn’t want to.
She gently shook her head.
“No need. I can walk just fine on my own.”
“Ah.”
Seton’s smile deepened.
“So this kind of thing appeals to you, Seton?”
Trying to defuse the moment, Ione casually changed the subject and began walking first.
“And His Grace doesn’t like this kind of thing, does he?”
Seton nodded, still smiling.
And just like that, Ione realized what had felt so
off
about him today.
He was being unusually friendly.
Even if he’d become her bodyguard, this was far too sudden a shift in their dynamic.
Sure, she wanted to get close to him, but
not like this
.
“He’s up to something.”
Rather than respond directly to his words, Ione let her silence and smile serve as her answer.
A connection with the Tower Master was a prized asset. Everyone wanted to be on Seton’s good side.
Naturally, they hoped that friendship would bring all sorts of advantages.
So when Seton broke etiquette or spoke too informally, people welcomed it as a sign of closeness.
He had no idea how easy life was for him.
Seton had assumed the Grand Duchess was the same—that she, too, sought his favor.
After all, she hadn’t scolded him for his impolite behavior, and had even accepted his tea invitations despite clearly being uncomfortable.
So why was it, when he tried to get closer, she immediately pulled away?
As if he were some kind of lowlife.
“She’s avoiding me?”
In all his life, no one had dared.
And here he was, now—at her invitation, no less.
“…”
Seton sat silently, one hand pressing against his throbbing temple.
“Surely the maid didn’t only prepare one teacup, right?”
He’d practically begged for the invitation after the Grand Duchess had so obviously wanted nothing to do with him.
Looking back, it was humiliating beyond words—but if given the chance, he’d do it again.
And that realization made it worse.
“The tea’s at the perfect temperature. The aroma’s amazing. How do you keep getting better at this?”
“Oh, Your Grace! That’s too kind.”
“Too kind? Are you calling me a liar?”
“N-not at all, of course not!”
The maid blushed furiously as Ione smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners.
Watching them, Seton scoffed silently to himself.
He’d seen a lot in his life, but this? A Grand Duchess fawning over her maid?
What in the world had the Clarke family taught her?
“The tea seems a bit cool. May I warm it up for you?”
Catherine’s voice was light and cheerful, flushed with pride from all the compliments.
Seton looked up at her slowly and nodded
.
“So you
did
notice the tea was cooling.”
“Of course, my lord. One must never slack when serving someone important.”
Did she not realize how sarcastic he was being?
Or was she just playing dumb?
“A fine attitude to have, Catherine.”
The sneer vanished from his thoughts at Ione’s warm voice.
Seton tilted his head slightly.
The Grand Duchess wore the same kind smile as her voice, gazing at her maid with unmistakable affection and trust.
It was then Seton noticed something else.
Not once, since they’d sat down, had she looked at
him
.
All her attention had been focused on the maid, as if Seton wasn’t even there.
“Ah.”
So that’s what this is.
Seton clenched his jaw, doing his best not to act on the wicked impulse rising inside him.
He wanted—desperately—to cast a spell. Something small. Just enough to make her eyes snap to him and
only
him.
But he held himself back.
Barely.