Chapter 5

The carriage rattled briefly as it crossed a gravel path. Archie McFoy, who had been silently gazing out the window, tightened his arms slightly around Antoinette, asleep in his lap, ensuring she wasn’t startled. Despite being a black beast, the creature was still small enough to fit snugly in the boy’s embrace.

The carriage soon returned to a smooth dirt road, and the shaking subsided.

“Erika.”

Archie spoke then, his gaze still fixed outside the window.

“Aunt Ophelia, or rather, the future Lady of Diazi… what’s she like?”

His voice held a depth unusual for his age, and Erika, seated across from him, blinked at the question.

Having recently turned fourteen, the young heir had been growing rapidly over the past year. Last winter, the top of his head had barely reached his aunt’s chin; now, it nearly reached her eyebrows. Considering his parents were both tall, it wasn’t surprising.

His father, Ayno, had been an especially imposing figure. Though Aisa had left an impression among the nobility as the “small McFoy,” the family had once been synonymous with strength and stature. In that sense, Aisa was the anomaly. After all, the tales of the witch from the west towering over mercenaries didn’t arise without reason.

Erika opened her mouth to answer, thinking about how children seemed to grow by the day.

“Well…”

She had assumed his unusual calmness stemmed from nerves over handling his first solo duty. Now, it seemed he was more concerned about meeting Ophelia.

“She’ll win you over, I’m sure,” Erika reassured him.

“How can you be so certain?”

How, indeed? Erika barely suppressed a laugh as she met his curious violet eyes.

“Because you’re a McFoy, young master.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

This time, Erika couldn’t hold back and let out a small chuckle. The boy shot her an annoyed glance.

Composing herself, Erika replied with the professional tone of a true McFoy aide.

“My personal opinions and impressions of her won’t matter. As your aunt said, young master, you’ll have to decide for yourself after meeting her.”

No hints, then. Archie scowled, turning his head back toward the window. He recalled the words his aunt Aisa had shared with him before he left.

* * *

“If you visit the small villages in the territory,” she had begun.

At first, he thought it was another one of her long lectures.

“There’s a folktale that taking in a golden-haired orphan will bring ruin to the village. It sounds ancient, but it’s only been around for less than ten years.”

Soon enough, he realized it was about the collapse of McFoy.

“Considering everyone’s circumstances can be endless. And you only know what you’ve been told.”

Ophelia. To Archie, she was both a despised figure, a symbol of misfortune, and the savior of his life and that of his only remaining family.

“So, meet her and decide for yourself. That’s the right thing to do.”

The fourteen-year-old couldn’t figure out how to approach Ophelia. He wished someone would simply tell him what to do, as with his lessons in noble conduct.

“Of course, you’ll know to show her proper respect when you meet her. After all, she’s soon to be the Lady of Diazi.”

But his resolute aunt had insisted that as the future lord, he should judge for himself. She had spread her arms wide for a parting hug, a gesture as commanding as it was awkward.

Fourteen was an age for contemplating the meaning of life and one’s place in it, and Archie, more sensitive than most his age, had hesitated.

But her raised brow, as if to ask why he wasn’t gratefully accepting the honor of her embrace, made him step forward, letting her enfold him. The height difference was so small now that it felt more like a mutual hug.

“And this is a personal request,” she had said then.

His aunt had slipped a folded note into his hand.

“Don’t hand this off to someone else. Give it to her yourself.”

The expectation in her violet eyes, mingled with an unusual hint of nervousness, had made him nod unconsciously.

Now, Archie’s hand moved instinctively to his pocket, fingers brushing against the note Aisa had given him.

“Win me over? Is that even possible?”

Archie had lived without parents, and even as a child, he rarely had peers. Nyx’s black hand had spared no one, child or adult.

Though at the center of that tragedy, Archie, swaddled in a stiff blanket, remembered nothing. The screams, the metallic tang of blood, the sight of scattered body parts—it was all secondhand knowledge, beyond his ability to truly grasp.

Everyone had their burdens, their deeply rooted sorrows. Archie had glimpsed such a depth three years ago when his aunt left for the capital during the Founding Festival and didn’t return for a long time.

The terror he had felt during that year, when he had to leave McFoy without her, was incomparable. Sadness, resentment, and rage had overwhelmed his small body, spilling out uncontrollably.

He couldn’t help but blame Ophelia. If only she hadn’t existed, none of this would have happened. Why should his family suffer because of her?

But, in the end, she had saved his aunt. The reason he was alive as an infant was because she had carried him.

“Complicated. So complicated. I almost wish I’d never have to meet her.”

Just then, Antoinette stirred in his lap, letting out a soft purr. He realized he had unconsciously tightened his grip on her.

“Oh no, Antoinette, did I wake you? Sorry.”

Archie murmured, smoothing his expression as he lifted the small beast. Her mysterious eyes, a mix of blue and violet, gleamed as they met his.

Her gaze was uncannily similar to his aunt’s.

“Aunt, what am I supposed to do? What if I hate her at first sight? Can I just… hate her freely?”

Archie sighed softly as he stared at Antoinette.

Erika, watching him unconsciously seek answers from the young panther, nearly burst into laughter again. She could see the boy unconsciously treating Antoinette as if she were the McFoy head.

To stifle her amusement, Erika bit the inside of her lip and turned to the window. The lush, green forest beyond the glass grew denser as they neared the eastern border.

* * *

The pure white cloaks symbolized the proud confidence of the Diazi Knights. On the expansive green plain before the castle gates, the knights in their white cloaks stood in perfect formation, a spectacle worthy of admiration.

Occasionally, a breeze would blow, cooling the heat and causing the white cloaks and navy banners to flutter in unison. Aside from that, the scene was motionless, like a colossal sculpture. What they were awaiting was none other than the arrival of the McFoy heir’s procession.

“…”

Standing at the very front of the line, Penny Solace cast her gaze toward the fidgety figure of Ophelia, the future Lady of Diazi, who stood beside Nicholas. Recently, several of Diazi’s guards had been assigned to Ophelia, Penny included.

Thanks to her tall stature and the hood she often wore, it was difficult to discern her gender at a glance. Known for her short, blue-tinged black hair and pale blue eyes reminiscent of glacial peaks, Penny was a striking figure among the knights. Before Ophelia’s arrival, she had been the only female knight in the order.

In a low voice, Penny muttered, “Is the McFoy heir really that difficult to please?”

“Would we greet a great noble heir carelessly, Sir Solace? Though, I must admit, our future Lady does seem to be going to great lengths,” replied Jack Bains, standing stoically beside her. He had long since resigned himself to being Ophelia’s crisis management officer.

“He’s the McFoy Head’s nephew. Does he look like her?”

Penny asked again, her tone hinting at curiosity. Like her talkative brother Von, she wasn’t one to keep her thoughts to herself.

“I saw him from a distance before. If you didn’t know, you’d believe he was the son of his uncle, not the McFoy Head. Now hush, Penny,” Jack whispered, bringing a finger to his lips. Despite his gruff demeanor, Jack was far too kind and often found himself the subject of Penny and Ophelia’s playful teasing.

Ignoring his warning, Penny pressed on, “If he takes after the Norton head, he must be as stunning as a fairy.”

“That’s true,” Jack agreed with a nod.

“Well, let’s hope he doesn’t share her personality. If he’s anything like her, he’ll bare his teeth and charge at our lord like a madman the moment he sees her.”

Penny shuddered, recalling the image of a petite noblewoman sinking her teeth into her master’s arm—a humiliation born of underestimating an opponent. Jack, who had been present for that debacle, empathized deeply.

“That day… it truly felt like facing a wild beast.”

“Not a large predator like a leopard, but one of those smaller, fiercer ones. It was exactly like that.”

“Hmm…”

Jack couldn’t help but hum in reluctant agreement at Penny’s vivid description of Aisa McFoy.

At that moment, a faint tremor began to rise from the ground. Soon, the distant sound of horse hooves and the clatter of wheels grew louder.

The McFoy delegation, led by Archie McFoy, had arrived a week before the Diazi lord’s wedding.

* * *

The knights, pretending to look ahead, couldn’t help but notice the McFoy heir as he stepped out of the carriage.

Wow. He doesn’t look like her at all.

While some were surprised by Archie’s gentle demeanor, which starkly contrasted with the McFoy Head, Ophelia was struck silent for another reason.

‘Right… The last time I saw you, you were a year younger than this.’

She couldn’t take her eyes off Archie, who had grown considerably.

“…Ma’am?”

When Ophelia didn’t respond to his greeting and simply stared, Archie tilted his head, puzzled.

“You’ve grown so much, young master,” she finally said, completely ignoring protocol.

For a moment, Archie wondered if this was some new trend in noble power games. He soon realized her intentions and regarded her warily, as though to figure her out.

Of course, calling her beautiful would be an understatement. But what other words could he use?

It was a shock, akin to the first time he met his uncle and found himself trembling. This time, however, thanks to his uncle, he had built an immunity to beauty and managed not to shake like a fool.

‘Her eyes are so blue and big. They sparkle so much. How does someone look like that?’

It’s the most beautiful golden hair I’ve ever seen.

Archie’s violet eyes, betraying his intentions, began to lower their guard as they stared at Ophelia.

Noticing his defenses weaken, Ophelia carefully stepped closer, one cautious step at a time.

“Young master…”

Ophelia was tall, and the last time she had seen Archie, his head barely reached her chest. Now, he was surprisingly close to reaching her chin.

Just once. I want to hug him just once.

Luckily, the boy didn’t flinch or shy away. Ophelia gathered her courage again.

“May I… hug you just once—”

But before she could finish, the small creature in Archie’s arms stirred.

In an instant, Ophelia’s bright blue eyes met the large violet eyes of the tiny being.

“Graaaah!”

Antoinette leapt into the air like a spring.