Chapter 23

As if she had finished what she came to do.

“It seems Your Grace truly didn’t get a single piece.”

She used my chef, my estate’s oven, and all the tools in this place, yet not a single bite was meant for me.

Seeing her so naturally nestled among my people without a trace of awkwardness was absurd.

As if I didn’t exist in that world at all.

One by one, the knights laid their handkerchiefs across the dirt-covered ground.

These were the very same handkerchiefs that noble ladies from the territory had given them in gratitude—though more often with hidden intentions—each time the knights completed a mission.

I wonder if those women know how their handkerchiefs are being used now.

The woman took a seat atop those layers and smiled.

The knights were sitting around her, eating bread, full of praise.

And that damned heart-shaped pastry entered my vision like some instinctive animal reaction.

It’s pathetic, how childish I am, dwelling on something like this at my age.
How I sat there practically drooling like a dog over a single piece of bread.

So what if she handed out scraps of bread—or pieces of her heart—to others?

Why does that matter?

I must’ve become some petty bastard who can’t stand to see my beloved comrades happy.

To an outsider, it would look like I got rejected by her.

I, who firmly declared it was a simple employer-employee relationship, now look utterly ridiculous.

Can’t even handle being excluded from a damn piece of bread.
Disgraceful to the core.

But you know what? If I’m going to be disgraceful, I might as well see how far I can take it.

As I stood up, Jayden quickly followed behind.

“Please don’t make her cry again, Your Grace.”

He had been enjoying provoking me just moments ago, and now he was pretending to be concerned. So typically old-man of him.

Of course, his concern isn’t really for her.

He’s more worried that I’ll end up dying alone in the North, never having married. That’s the kind of man Jayden has always been.

“When did I ever make her cry?”

Jayden, already no longer listening to a word I said, kept going.

“Your Grace hasn’t loved a woman before, so you wouldn’t understand how it feels.”

“If you’re going, just say one thing.”

Lowering his voice as if passing along a secret message, Jayden looked delighted.

The more annoyed I got, the more joy he seemed to take in it.

* * *

The reaction to the financiers was, fortunately, very positive.

Just as Chef John had said, these men clearly had legendary stomachs.

After devouring enough for two people each and polishing off every last financier—made in what she thought was a generous quantity—they still looked unsatisfied.

It made her wonder if the Grand Duke had been starving them and making them train nonstop for days.

“I’ve never tasted something that melts in my mouth like this.”

“I swear it was here just a moment ago, but it’s gone!”

The noisy chatter wasn’t unpleasant. Even the over-the-top praise was starting to feel manageable.

“Chef John helped me a lot with them.”

“That can’t be true. Chef’s pastries don’t taste this good!”

“He’ll be heartbroken if he hears you say that.”

But the buzz didn’t stop, as if they couldn’t care less about that concern.

“There’s definitely some angel dust sprinkled on this.”

“I never knew bread could taste this good.”

Just like the so-called “Angel Knight,” they had a cheeky side.

The captain had told them several times that these were called financiers, not “bread,” but the knights continued referring to them collectively as “bread,” united in their stubbornness.

Whether it was called a financier or a macaron seemed utterly irrelevant to them.

Judging by their reactions, even if she had handed them roughly baked white bread, they would’ve said the same things.

“But… who’s this heart-shaped one for?”

“Ah…”

In the basket she thought had been emptied, the lone heart-shaped pastry sat untouched.

She had assumed someone would casually take it without realizing—but clearly, she’d underestimated the knights’ eyesight.

The single heart, which John had misunderstood and crafted on his own, had sparked precisely the kind of misunderstanding she’d feared.

‘To be honest, if I had to give it to someone, I was going to give it to Netir, the Angel Knight…’

But he wasn’t here today.

He had gone on an expedition to hunt monsters.

Ever since that temperamental Grand Duke found her at the training ground, he had apparently reassigned Netir elsewhere.

‘No way… would this be connected to me?’

Impossible. He probably saw her as no more significant than a speck of dust. Just a delusion, clearly.

But all those complicated thoughts were quickly drowned out by the intense stares surrounding her.

The fully grown knights gazed at her with sparkling eyes, like servants hoping to be chosen.

And no wonder. It wasn’t a simple cookie—she had used a special mold to make a heart-shaped financier, which took real effort and time.

There was only one of them.

Inside it was Chef John’s entire romantic imagination, lovingly poured into one pastry.

It was shaped so uniquely and stood out so much that it captivated everyone’s attention, exactly as the baker intended.

It would be almost ridiculous to insist now that it hadn’t been made with that sort of intention.

“We’ll turn around so you’re not embarrassed.”

A knight who seemed to be a senior member turned around first, and one by one, the others followed, pausing their snacking to turn away.

Among them, only one man ignored it all and did as he pleased.

A handsome man with silver hair, annoyingly so.

She didn’t want to admit he was good-looking, but with his tall figure, flowing long hair, and strikingly sculpted features—there was no denying it.

He sat beneath a tree with a thick trunk, ignoring everyone around him like he lived in a world of his own.

As if he weren’t even a member of the knight order.

With a disgruntled expression, he stood up and belatedly joined the group.

The look in his eyes as he glanced at his comrades practically screamed: How ridiculous.

To put it nicely, he seemed like someone with strong convictions.
To put it plainly, he was a weirdo.

A weirdo who didn’t care about fitting in with the group he belonged to—someone who simply went his own way.

He showed up late, and yet, for someone arriving late, his movements were quick, so his subtle defiance didn’t stand out too much.

Perhaps that’s why even the captain didn’t point it out.
Or maybe he just chose to ignore it.

Only then did the moment of selection begin.

They said they’d turn around to ease the pressure, but somehow, that made things even more uncomfortable.

It was all too easy to picture the kind of atmosphere that would follow once she made her choice.

So her decision was made quickly.

“This one.”

The knights, who had turned their backs so nobly, now quickly spun back around as if questioning why they had bothered in the first place.

From the highest-ranked down, they all turned back and studied her, clearly disappointed.

All except for the one weirdo who’d been chosen.

Everyone else looked stunned, but at the call of “Alright, applause!” they eagerly clapped anyway.

They found their smiles again in no time—so easily pleased, so simple.

Soon after, a loud cheer erupted into the air. As expected, the mood had shifted entirely in that direction.

Knights who seemed completely unreadable at a glance were now laughing, cheering, and shouting like nothing had ever fazed them.

From afar, they looked intimidating beyond reason, but up close, they were unexpectedly warm and human.

Thankfully, it wasn’t as overwhelming as she’d feared.

The so-called weirdo who had been chosen looked, as expected, completely unfazed.

When he saw the heart-shaped pastry in her hand, his expression turned to one of disbelief.
Looking closer, it was actually twisted in something close to disgust.

For a second, she wondered if she was imagining it. But… was he really that repulsed by her?
It was the first time someone so openly showed such dislike.

Usually, if someone brought you a heart-shaped pastry saying they liked you, even if you didn’t feel the same, you’d at least smile once.

A dry, scoffing laugh brushed her ear. His face was clearly mocking her.

Come to think of it, he had always looked like that.

Every time they met, he was cold. And today, he even looked downright annoyed.

Of course, the financiers weren’t made for him specifically, but still—it was a bit much.

Was it really something to laugh at, just because she came here with a basket of pastries?

He ate one, too.

His behavior was just like the Grand Duke’s. Maybe he was acting this way because he seemed to be the Grand Duke’s favorite.

Speaking to him was a bit of an impulsive move.

“Do I really bother you that much?”