Chapter 68
Declan was completely serious, tone so grave that you’d think he was pledging to commit treason.
But the only thing he asked was whether he could see Estira. He still hadn’t freed himself from her.
“…Yes. Well… there’s no reason you can’t. Although, the Duke won’t be happy about it.”
“Then, can I marry her if I want?”
“You’re even thinking about marriage? Honestly, I’d advise against it. You do realize how rare it is for nobles to marry commoners, right…?”
“I asked if I can.”
In the dim light of dawn, Declan’s appearance resembled the grim reaper on the battlefield. Clovin, caught up in the overwhelming atmosphere that made it hard to breathe, swallowed dryly and nodded slowly.
“Well… it will be difficult. There will be a lot of opposition. Even as a duke, you can’t just handle something like marriage on your own…”
“That’s enough. Just keep your promise to inform me of Estira’s whereabouts regularly.”
“…Sorry, what?”
“Assign more people to keep me updated on her, every little detail.”
Good grief.
To give such an order so casually. How is he just like his father? Is this really the same boy who just recently shed his slave status?
Clovin shuddered again at the thought, shaking his head as he rubbed his arms. Unaware of the impression he was leaving on Clovin, Declan remained focused on the shattered practice post in front of him.
“Replace the post.”
Despite the cold command, Declan’s heart was in turmoil.
“Apparently, this woman is heading toward the Eastern Continent. She should be arriving at the ducal estate soon.”
It was Estira’s travel route, as reported by Clovin, that disturbed him.
She had left his side, rushing off to the Eastern Continent.
Declan, who had spent years as a slave in an underground mine on the Eastern Continent, had no fond memories of the place. It was a barbaric land, inhabited by tribes clinging to outdated superstitions and far behind in civilization.
Why would she want to go there?
None of it made sense. During the weeks they had spent together, his master had never once mentioned wanting to go to the Eastern Continent.
“……”
Declan reflected on the moments he’d spent with Estira two months ago. Then, suddenly, something clicked, and he blinked in realization. The wooden sword he was holding fell limply to the ground.
Now that he thought about it… she had never revealed her true intentions, not even once.
She always dismissed things as a secret and never even hinted at her real identity.
“……”
Declan stared at the wooden sword lying on the ground and opened his calloused hands.
After a month of grueling training, his hands were torn and rough. But such injuries had never bothered him—as a slave, he had endured far worse. Yet now, those scars seemed to hurt.
Or was it his heart that hurt?
‘Was I really just used so Master could collect a reward?’
Had she never cared for him, even for a moment?
Declan picked up the fallen wooden sword and swung it wildly. Owen, watching nearby, moved to intervene, but Clovin grabbed his pinky finger to stop him.
“Whoa, don’t go near him. You’ll end up dead.”
It wasn’t a joke—the vicious swishing of the sword echoed through the training grounds, making it clear.
Owen sighed. Sword training shouldn’t be an outlet for his frustration.
While Declan had listened to everything his sword instructor, Owen, said, he had completely ignored the advice not to take out his anger on the practice posts.
Clovin had dropped a hint, saying something about Declan being betrayed by someone. If his reason for learning swordsmanship was fueled by that betrayal, Owen knew he had to set him straight.
Just as Owen was about to approach Declan with a sense of duty, Duke Dezerethh, appeared beside him, watching from afar.
“Your Grace.”
Owen greeted, standing beside the Duke.
“The Young Master has already mastered the basics. By next week, he’ll be ready to learn the imperial swordsmanship.”
“Is that so?”
Dezerethh muttered softly, though his expression was far from that of a proud father.
When Owen glanced at him curiously, Dezerethh sighed.
“Swordsmanship… it’s good to be skilled, but I wonder how his heart is.”
Owen, as a father himself, remained silent, understanding the duke’s concern for his inscrutable son.
“If my late wife had been here, perhaps Declan would have opened up more.”
The duke’s voice carried the scent of sorrow, and Owen’s eyes darted, searching for words.
Just then, Clovin’s cheerful voice cut through the moment.
“Oh, I don’t think that would’ve helped either.”
Owen’s eyes widened in shock, not knowing where to look next.
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