6.
“First, we’ll circle the continent and then head to the capital. We’re going to find the Demon King.”
“The Demon King? That sounds like something out of a hero’s journey.”
“We might find some clues while we’re searching.”
Hero Marigold.
It was a canonical ending, after all.
“And I want to take you to my homeland too…”
Marigold’s territory, burned to ashes.
‘Now that I think about it, I’ve never been there before.’
The land steeped in all of Marigold’s memories and grudges.
The territory of the count’s family, vanished from the map overnight.
“This is going to be a long journey.”
“It’ll be over faster than you think.”
.
.
.
When they returned to the campsite, the game they had hunted earlier was already sizzling over the fire.
“What kept you so long?” Viscount Dante called out to Lancel with a sly grin.
“I just went to wash up,” Lancel replied.
“Something must have happened to warrant a wash.”
“I was just hunting a bit vigorously.”
“Don’t try to weasel out of it. We all know what happened.”
Marigold kept her head bowed, her hand clutching Lancel’s collar.
As Lancel sat by the bonfire, a sudden curiosity struck him.
“Marigold.”
“Yes, Sir Lancel?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever asked you this before. What were you doing alone before you came here?”
“Well… let’s just say I was preparing to become someone worthy of you, Sir Lancel.”
To Lancel, it had only been three years, but for Marigold, it was a different story.
It took her a staggering eight years to open her eyes and seek him out.
Eight years.
That was no short time.
What kind of time had it been, those eight years spent thinking of only one person? What had happened during that time?
Lancel always resented the five years he couldn’t interfere with.
For Marigold, those five years must have been excruciatingly lonely. Thrown into the world without any support, she had to survive entirely on her own. A 10-year-old fallen noble was far too vulnerable to endure such isolation.
‘How could a 10-year-old fallen noble girl survive and become an Empress? The game needs to make sense!’
Lancel could only inwardly curse the person responsible for all this.
“It was alright,” Marigold said, hugging her knees as she gazed into the bonfire. “Actually, it was quite alright. Though it was tough at times. But we finally met like this, didn’t we?”
“…Yeah.”
“Heh heh.”
“Get your hand off me.”
“Ehehehe.”
Lancel still couldn’t fathom how she had spent eight years alone.
‘Marigold, who woke up in the body of a 10-year-old, having lost her family, home, friends, and status… Eight years…’
As he pondered the weight of those words…
“Haah!”
The Dante family members, brimming with vitality, clashed wooden swords against each other.
Having finally eaten some meat, they seemed unable to contain the surging calories and male hormones.
“Let’s see what you’ve got after all this time, you bastard!”
“Don’t forget who won last time.”
The arena instantly filled with the rough breathing of shirtless men and the groans that erupted as their sticks clashed.
Naturally, Viscount Dante and his eldest and second sons were among the sweat-soaked men.
“Hahaha! Come at me, you bastards! All at once!”
Only Lancel remained aloof, standing far apart as if unwilling to join the fray.
“Lancel!”
Kyle Dante’s voice exploded at that very moment.
“It’s been a while since I put some bruises on your body. Get up!”
“……”
There was an inexplicable resentment in his tone.
“I didn’t like you bragging about your fine wife. I’ll carve some chivalry into your body again, just
like old times. A nice, deep blue this time.”
“Brother… is Lady Dunk still avoiding you these days?”
“…Why are you suddenly bringing up my fiancée?”
Kyle seemed caught off guard.
“Exactly! Didn’t I warn you not to be fooled by her looks?”
“Shut up!”
Lady Dunk, Kyle’s fiancée, was a woman of exceptional beauty, but she was also known throughout the Empire as a precious daughter.
Every time they met, the thought of what his life would have been like if he had married her made the hair on his body stand on end.
Lady Iceford, from a noble family, might have been a better match in that regard.
“Anyway, grab your wooden sword and come out.”
There was no way to back down now.
“You’re such a pain, really. Give me a break.”
As he scratched his head and tried to stand up, Marigold grabbed his shoulder and rose in his place, picking up the wooden sword that had fallen to the floor.
“May I step in instead, Kyle Dante?” she asked, tossing off her outer coat and cloak. Beneath, a sturdy blouse and leather trousers were revealed, perfectly accentuating her well-toned physique. Sleek curves framed muscles that supported her body with graceful strength, drawing quiet gasps of admiration from the maids.
“It’s been a while since I last sparred, and I’ve lost my edge… More importantly! I want to prove I belong in the Dante family! Please allow me, Kyle Dante. Viscount Dante.”
All eyes turned to Marigold. A fierce glint sparkled in her eyes.
“After all, I’m a member of the Dante family now!”
7.
Interfering in a knight’s duel was generally considered inappropriate. Marigold’s intervention between Lancel and Kyle, viewed through the lens of chivalric sensibilities, was far from proper.
Yet no one tried to stop them, likely because they all shared the same curiosity: to see Marigold’s skills for themselves.
“I’m fine with it. Does father approve?”
“Why are you asking me? This is your business. My knees are aching, so I’ll just watch.”
Viscount Dante shrugged, and Kyle Dante chuckled.
“He says that’s fine.”
Sensing the mood, the servants quietly retreated.
In an instant, only Marigold and Kyle Dante remained in the center of the clearing.
“Just so you know, from the moment you draw your sword, I’ll treat you as a knight. If you expect any leniency, back down now. But if you’re still willing, I’ll gladly spar with you.”
“Yes! That’s exactly what I want.”
“Very well. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
In the minds of the onlookers, the outcome had already been decided: Kyle.
The second son of the Dante family, he might not look it, but he was a knight whose skills had already been recognized through numerous minor battles on the frontier.
If he wished, he could join any Knight Order immediately, except for the Imperial Knight Order.
In contrast, Marigold was just a young female knight, barely eighteen and newly of age.
Debating who would win if they fought was pointless. Not a single person would even make a bet.
This was truly a contest between an adult and a child…
Clang!
“Huh?”
In the very first clash, Kyle’s wooden sword flew into the air.
Spinning wildly, the sword plunged into the ground at the edge of the field.
It was Kyle Dante, not Marigold, who now stood empty-handed.
“…?”
A wave of disbelief washed over the onlookers.
“H-he lost? Young Master Kyle?”
“Th-that can’t be… right?”
The moment had passed so quickly that no one could react.
Marigold had barely shifted her foot before disarming her opponent in a single, swift motion.
That was all it took.
Kyle Dante stood frozen, staring at his empty hands, utterly unable to offer any resistance.
“Foolish boy,” Viscount Dante clicked his tongue. “You let your guard down and paid the price. How many times have I warned you not to underestimate your opponent?”
“Ahem.”
Kyle Dante, his face flushed crimson, retrieved the fallen wooden sword.
“I-I made a mistake, Marigold. Let’s try again. We didn’t even say we were starting yet, did we?”
“How pathetic, Kyle Dante.”
Lancel merely smiled bitterly as he listened to his own brother’s pathetic request.
“You’re okay with this, right?” Kyle asked.
No one voiced any objections.
In truth, few had yet grasped what had actually happened.
It genuinely seemed like Kyle had simply let his guard down and made a mistake.
“Tsk, tsk.”
Only Viscount Dante and Leo Dante, glaring at Kyle with displeasure, had recognized the truth of the stark difference between Marigold and Kyle Dante’s skill. There was no denying the outcome of the duel.
“Understood! I request another match!”
With Marigold’s consent, the two faced off again.
This time, Kyle Dante had fully sharpened his senses. He still believed his earlier defeat was due to carelessness.
“Hoo…”
Kyle Dante slowly composed himself, taking deep breaths to steady his nerves.
As he calculated the distance closing between him and Marigold with each step, his body suddenly moved with lightning speed.
“Now!”
The wooden sword sliced through the air, hurtling toward her.
He intended to strike first, giving Marigold no chance to react.
Just as the blade, having closed the distance to within a few meters, was about to plunge into the nape of her neck…
‘…?!’
Marigold’s figure flickered, then vanished like an illusion.
“Hup!”
Kyle Dante belatedly noticed her skillfully maneuvering to his flank.
Clang!
With a crisp sound, the blade rebounded once more.
“…Damn it…!”
The wooden sword hurtled toward Kyle Dante’s now-defenseless body.
“Ugh!”
He frantically arched his upper body backward, but it was already too late.
The wooden sword stopped precisely in front of his neck.
Silence hung in the air, unbroken by even a breath.
“Thank you for the match, Sir Kyle Dante,” Marigold’s bright voice echoed softly through the stillness.
8.
“To spar with the fiancée herself…”
“And even win…”
Marigold glanced around at the stunned faces, a hint of embarrassment coloring her cheeks.
Viscount Dante spoke as she tied back her sweat-free hair.
“Excellent, Mary Mary. I’m proud to have you in our family.”
“Thank you, father!” Marigold’s face lit up.
“I knew from the moment I saw you that our Mary was no ordinary girl. What are you waiting for, Kyle? Accept your defeat and show her proper respect.”
“Yes, father.”
Kyle Dante, who had collapsed to the ground, rose with a bitter expression.
“I concede.”
Kyle Dante retreated silently.
“Lady Mary, may I ask who taught you swordsmanship?”
The question came from Leo Dante, the eldest son.
Marigold hesitated for a moment before glancing at Lancel.
“I learned from a local instructor and then continued practicing on my own until I met my Master…”
“Master?”
The title stirred a nostalgic warmth in Lancel’s heart.
Master. The word that Warrior Marigold had used to address him.
For a moment, the image of Marigold from their days together on the battlefield flickered through his mind—even the words she had spoken when she first sought him out as a maid working at an inn.
“I humbly request a match with you, Sir Lancel Dante!”
The Marigold of that time, who once challenged him to a duel with bold eyes.
“Huh?”
“Please grant me a match!”
Marigold’s burning gaze locked onto Lancel.
“Lady Mary… to Young Master Lancel?”
“But she just fought in his place as his fiancée…?”
“Is this a marital spat?”
Amidst the bewildered murmurs of the crowd, only Marigold’s eyes blazed with unwavering intensity.
