Chapter 41

“I… um… must I really eat it like this?”

I have hands. And there’s someone else watching us. Smiling awkwardly, Lino attempted to refuse without offending the Duke. However, if Grondil cared about such things, he never would have initiated the gesture in the first place.

“Honestly… I can’t tell if he’s treating you well or just bullying you,” Erin sighed, watching the spectacle.

“Why? Is this not how it’s done?” Grondil demanded, frowning as he persistently prodded Lino’s lips with the spoon.

“That is typically reserved for when a relationship is much further along. Anyone can see your escort knight is so petrified he’s about to shatter.”

“Hmm…”

Grondil made a sound of vague acknowledgment, but ultimately succeeded in prying Lino’s lips apart and shoving the spoon inside. Lino hastily pulled the spoon out himself.

“I-it’s delicious.”

Despite the traumatic delivery method, the flavor was genuinely spectacular. The bizarre dessert, which Lino had been certain would reek of harsh liquor, carried almost zero alcoholic burn. Given the intense, dark green color of the alcohol, he had expected a completely overpowering flavor, but that wasn’t the case at all. Instead, the incredibly rich flavor of the Hambak-snow cow ice cream dominated, allowing the alcohol to merely linger as a subtle, sophisticated bitterness that perfectly balanced the sweet, refreshing finish.

“I’m glad. Then please, enjoy the rest. I need to have a private word with Lord Castillion. Shall we move? The second floor is available,” Erin offered, pointing upwards.

“No, we will discuss it here. To grow closer, one must share secret, intimate circumstances, must they not?”

“……”

As Grondil casually dragged his palm down Lino’s thigh, Lino nearly choked on the delicious fruit he was chewing. The fabric where Grondil’s hand had swept past burned with sudden heat.

“I believe it would be best if I did not hear this. Therefore, I will head up to the second f… No, I will go upstairs. Please, have your discussion here.”

Springing up from the table, Lino aggressively gathered his empty plates, creating a frantic bustle. It would be a profoundly disrespectful situation if the escort knight remained comfortably seated eating dessert while the Duke he was meant to serve relocated.

Planning to grab a few plates and flee upstairs, Lino was instantly thwarted by Grondil, forced back into his seat to forcibly endure the sharing of these ‘secret, intimate circumstances’.

Initially hesitant, wondering ‘Is it truly safe to discuss this in front of him?’, Erin soon abandoned her reservations when Grondil unhesitatingly initiated the conversation, engaging actively.

“So, you believe you will be able to locate the Letia here in Zetina… is that what you are saying?”

“Indeed.”

“Have you uncovered any evidence?”

“Not yet. I have yet to find concrete proof. However, if evidence is required, I can simply fabricate it, can I not?”

“Lord Castillion… If you resort to fabricating evidence, then they wouldn’t be the true Letia, would they?”

“I could throw that impotent bastard a male pig, tell him it’s the Letia, and he wouldn’t dare utter a word of protest.”

“While that may be true… a pig is a bit much, don’t you think? Both aesthetically and practically.”

“Would it help if I tied a ribbon on it?”

“A ribbon… Rather than a ribbon, perhaps outfitting it with a necklace imbued with divine power might make it slightly more convincing.”

Who is this Letia, and why is the Duke searching for them? What ‘evidence’? And what is all this nonsense about a pig, ribbons, and necklaces…? Lost in a conversation that utterly defied comprehension, Lino silently polished off his dessert plate.

“Who exactly is the individual you suspect of being the Letia, Lord Castillion? Is it someone I know?” Erin asked, casting a subtle glance toward Lino, who was entirely engrossed in his dessert.

Lino was currently poking at a delicate, brown, nest-like confection with his spoon, mesmerized by how it shattered into crisp, sugary threads, completely oblivious to Erin’s stare.

“From the candidates I recently gathered, I managed to isolate two potentials. It is one of them.”

“Is that so? The recent pool was remarkably small compared to your previous endeavors; quite fascinating. Or perhaps, seeing how endlessly you have suffered, Lord Castillion, the gods finally decided to grant you a modicum of mercy.”

“Mercy, my ass.” Grondil scoffed.

“Regardless, you are telling me it is someone I do not know. What is the probability that it is someone I do know? Zero?”

“I cannot offer a definitive answer to that either.”

“Hmm. Well, judging by today… whether it is the true Letia or not, it seems you have grown rather fond of them, haven’t you? It wasn’t long ago that rumors were rampant about you parading around with your other escort knight glued to your side like a cicada on an old tree.”

Ah. They’re talking about Yuneria.

At the mention of a familiar subject, Lino, who had his nose practically buried in his dessert plate, subtly raised his head.

“Ah—that one. He became far too arrogant, so I had to discipline him slightly. Perhaps he is inherently fragile? His recovery seems to be taking an inordinate amount of time.”

“Excuse me… was Sir Disson injured?”

Having listened quietly until now, Lino cautiously interjected. He hadn’t seen Yuneria since the underground auction incident. Furthermore, absolutely no one within the estate had even uttered Yuneria’s name. Because Grondil and Enoch acted as though the youth had never existed, no one dared to ask about him. Including Lino.

Therefore, Grondil bringing him up was the perfect opportunity to inquire about Yuneria’s status.

“Ah, did I neglect to mention it?”

“Yes…”

“I was informed he sustained an injury to his jaw.”

“His jaw? Did he perhaps fall down the stairs?”

“Who knows. I didn’t see the need to trouble myself with the details.”

Exactly how severely did he injure his jaw that he hasn’t returned to the estate in over a week? Lino attempted to deduce a scenario where Yuneria could have sustained such an injury. However, nothing plausible came to mind. If he were a civilian, perhaps, but as a knight, he possessed fundamental physical conditioning. Whether ascending or descending stairs, his instincts would have automatically executed a breakfall. He might have sprained a wrist, but his jaw should have been perfectly safe.

Was he randomly assaulted on the street? But there wasn’t a single soul in the Zetina Kingdom who didn’t recognize the second son of the Marquis Disson, making a random mugging highly improbable. It was equally unlikely he had wandered out late at night and walked face-first into an unseen obstacle. And the notion that he had spontaneously punched himself in the jaw was entirely impossible.

“I am told he will be returning shortly, so there is no need for concern.”

“…That is a relief.”

At the news of Yuneria’s imminent return, Lino absently dragged his tongue along the inside of his cheek. A bitter taste flooded his mouth. ‘Returning’ means his life was never in danger. While he was glad the beautiful youth was essentially fine… the realization that the relentless bullying would soon resume made his stomach churn with dread.

Even if it gets stuffy, I need to do something about my windows.

Perhaps tying the handles together tightly with wire or blocking them with heavy furniture would suffice. Ideally, nailing thick wooden planks over them to seal them permanently would be best, but that required explicit permission from the Duke or Enoch, making it impossible.

He couldn’t possibly confess: There is an intruder roaming the ducal estate. Said intruder was hired by none other than Sir Disson, Your Highness’s own escort knight. And the victim is your other escort knight—me. Revealing such pathetic facts would be incredibly… humiliating.

I suppose this will be my first and last time visiting a place like this.

Once Yuneria returned, their routines would undoubtedly revert to normal. The only reason the Duke had brought him here today was because Yuneria was absent, so he had simply substituted the spare escort knight.

Lino suddenly felt that the day Grondil grew bored of him might arrive sooner than anticipated. When Yuneria—who had practically lived in the Duke’s shadow—returned, Grondil’s interest in someone as excruciatingly dull as Lino would naturally evaporate.

So treat this as the Last Supper and eat every single crumb. When will I ever taste something like this again? Eat it while you can. The speed at which Lino demolished the desserts noticeably accelerated. Perhaps tailored for the summer heat, the spread consisted heavily of various ice creams.

Entirely oblivious to Lino’s morose internal monologue, Grondil offered a small smile at the sight of the knight eating with such relentless dedication. Mentally planning to ask Erin to pack a few items to go before they returned to the estate, he addressed her.

“Erin, in your opinion, where would a divine, symbolic mark most likely manifest?”

“A symbolic mark. You are referring to the crest that appears on the Letia, correct?”

“Considering it is explicitly mentioned in multiple ancient texts, the mark undeniably exists… yet I am at a total loss.”

Grondil shook the bottle of liquor—already more than half empty—and scowled. He had wasted an entire month on Yuneria, yet failed to locate anything remotely resembling a mark. He had even considered shaving the youth’s head bald, theorizing the mark might be hidden on his scalp.

While Enoch had dissuaded him from that extreme measure, a meticulous physical examination of Yuneria’s scalp while ‘styling’ his hair had failed to reveal even a suspicious mole.

“Hmm… You paraded around the capital together loudly enough to spark endless rumors, yet you still haven’t confirmed it?”

“Precisely. There were absolutely no traces visible on his exterior.”

“In that case, why not slice his stomach open and look? There is no absolute law stating the mark must manifest on the surface of the skin.”

“Must it truly come to that?” Grondil sighed, sounding genuinely reluctant.

Listening to their exchange, Lino nearly dropped his spoon at Erin’s casual suggestion to slice a stomach open. Slice his stomach open? What kind of mark requires doing something so barbaric to find it?

Despite the cool, sweet dessert dissolving on his tongue, Lino’s mouth went bone-dry. He didn’t need to ask to realize the subject of their gruesome investigation was Yuneria.

And a primal instinct screamed the terrifying truth: I am next.

Noticing Lino suddenly freeze, his spoon hovering midway to his mouth, Erin nudged his arm.

“Honestly, Lord Castillion. If you respond to a joke with such deadpan sincerity, what is your companion supposed to think?”

“T-that was a joke?” Lino asked, exhaling a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

Erin nodded emphatically. She tapped her manicured nails against the table and addressed Grondil.

“Really, if confirming the mark requires going to such horrific lengths, shouldn’t we call it a divine curse rather than a divine blessing?”

Lino recalled the incredibly rare instances of clergy supposedly receiving a divine blessing, manifesting as a holy stigmata on their bodies. He had no idea if the claims were true, but whenever a mark allegedly appeared, it made headline news across the continent.

He cautiously offered his perspective. Even though Erin had laughed it off as a joke, a deep unease lingered. A horrifying paranoia that he might be skinned alive had taken root.

“Occasionally, when clergy receive proof of divine blessing, doesn’t the crest of the god Aquila manifest in prominent places like their forehead, cheek, or the back of their hand?”

Grondil dismissed Lino’s suggestion with a shake of his head, deeming it unworthy of consideration.

“If the Letia’s mark manifested in a visible location like the face or the back of the hand, the Letia would spend their entire life being hunted, locked in a cage, or driven to suicide… Would they not?”

“Wait… what exactly is a Letia that necessitates all this?”

Unable to contain his curiosity, Lino blurted out the question, instantly regretting it as he nervously gauged Grondil and Erin’s reactions. Both simply stared at him in complete silence. Lino swallowed hard.

W-was I not supposed to ask that? But you two have been discussing it openly for ages as if it didn’t matter if I heard! Do you trust me that much not to tell anyone? Or… do you figure you can just eliminate me if things go south?!

“……”

The silence stretched so tautly that Lino, afraid to even breathe loudly, whispered frantically.

“I… I will just live the rest of my life in ignorance. I swear on my honor that I will never repeat a single word of what I heard today—”

“No, no, that isn’t why we were looking at you,” Erin interrupted, waving her hands. “Lord Castillion, did you really bring this gentleman here without explaining what a Letia is?”

“Is it relevant?”

“If it isn’t the previous escort knight, it must be this gentleman, no?”

“I have yet to confirm.”

“If you haven’t confirmed it, where did all that confidence about finding the Letia come from earlier?”

“Hmm… Intuition?”

Hah, ‘intuition’ my foot, Erin snorted, clearly unimpressed.

“Furthermore, Sir Disson still possesses a degree of potential. Although he relied on illicit means, he managed to withstand my true voice for a considerable duration. The only issue is that I failed to locate the mark.”

“Then you will definitely need to examine this gentleman thoroughly.”

Tapping her nails rhythmically against the table as she chose her words, Erin flicked a finger toward Lino.

“Excuse me, Mr. Escort Knight.”

“Ah, you can just call me Lino,” Lino offered with a polite smile. His true name was Lino; ‘Cliff’ was merely a hastily fabricated surname. He desperately wished for at least one person to address him by his actual name.

However, before Erin could even form the syllable, Grondil shut it down.

“No. Call him Sir Cliff.”

“What is with you? So stiff,” Erin clicked her tongue, visibly annoyed. Lino was equally disappointed, but what could he do? The employer had spoken.

Please call me Sir Cliff… Lino mumbled dejectedly.

“Now then, Lino. It seems it is time you learned what exactly a Letia is.”

“Is it truly something I should know… Wait, pardon? L-Lino?”

So consumed by the paralyzing fear that knowing the secret might cost him his life, it took Lino a full second to register that Grondil had addressed him by his given name rather than his surname.

“Why have you frozen like that? Lino Cliff. That is your name, is it not?”

“I-it is. I was merely startled because you suddenly used my first name.”

“I will be addressing you by your name from now on, so acclimate yourself to it.”

“Why the sudden… Actually, never mind. P-please, do so. Call me whatever you wish, whenever and wherever you desire.”

Why the sudden change? Lino had intended to ask, but the dangerously bright, smiling glint in Grondil’s eyes forced him to avert his gaze and meekly agree. He had the distinct, terrifying impression that asking that question would instantly eradicate the smile and unleash a blinding blizzard.