WTSP - 41

Having visited this place countless times, it didn’t take long to reach the private training grounds.

I had come on a whim, hoping to find Knight Rovair there, but as the Captain of the Imperial Knights, he was a very busy man. Especially in these turbulent times, his role became even more crucial. It was only when I was nearing the training grounds that the thought occurred to me he might not be there.

‘Ah, he was practicing swordsmanship.’

Thankfully, he was indeed in the training grounds, swinging his sword.

‘It’s only been a few days, but it feels good to see him.’

Relieved that my trip hadn’t been in vain, I tilted my head, sensing something was amiss.

As usual, Rovair was practicing his swordsmanship against straw dummies. However, the atmosphere surrounding him was different.

From what I had observed by his side, Rovair’s swordsmanship was controlled and clean, striking opponents decisively in one blow. Watching his movements, I would often marvel at how serious and weighty his sword swings were.

But today, Rovair was different. With each swing of his sword, he seemed precariously close to collapsing. His attacks were still strong, but the execution was excessively rough.

To an outsider, it might have just looked like impressive swordsmanship, but I knew how much of a master of restraint he was. At this moment, Millen Rovair felt like a knight wielding his sword against a mortal enemy.

It was only after he had completely shattered all the straw dummies standing inside the training grounds that Rovair lowered his sword.

Even though they were made of straw, those dummies were quite sturdy. Ordinary swordsmanship would only leave scratches; they weren’t easily cut through.

Clicking my tongue inwardly, I approached Rovair as he quenched his thirst.

“Sir Rovair. Are you alright?”

“...Your Highness. What brings you here?”

Perhaps he hadn’t noticed my presence, as Rovair looked slightly surprised. Of course, that surprised look quickly vanished, replaced by his usual calm expression.

Rovair was a man who rarely showed his emotions. As the illegitimate son of a count, perhaps he had been trained that way.

However, today, Rovair seemed so engrossed in his sword training that he hadn’t noticed my approach.

Placing a water bottle nearby, he bowed his head in courtesy.

“My apologies. I did not expect Your Highness to visit.”

“Please refrain from apologizing for such trivial matters. I’m the one who feels sorry for disturbing your training.”

“Not at all. Prioritizing Your Highness is my duty.”

This man was foolishly loyal.

I let out a weak chuckle and gestured towards a bench placed at one side of the training grounds.

“Shall we have a chat for a moment?”

I sat down on the bench and tapped the space beside me with my fingertips, a silent gesture inviting him to sit and talk with me.

However, Rovair remained standing there, unmoving.

“It’s not that you don’t want to sit with me, is it? Because that would make me feel a little awkward.”

“...Princess Ophelia.”

Rovair, his heavy lips finally parting, knelt down on one knee on the ground.

His action, far exceeding my expectations, made my eyes widen. Even when I told him to rise, he didn’t move at all, as if that spot were his rightful place.

“That day, if I had lost Your Highness... I would not have been able to bear it.”

“Sir Rovair.”

“I prayed to a god I do not believe in. That you would not be in pain, that only warm sunlight would fill your days. Thankfully, you were not harmed, but I, as your knight, failed to protect you.”

Rovair lowered his gaze, his face filled with self-reproach.

Hadn’t someone said that unconditional love was impossible except for the love a parent has for a child?

Looking at him, I felt such words were meaningless. I didn’t know much about love, but Rovair was clearly showing devoted affection.

It was just regrettable that the object of that affection was the vanished, real Ophelia Meirdis, not me.

‘How can I tell him that I am no longer the lady he knew? He is so pure.’

A pang shot through my heart.

After a long silence, Rovair drew his sword and placed it in my hands. I seemed to understand his intention without him saying a word.

“Even if I have disappointed you, I will gladly accept the punishment. Please, do not forgive me.”

“...I heard that Sir Rovair was the first to rush to me and carry me.”

The last memories of that day were still hazy, but the urgent touch of someone’s hand remained unforgettable.

Despite the critical situation, the hand that reached me was as warm and gentle as a spring breeze, and even comforting.

When I learned the identity of that knight from Lena, it felt very much like Rovair.

I had wanted to thank him when we met again, but somehow, it always seemed like I was only receiving apologies from him.

“I have something I want to talk about. Will you sit beside me now? You are not my liege lord, and it makes me a little uncomfortable when you keep kneeling.”

“...To me, Your Highness is the only liege lord.”

“If His Majesty the Emperor hears that, it could be a big problem. Wasn’t Sir Rovair the Vice-Captain of the Imperial Knights?”

I deliberately spoke in a playful tone to lighten the mood.

“It’s hard to look down at you. So, come on.”

At my touch, tapping the space beside me, Rovair reluctantly rose and sat on the bench.

He still seemed uneasy about sitting side-by-side with me, but I simply shrugged and smiled.

‘......The weather is really nice today. The breeze is cool too.’

Perhaps it was because it was my first time out in a few days, but the outside air felt particularly refreshing.

“Do you remember the day we first met? The day before my eleventh birthday, you appeared like a gift, Sir Rovair. You were probably... sixteen back then.”

“...I didn’t think you would remember. That was already thirteen years ago.”

“How could I forget that day? It feels as vivid as yesterday. You didn’t want me to forget, did you?”

Rovair silently shook his head. If his occasional displays of honesty made him seem endearing, was I perhaps blinded by affection?

He seemed lost in thought, reminiscing about that day.

I, too, could not forget what happened thirteen years ago.

To be precise, I had borrowed Ophelia’s memories, but perhaps because I was inhabiting her body, her memories felt like my own past.

“You looked like you hadn’t bathed in over a week, all grimy. The hem of your clothes was frayed and tattered. Even in that shabby state, you shone so brightly. ‘After all, a man’s looks are everything...’ That’s what the maids used to whisper. But my gaze was drawn to Sir Rovair’s eyes, not his appearance.”

“That day, Your Highness was wearing a white nightgown. A dress that came down to your knees... I remember thinking it was the exact color of your hair.”

A gentle smile touched the lips of Rovair, who rarely showed any expression.

Whether the phrase “like rain after a drought” was appropriate, I enjoyed the smiles he occasionally showed me.

Baron Meirdis had one day brought a boy with no connections to the mansion and introduced him to Ophelia.

I remembered that he hadn’t explicitly mentioned that he was the illegitimate son of Count Rovair.

He had simply chuckled and told them to get along like friends.

“The servants bathed Sir Rovair and dressed him in new clothes, and everyone praised him, saying he looked just like a young master. He really did look like a completely different person.”

I smiled, recounting Ophelia’s memories as if they were my own recollections. I felt completely in sync with her emotions at the time.

“I remember giving you my favorite doll when you came back all clean and fluffy. Sir Rovair and a doll, it really doesn’t suit you, though.”

“...You named him Pepe. I still don’t know the meaning, but I cherish him dearly.”

“Pepe... what does it really mean? I think I put a lot of thought into that name back then. That doll was really precious to me. I wouldn’t have nightmares if I slept holding it.”

“...Is that so?”

“That’s probably why I wanted to give it to Sir Rovair. I wanted young you to no longer have nightmares and to sleep happily.”

I was quite mature back then, wasn’t I? I smiled, my eyes crinkling at the corners, and fidgeted with my hands.

To think that he still kept a doll I had given him over a decade ago warmed my heart.

‘Did Rovair vow to protect Ophelia from that moment on?’

For the father and daughter who had warmly welcomed him, who had been abandoned by his parents and his family...

“Back then, I called you by your name, not ‘Sir Rovair.’ Millen, right?”

Millen. It was a name I hadn’t uttered in a while.

Perhaps it had been a long time since someone had called him by his given name, as Rovair’s eyes widened and his lips slightly parted, a hint of hesitation on his face.

After a moment of contemplation, he spoke in his usual low voice.

“...Please call me Sir Rovair.”

“Ah, sorry. I’m more used to that title now. Were you perhaps displeased?”

“No, it’s just...”

Rovair trailed off, uncharacteristically. He, who always acted rationally, was being swayed by some unknown emotion.

A rather long silence hung in the air, but I didn’t press him for an answer. Everyone had emotions they didn’t want to reveal.

I rose from my seat, wanting to break the awkward atmosphere, and picked up the wooden sword I always used.

I seemed to be getting used to the unique weightiness of the wooden sword now.

“Since things have turned out this way, shall we have some sword training for the first time in a while? I even changed my clothes.”

Rovair nodded and grasped the hilt of the wooden sword beside him.

If you call me Millen, I get the illusion that I have become someone special to Your Highness.

His belated reply, almost a soliloquy, was carried away by a gust of wind before it could reach my ears.

The petals of a red begonia fluttered and swayed.