her is unusual in itself.

Edgar and a sword is a combination that even Beatrice, who has known him for a long time, has never seen before.
Edgar is a scholar, that was the obvious truth.

Besides, Edgar was right in front of her.


Beatrice glanced down.

His hands were resting on his sword, which was propped up on the floor, and his shirt was unbuttoned three times, exposing his collarbone.

His white collar bone made Beatrice’s gaze wander.
She didn’t know where to look, which was a little troubling and unsettling.

His eyelashes were clearly visible because of his head-down position, and the morning sun created shadows on his cheeks.
Straight silver bangs fell unprotected over a familiar, intelligent, broad forehead.

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Beatrice involuntarily reached out and gently scooped up a lock of his bangs.

She had never touched Edgar’s hair, even though she had known him since she was a child.
Edgar was always the one who stroked her head.

Touching it, she knew for the first time.

The straight, shiny silver hair, which looks like silken threads, is surprisingly firm and a bit stiff.

She was impressed in a strange way, he is a man after all.

Edgar is a man…

As she thought absentmindedly about this, his silver eyelashes fluttered.

Ah, she thought, and then saw his indigo eyes in front of her.


“Oh…? Artie…?”

He seemed to be still half-asleep, he blinked his eyes a few times, and then smiled softly at Beatrice.

His clear indigo eyes, like a deep sea, which she knew very well, were softly narrowed.
They were the same as always, gentle and calm.

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And yet Beatrice froze, unable to say anything.

After a moment or so, Beatrice’s cheeks turned red, and she backed away from him with great energy.
Edgar, seeing this, finally realized that this was not a dream and his cheeks turned red as well.

The two people, both somewhat absent-minded, remained like that for a while, staring at each other for a few dozen seconds more.

After that, the two came to their senses, they straightened up, and faced each other again at the breakfast table, but the situation was a bit awkward.

Beatrice was somewhat restless, feeling somewhat faint, but she noticed that here, too, the seeds of discomfort had fallen.

Apart from Beatrice and Edgar, the only people in the dining room were her mother and her father, the head of the Marquis of Strydom, Noyce.

There was no Rembrandt, the older brother who should always be there.

She casually asked him why, but he replied that he was only out of the house on a personal business.

He’s been gone since this morning, but it’s not work, it’s personal business.

Beatrice felt caught off guard, but apparently Noyce was not going to tell her anything more.
The conversation about Rembrandt was considered over.

Then, after a quick nap after breakfast, Edgar said he would postpone the date of his return to Drieste.

He said that he would stay by Beatrice’s side until Rembrandt comes back.

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