Chapter 10: Women are fickle since childhood

“Moreover, almost everyone present suddenly started feeling dizzy and nauseous, as if their magic had been completely drained.”

“After the Church’s examination,”

Eleanor lifted her head, her expression somewhat strange. “They claim it’s a kind of ‘curse’—

a curse that suppresses magic.”

A drop of water slid down from the silver kettle’s spout.

“They want to burn this ‘Cursed Girl’ with Saint Fire.”

Eleanor quietly watched the droplet fall onto the table, her face without the slightest change. “Until mother struggled to grab father’s hand…

using her last strength to plead bitterly, only then was her life saved.”

The girl looked up and gazed at the boy sitting across from her:

“That’s why everyone has feared and avoided her since she was little.”

The smile on her face was like a crack on ice. “Even father silently approved of this.”

“Now do you understand?”

Julius said nothing, only sipping his tea.

The lingering warmth of the black tea remained between his lips, with a faint bitter aftertaste.

Suddenly, he found the unfamiliar floral tea from the afternoon had its own special flavor.

“No wonder.”

After a long silence, his voice finally broke the quiet in the room. “But I don’t think it’s her fault, is it?”

He raised his head, his gaze passing over the teacup on the table, colliding with Eleanor’s eyes in midair.

Eleanor saw something flicker in his eyes—an unwavering determination she had never seen before.

“Though I only spent a short afternoon with her,”

The black-haired boy’s lips curled up slightly, a rare smile appearing, “I think Miss Helos is a very optimistic and interesting person.”

“She’s nothing like those heiresses I know.”

“Wait, Julius.”

Before he could finish, Eleanor suddenly leaned forward, her golden hair slipping down onto the table.

Her voice carried a hint of urgency:

“What did you just say?”

“I said your sister is a very optimistic and interesting person.”

“No, not that.”

Eleanor shook her head, staring at him without blinking. “The previous sentence.”

“…I spent an afternoon with her?”

The room fell silent again.

Then, in the next moment, Eleanor’s eyes suddenly widened.

“You spent an afternoon with her?! Really?!”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

Eleanor abruptly stood up, her movement so violent that it knocked the silver spoon off the tea table.

It hit the carpet with a dull thud.

But now, the Duchess had no interest in picking it up.

“Your body… nothing happened to it?”

Julius shook his head in confusion:

“Nothing at all.”

The boy was puzzled by the question.

The maid’s strange inquiry just now, Eleanor’s unusual reaction—pieces collided in his mind—

What exactly did ‘something happening’ mean?

Dizziness? Vomiting? Weak limbs?

Or, as Eleanor described with the nuns in the delivery room, all of those symptoms?

But when he recalled that afternoon, the only memory was Helos’s silver hair shining under the sunlight, and her face always lit with a smile.

He could even clearly remember her scent, yet no trace of discomfort at all.

“Julius!”

Eleanor suddenly slammed her hand on the table, making the tea set clatter.

Julius reflexively straightened, seeing the usually elegant Young Lady’s face flush with an unusual redness.

Her chest rose and fell sharply, and her golden hair trembled slightly with her quick breaths.

“Swear to the Goddess you’re not lying to me!”

“I—I swear to the Goddess!”

Julius instinctively straightened his back, “I would never lie to you!”

“Good!”

Eleanor clenched her skirt tightly, the luxurious fabric wrinkling between her fingers.

She took a deep breath and suddenly pointed toward the west side of the Duke’s Mansion:

“I hereby order you to watch over Helos!”

“…?”

“De…”

Eleanor blinked, her imposing aura suddenly softening a bit. “’Watch over’ might not be the right word…”

She awkwardly turned her face away, her voice lowering, “It’s to help Helos.”

“Me?”

Julius pointed at himself, confused. “But I’m your squire?”

“When I need you, I’ll call for you!”

Eleanor cut him off, speaking so fast it was unlike the composed Duchess.

She quickly walked to the window:

“That child has always been alone… every time there’s a banquet, she hides behind the pillars and watches…”

“And even when family members played with me, she was always lonely!”

Her voice suddenly choked, her fingertips lightly tracing the windowpane, as if trying to touch the faint light in the distance:

“If this continues, my dear little sister will one day become that gloomy noblewoman who never leaves the house and only tinkers with some strange, dangerous inventions!”

Julius stood still, staring at Eleanor’s pouty profile pressed almost against the glass.

Those usually calm blue eyes now sparkled with frustration.

“You’re not wrong!”

She suddenly turned, her skirt swirling fiercely. “Though I admit mother died from difficult childbirth—how can you blame a newborn baby for that?”

The girl jabbed her fingertip heavily on the table, making the tea set clatter.

Julius noticed a faint blue vein appear on her pale neck—the first time he’d seen such intense emotion from the elegant Young Lady.

“But if anyone is to blame, why not blame me too?!”

Eleanor let out a fierce breath, her golden hair shaking violently with the movement. “Those ancient relics at the Church—”

Julius’s pupils suddenly shrank.

He instinctively reached for his sword hilt, but his fingers froze in midair.

The girl angrily rebuking the Church overlapped terrifyingly with the image of her devoutly praying before the saint’s statue in his memory.

“How could they push the sin onto an innocent child?!”

The boy was completely dumbfounded.

His lips parted slightly, but no sound came out.

Isn’t she the Saintess Candidate endorsed by the Church?

Is it really alright for her to say things like this in front of a Saint Knight Squire?

Now he finally understood why he felt a sense of familiarity with the Duchess before.

Not long ago, someone seemed to have said something similar to him.

Eleanor angrily sank back into her chair, the silk skirt lifting a small breeze.

Her tightly clenched fists slammed on the table, making the tea set clatter once again—those delicate porcelain pieces almost seemed to flinch.

“When I become the Great Saintess! I’ll exile all those hateful ancient relics to the borderlands to farm potatoes!”

With that, her gaze pierced Julius sharply:

“Hey! Saint Knight!”

“You are my personal squire!”

“You wouldn’t dare disobey my orders, would you?”