“Turn around.”
The man in the black cloak obediently turned around.
“Take off your hood. No sudden moves.”
The hood was pulled back, revealing the man’s face.
He was a gaunt, emaciated man.
His eye sockets were sunken, his cheeks hollow, lips tinged with purple, and his complexion was unnaturally pale.
If it weren’t for the slight movement of his chest, Lillian—with her years of experience as a healer—would’ve thought he was a corpse.
The man stared at her with bloodshot eyes.
“Who are you? Why are you following us? Who sent you?” Lillian’s voice was sharp and commanding.
In a raspy, unpleasant voice, the man replied, “Miss Lillian, I merely wanted to make your acquaintance.”
“Make friends?”
Lillian curled her lips into a mocking smile.
“That’s not how you go about making friends.”
The man ignored her, staring instead at the blade pointed at him.
“Miss Lillian, you’re not quite how I imagined you.”
Lillian’s eyes narrowed.
She pressed the blade forward.
The skin on the man’s neck split, and thick, black blood began to ooze out.
From his words, she could tell—she had been watched for a long time.
If it had been the old her, she definitely wouldn’t have appeared behind him like this, threatening him with a sword, forcing out answers.
But this man seemed confident that Lillian wouldn’t kill him.
He even leaned into the blade.
Like slicing through butter, his neck pressed against the sword’s edge.
Lillian’s hand trembled—she nearly dropped her weapon.
The man gave a knowing smile.
He really was insane.
Lillian had never killed anyone before.
Not in her past life, nor in this one as a girl.
Everything she’d been taught—everything she’d come to believe—told her to cherish life, to never harm others unnecessarily.
But that didn’t mean she had to let herself be threatened.
Especially not in this world—a world with supernatural powers.
Here, people died every day—fighting monsters, clashing with others, dying in endless wars.
So when your life is on the line—you fight back.
Only by doing so could she protect herself.
Lillian wasn’t someone bound by rigid principles.
Now that she had sorted her thoughts, she gripped her sword tightly once again.
“Stop changing the subject.” Her gaze sharpened.
“Who are you? Who sent you?”
The blade pressed downward, slicing into the man’s flesh.
“Oh my, Miss Lillian, you’re actually angry. How rare.”
The man seemed unfazed by his injury, as if it weren’t even his body.
“I told you. I just wanted to make friends—with you and Lady Eleonora.”
Eleonora?
Lillian thought for a moment—then she understood.
Nobles and cults.
Of course.
So even back then, these people were already planning something against Eleonora—or rather, against Count Cohen?
Lillian felt a headache coming on.
She really didn’t want to be dragged into this mess.
But ever since she was targeted and chose to confront the man herself, she could no longer stay uninvolved.
Lillian stared into the man’s eyes, not backing down.
“I said: stop. Changing. The. Subject.”
The man sneered.
“Alright, Miss Lillian, it’s simple.”
“I just wanted you to pass along a message to Lady Eleonora: five days from now, at Her Highness the Princess’s birthday banquet—be careful.”
He let out a low chuckle, completely ignoring his wound.
He gently pushed down Lillian’s sword, pulled up his hood, and walked away from the alley.
Eleonora.
Ophelia.
Birthday banquet.
Lillian stood in silence for a long moment before letting out a sigh.
The good news: she wasn’t the main target.
This probably had nothing to do with her directly.
The bad news: she’d made an enemy out of a very strange man.
Even though she had completed basic knight training, Lillian still wasn’t sure of her actual combat capabilities.
She needed to finish learning about sigils from Eleonora—then find a way to test herself in real combat and evaluate her strength.
But one thing was certain: becoming stronger was never the wrong choice.
As long as she was strong enough—no one could hurt her.
She flicked the blood off her sword, sheathed it, and left the alley to find Eileen, who was still shopping.
They packed up the smaller goods onto the carriage and arranged for the larger items to be delivered to the count’s estate.
The shopping trip was finally over.
Perhaps exhausted from walking around all afternoon, the young maid Eileen fell asleep on Lillian’s shoulder on the ride home.
The feeling of her gentle breathing eased the anxiety in Lillian’s heart.
“What!?” Eleonora slammed her hands on the table. “Someone was following you!?”
She rushed to Lillian’s side, scanning her up and down.
“You’re not hurt, right?” Eleonora asked carefully.
“No.”
Lillian found herself smiling helplessly.
She felt… complicated.
If not for Eleonora, she wouldn’t have been caught up in this situation.
But Eleonora’s concern wasn’t fake—especially the way she had just fussed over her injuries.
It gave Lillian a strange sense of comfort.
“That’s good.”
Eleonora finally sighed in relief.
“What did the man say to you?”
“He told me to tell you—at the Princess’s birthday banquet in five days, be careful.”
Eleonora’s brows furrowed.
She must have thought of something, but didn’t look particularly surprised.
“I see,” she replied calmly.
Then, as if it were the most important thing again — “So, you’re really not hurt?”
“No, I’m not. He wasn’t very strong, just… weirdly unafraid of death.”
“…So you’re sure?” Eleonora asked again.
Lillian felt something was off.
This kind of behavior… seemed oddly familiar.
“What?”
“You’re really not hurt?” Eleonora leaned in slightly, tilted her head, and looked up at Lillian from below.
Seriously?
How many times had she said it now?
Lillian sighed, a little speechless.
“Really. Not hurt.”
“Oh, good.”
Eleonora skipped over to the couch, patted the seat beside her.
“Come here.”
“…?”
“Come on—” she urged sweetly.
Lillian looked at her, puzzled.
Was this really Eleonora?
The same bratty, eccentric noble girl?
She didn’t seem like she was going to cause any trouble.
So, Lillian walked over and sat down.
But the moment she did—
She was pulled into a soft, warm embrace.
Lillian stiffened at the sudden contact.
Then she remembered—just earlier, in the carriage, she had hugged Eileen like this too.
Between girls, especially friends, this sort of thing was… normal.
And even though she and Eleonora were technically master and servant, Lillian felt like they were… friends now.
So this was normal, right?
Eleonora must just be trying to comfort her.
That’s why she gave her a hug.
Lillian felt a warmth spread in her heart.
All the negativity and stress from earlier—the pressure of the unexpected encounter—completely melted away.
Feeling Lillian’s body relax, Eleonora smiled.
In her previous life, when the Count’s estate suddenly fell into chaos, she too had been under immense pressure—restless, anxious, just like Lillian was now.
Distracted speech, absent eyes, a constant furrowed brow.
Back then, Lillian had comforted her—asked her the same question over and over again, diverted her attention, and finally gave her a warm hug.
It had helped so much.
This method really worked wonders.
In fact, Eleonora thought, that time, Lillian had even said a bunch of comforting things to her.
But she herself… wasn’t very good at that part.
She wasn’t good with words.
So this time, she just followed the simple parts—ask repeatedly, then hug.
A simple hug would be enough.
Lillian, now resting quietly in her arms, had already calmed down.
“Thank you,” Lillian whispered after a long silence.
“…Mm.” Thank you too, Lillian.
A sweet, fuzzy warmth filled her heart.
If only things could stay like this forever…
Just the two of them, depending on each other.
But…
“Be careful.”
Who was it that wanted to warn her?
That hadn’t happened in her previous life…
With her head resting lightly against Lillian’s, Eleonora drifted into thought.