No Longer Your Daughter
During the date when Leo was sighted, Hildegard had broken Drüber's wrist. She hadn't meant to break it—it was just a failure in controlling her strength. But this was a major problem. Drüber was Hildegard's direct superior and the second son of a count's family. Not only had she committed insubordination, but she'd injured the young heir of a noble house. The Eisenwalt forces upheld strict military discipline. She was in line for severe punishment. Assaulting a superior meant thirty years in peacetime—ten in times of peace. It was peacetime now, but even ten years was no small sentence. And that wasn't the end of her crimes; there was also the charge of assaulting a noble. They'd apply military and noble law separately for an aggravated penalty. On top of that, Hildegard's family, the von Quyrhalsteins, carried the karma of Maximilian's legacy—they'd face even harsher judgment than what he'd been sentenced to. That could mean anywhere from a hundred years to life imprisonment. Covering it up was impossible. How many people had witnessed the scene in the restaurant? And given Drüber's personality, he'd definitely push for punishment.
But Hildegard felt no regret. She was a knight. No matter what anyone said, she was Lady Hildegard, granddaughter of the proud Sir Maximilian and inheritor of his will. A knight doesn't tolerate injustice. Yielding to injustice out of fear for power or the future was unforgivable. Not even for the grandfather watching from heaven. With that noble resolve, Hildegard headed to work.
As she walked the corridor, Drüber came limping from the opposite direction. Hildegard stopped with a look that said here it comes and waited for him.
But—
Whoosh.
“?”
Drüber, whom she'd expected to chew her out, hurried past her instead. He even seemed a bit afraid of Hildegard.
“Colonel Falkmart.”
She called out to him.
“W-Why are you calling me?”
He turned back, trembling. His face was unmistakably pale with fear—ashen complexion, shaking hands. But the object of his terror didn't seem to be Hildegard; it was as if he were looking at someone else.
“...Don't you have something to say?”
“N-No, I don't!”
“But—”
“No buts! Just do your job!”
Drüber limped away. Hildegard tilted her head in confusion.
*
“Elizabeth is coming today, right?”
“Yeah, around eight. So I might need to head home a bit early. Sorry.”
Today was the day Leo's daughter, Elizabeth, was coming home. Apparently, the time difference meant she'd arrive in the evening.
“No, that's fine. Please be with Elizabeth.”
Hildegard met Leo at the tavern. As usual, they sipped their drinks and talked. They drank liquor strong enough to intoxicate even a swordmaster, sharing their stories. The difference from before was that their conversations had grown deeper. After the date, they'd become even more like lovers. They'd been lovers before, but it had felt somewhat obligatory. Now... it was more tender, the boundaries softer.
Hildegard touched her chest. The necklace he'd put around her neck caught on her fingers. Could a gift from someone feel this good? The thrill and joy from that moment still hummed low in her heart.
“Something strange happened today.”
“What?”
“I injured Colonel Falkmart's wrist at the restaurant, remember?”
“Oh, right.”
“I thought I'd be punished, but... nothing happened.”
“Whoa, really? That's great.”
Leo was as happy as if it were his own good fortune.
“...But that's what worries me more. Drüber isn't the type to let something like that slide. He'll get revenge eventually.”
“Don't worry too much. Schvalier was there too, right? Maybe he warned him. Even an idiot like that would listen to a 9th circle mage.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah.”
Leo's words made sense. Drüber was a classic bully—infinitely cruel to the weak, infinitely submissive to the strong. A 9th circle mage was a giant he couldn't defy, so Leo's theory held water.
“Ah, it's about time. I'll head out.”
Around 7:30, Leo stood up. Time to go home and greet his daughter. Hildegard swallowed her reluctance and followed him out of the tavern.
“Here—the money from before.”
She handed him an envelope of cash.
“What's this?”
“For the dress.”
On their date, Leo had bought a 1.3 million harts dress in her place. She'd heard men usually buy clothes or bags for women, but Hildegard disagreed. What was hers, she should buy herself. And debts must be paid.
“It's fine.”
“No. Please take it.”
When Leo tried to refuse, Hildegard grabbed his wrist, forcing his hand open to stuff the money in. But surprisingly, it wouldn't open. For the first time, Hildegard was being overpowered physically, and it startled her inwardly.
“That dress was your birthday present too.”
“The necklace was the birthday gift.”
“Then buy me clothes and a necklace for my birthday.”
Leo didn't yield an inch. Hildegard felt inexplicably frustrated but conceded with a nod. She'd have to pick up a men's clothing magazine before heading home.
“Take care.”
“You too, Mr. Valentine.”
They embraced. Leo was huge—around 190 cm—so he enveloped her completely. As they finished the warm hug and pulled apart...
“There you are!”
A sour-faced middle-aged woman yelled as she spotted them. Beside her were a young man who looked like her son and a middle-aged man who seemed to be her husband. The young man had black hair and golden eyes. His features vaguely resembled Hildegard's.
“...How did you find me here?”
“We turned the place upside down after that mess. They said you come here every evening? Caught you red-handed.”
The man spat irritably.
“Honey, we heard what you did to Colonel Falkmart. Is it true? If it is, you're throwing everything away for a guy like that?”
“Seriously, always causing trouble—same crap every time!”
The woman and the middle-aged man spoke in turn. From their conversation, they seemed to be Hildegard's family.
She has a family after all.
Hildegard had never brought up her family no matter how persistently asked, so I'd assumed there was none. But here they were, alive and well. And the first words out of their mouths explained why she'd kept silent.
Sure enough, Hildegard's expression crumbled. She looked back and forth between me and her family, at a loss.
Meanwhile, her family strode forward and glared at me.
Hildegard's mother demanded in a prickly tone.
“You're the one, aren't you?”
“The one what?”
“The one who seduced my daughter.”
Hildegard tried to step forward.
“No, Mother. I was the one who—”
“Yes. I seduced her.”
“Do you even know who she is?”
“I do. Hildegard von Quyrhalstein.”
“Then why meet her? Why? Huh? Why meet her?”
The woman's way with words was masterful at draining one's spirit. Her sheer intensity was overwhelming. The type you least want to talk to.
“Is it wrong to meet?”
“Ha! She's a noble.”
“So?”
“S-So?”
But I'm not one to back down in presence either. I only yield a bit to Elizabeth; ordinary folk get overwhelmed by my aura.
Then the husband stepped in.
“Talking back to your elders? What a punk. Hildegard already has a fiancé! Drüber Falkmart. You know Falkmart Trading Company? He's the second son. And that's not all—he's a colonel in the central army. Huh? She's going to marry him. She's not some girl you can mess with!”
“Did Hildegard agree to that marriage?”
“...Of course!”
He jabbed his finger, spittle flying. I quietly pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the spit from my face.
“Mother, Father, please stop.”
Hildegard's voice trembled like shattered glass. She approached, trying to pull her parents away from me. Her face was wrecked with shame.
But the couple roughly shoved Hildegard instead. Caught off guard by her own parents' push, she staggered badly. They didn't stop there—they slapped her cheek hard.
Smack!
Hildegard's head snapped to the side, her black hair sticking to her cheek. Her eyes lost focus, staring into space.
“You dare make a fool of me? Do you know how that marriage was arranged? And you just toss it away like nothing?”
“...”
“You have to know when to quit. How can you try to have it all? That's greed. Greed! We let you train with the sword, and you kick away the marriage?”
The husband chimed in.
“Should've broken all her limbs back then. Ugh. But you told me to stop.”
“Why's it my fault? You stopped because her mouth was bleeding!”
“What're you saying, you hag?”
“Why'd you even let her have that butcher's sword? That's why she got these weird ideas and turned out like this!”
“What? Butcher!?”
“Am I wrong? She killed that many—if not a butcher, what is she?”
“You bitch.”
Their fury at Hildegard quickly turned to mutual accusations. The son sighed deeply, as if used to it, while Hildegard clenched her fists and bit her lower lip.
“Enough.”
I said.
Their hate-filled eyes, mid-insult, turned to me.
“Yeah, you're the problem! You ruined everything!”
The woman agreed emphatically and swung her palm at me. Unlike Hildegard, I'd seen it coming and caught it easily.
“L-Let go!”
“Seeing you all... I respect Hildegard even more.”
“What do you know!”
“I had parents like you, so I know.”
Compared to mine, they were saints, but still...
“For such excellent woman to come from parents like you... it's a miracle.”
“This...”
“Let Hildegard go. Clinging on just because you're family? It's pathetic.”
“P-Pathetic?”
“Yes. Truly pathetic.”
The woman gaped blankly, mouth opening and closing. Then she whipped her head to her husband and yelled.
“Did you hear that jerk? He says we're pathetic!”
“That young punk just...”
“Stop it!”
Hildegard's cry echoed. A voice mixed with shame and rage. She screamed as if snapping long-rusted chains.
“Please, just stop.”
The street fell silent. No more hysterics, finger-pointing, or sneers. All eyes fixed on her as Hildegard took a slow breath.
Then, very quietly but firmly, she spoke.
“From today on, I will no longer live as your child.”
Everyone doubted their ears. Her parents' eyes widened, Gustav's mouth hung open. Even I blinked in surprise.
“Picking up the sword was my choice. I needed no one's permission. Marriage, life, career, love—none of it is yours to interfere with anymore.”
She rubbed her slapped cheek with the back of her hand. Her golden eyes held an unbreakable resolve no one could reverse.
The woman froze for a moment, then twisted her face in fury and raised her hand again to slap her.
“You little—”
Shing!
Hildegard's sword whipped out, stopping at her mother's throat. The very sword they'd called the butcher's blade. Cold steel gleamed. One more inch, and it would sever her neck.
“H-Hic.”
The woman gulped, chin tucked tight.
Whoosh.
Hildegard unleashed her suppressed aura. The swordmaster's overwhelming presence crushed them. Her parents and Gustav froze like prey facing an eagle. Before them stood no longer the compliant daughter and sister. She was now a full-fledged knight claiming her own path.
Whoosh.
Hildegard grabbed Leo's wrist and left.
*
The situation was the complete opposite of their date. Hildegard led, pulling Leo along. It was now eight o'clock.
“I'm sorry. You saw something unsightly.”
“Nah, it's fine.”
“...This is your home, right, Mr. Valentine?”
“You remember?”
“I've been here before.”
A few times when Leo was blackout drunk, Hildegard had brought him home. She stopped in front of his house. Her grip on his wrist was tight—painful, even. Rubbing it, Leo looked into her eyes.
Surprisingly, they were serene. Hard to believe they'd just come from that intense declaration of severance.
“How do you feel?”
He asked carefully, omitting the subject, but she understood.
“I thought it'd feel liberating, or sad. But... it's just... neutral.”
She answered calmly, like someone waking from a long dream. She'd severed ties with her own family—blood bonds, but emotionally distant for ages. Remarkably, she didn't tremble. Her expression, fingertips, even breath steady. She was at peace.
Probably. She'd prepared for this moment long ago. Her heart had left them years before. Now she'd just acknowledged it and decided.
“Thank you. And sorry.”
“For what? I didn't do anything.”
“No. Without you, I couldn't have said those words or drawn my sword. You made it possible.”
“More importantly, how's your cheek?”
“It doesn't hurt.”
“It's red.”
That woman had slapped her daughter so hard the right cheek was inflamed. Her pale skin made it stand out. I wouldn't have hit that hard.
Smooth.
I removed my glove and placed my hand on her right cheek. Soft skin met my palm. I gazed into her golden eyes. The eagle's intimidation was gone; now she was a shy sparrow. Her cheek flushed—not from the slap. A pretty red spread across her face.
We stared at each other. She looked up, I down. The moonlight that night was exceptionally bright.
“...”
Her thick lashes veiled her eyes. She rose slightly on tiptoe, tilting her chin up. Her moist lips asserted themselves irresistibly.
I pulled her chin and claimed those lips.
And Elizabeth watched the whole thing.