She Wasn't Crying
After confirming the annulment letter, Kyle immediately sprinted to the room housing the communication orb. From there, he attempted to reach the ducal estate. At first the duke's side ignored the calls, but when he kept trying without any intention of stopping, they finally accepted the connection, as if they'd grown tired of his persistence.
"What is it, Kyle Meyer?"
"It's been a while, father-in-law."
"The annulment letter should have reached you by now... yet you're still calling me by that title?"
Kyle realized the duke's words carried hidden barbs. He let out a low groan, then carefully met the man's gaze. Even across hundreds of kilometers, a chilling aura radiated from the orb as if the duke were standing right in front of him.
"I don't know what wrongdoing I've committed."
"You don't know. You don't know. Now that's a truly masterful answer."
"I only spoke the truth."
"Must I really explain the reason to an ignorant swordsman who wouldn't understand even if I told him?"
No matter that he was a duke, the attitude went beyond rudeness into outright hostility. Kyle wondered what in the world could have happened to provoke such a reaction. Yet when he continued to stare back with genuine confusion, the duke let out a light sigh and explained why he had sent the annulment letter.
"Yuri was crying."
"...Pardon?"
"My daughter was crying, Kyle Meyer. Did you truly believe you could make my daughter cry and walk away unscathed?"
The duke glared at him with eyes that suggested he wanted to charge over and rip out his throat right then and there. Kyle, however, had no time to collect himself. Yuri had cried? That Yuri Grace?
"Was she really crying?"
"Do you think I would lie about it?"
"No, I trust what Your Grace says. However... I cannot trust the information itself that Your Grace received."
"...What do you mean by that?"
"What I'm saying is that Your Grace probably didn't witness Yuri crying with your own eyes. It was relayed through someone else, wasn't it? For example..."
It had to be the duchess.
Kyle spoke while recalling the duke's wife, whose breasts were so enormous they looked ready to burst. As if those words had hit the mark, the duke could only groan and offer no rebuttal. Kyle pressed his advantage.
"How well do you actually know Yuri, Your Grace?"
"She is my daughter. Do you think there is anything about her I don't know?"
"At most, her name and birthday. I'm different."
"Ha. Kyle Meyer. Are you claiming that after spending a few months with my daughter you understand her better than I, who has been with her her entire life?"
"Yes."
"Insolent..."
The duke ground his teeth, but it was the truth. At best he was a biological father who had sired the child. He might know her name and birthday, but it was difficult to imagine he knew anything beyond that. In contrast, Kyle could confidently claim he knew everything about her—her height, her weight, her breast size, what she liked and disliked, the memories that traumatized her, even the secrets she could never tell anyone else.
He had been a resident of the world in which Yuri was created. A human who had lived in the same realm as the very creator who designed her. That was why he could state it with absolute certainty.
"Yuri wasn't crying."
"Ha. Ridiculous."
"I'll tell you after seeing it for myself. We're done here."
Kyle cut the communication and immediately began preparing to depart. The count, who had been anxiously wondering what conversation Kyle could possibly have had with the duke and what trouble he might have caused to warrant an annulment, was startled to see his son suddenly gathering clothes.
"Kyle? Where are you..."
"I'm heading to the ducal estate. Ah, Father, would you like to come along?"
"...No, I'll stay here."
"I'll borrow a carriage, then."
"Do as you wish... Kyle."
The count stopped his son, who looked ready to strip the entire household bare. Kyle turned back with a tilt of his head.
"What?"
"—Make sure you succeed and return."
"Of course. Don't worry."
With a casual swing of his arms, Kyle climbed into the carriage and set off for the north. Toward the former betrothed. Toward the ducal estate where Duke Grace resided.
The cold of the northern lands refused to relent even in midsummer. Kyle hunched his shoulders slightly against the chill seeping into the carriage and exhaled.
This place must be winter three hundred and sixty-five days a year.
Having lived in Korea with its clear four seasons before arriving in this other world, this was the single hardest thing to adapt to. The central region at least had some semblance of seasons, but the south was perpetually hot and the north perpetually cold. Living in a place like this, it was no wonder their faces stayed so stiff. Kyle endured the freezing air while reflecting on how environment could shape personality.
The coachman and horses were suffering just as much; their snorting carried clearly into the carriage.
"Ugh... Giddyup, giddyup—!"
After traveling a while to the sound of the coachman's feeble voice, the carriage suddenly halted. Kyle roughly calculated the time and realized they had reached the north. He had assumed there would be no major problems passing through. The carriage bore the Meyer crest, after all, and the northern soldiers could hardly fail to recognize it.
Yet no matter how long he waited, the carriage refused to move forward. Growing suspicious, Kyle opened the small window set into the carriage and found himself facing Grace territory soldiers who had completely surrounded them.
"What are you doing?"
As he stepped down from the carriage, a knight who appeared to be the commander stepped forward and offered a salute.
"Young Master Kyle Meyer. I am the knight Alres who serves His Grace Duke Grace."
"And? I am currently on my way to see His Grace. Move."
"My apologies, but those are His Grace's direct orders. Under no circumstances are we to allow Young Master Kyle inside."
Kyle let out a hollow laugh. So this was how they wanted to play it? Fine. He had thoughts of his own. He scanned the surroundings, then plucked a mistletoe branch half-buried in the snow—a switch perfectly sized for the name.
"Come at me."
"...What exactly are you doing?"
"I need to get through here, and you need to stop me. Simple, isn't it?"
When two people with conflicting wills sought to enforce their own, neither authority nor wealth mattered. Only raw force achieved with two arms could resolve everything.
"Try to block me. It'll hurt."
"...All troops, stop the young master. Avoid injuring him if possible."
Watching the soldiers and knight draw their blades with a clear ring of steel, Kyle began calculating how many minutes this would take. After a brief pause, he noted there were roughly thirty soldiers. Easy enough. One hundred seconds. He'd finish them all within that time.
With that thought, Kyle charged toward the soldiers.
Kyle kept his promised hundred seconds. He succeeded in felling every soldier and the knight within the time limit. Alres, knocked down by nothing more than a switch, stared up at him with an expression of utter disbelief.
"How is this possible... Even if we're both Experts, there's no way a mere switch could pierce armor..."
Alres pointed out the absurdity himself, then realized what it implied and quietly shut his mouth. Kyle, sensing that staying inside the carriage would only invite repeated incidents, climbed up to sit beside the coachman. Urging the man forward, he entered the ducal grounds and felt sharp gazes piercing him from every direction. He responded by adopting an arrogant posture. The north was the domain of warriors—a territory of cunning hunters who would swarm without end the moment they sensed weakness. It was better to act as though something more lay beneath the surface.
"Uh, young master? Doesn't it feel suddenly colder...?"
"It's just your imagination. Let's go."
It was not imagination. The killing intent radiating from the warriors in every direction had made the highly sensitive coachman shiver involuntarily. Kyle let out an admiring whistle at the man's keen senses, then quietly turned his head. In the distance stood the great barrier—the line dividing the north from barbarian lands. And just before it rose the duke's castle. An overwhelming surge of mana poured from within.
Feeling the power that seemed ready to explode at any moment, Kyle rose from the coachman's seat.
"Mister, cover your ears."
"Y-yes?"
"Cover your ears."
After warning the coachman, Kyle drew in a massive breath—inhaling every scrap of air around him—then roared.
The coachman beside him clapped both hands over his ears as if they might burst. The voice must have reached the duke inside the castle, because the massive mana immediately locked onto Kyle and hurtled toward him. He casually swatted the murderous energy aside and grinned.
He had come to meet her. Yuri Grace. Her fiancé.