You Are Terribly Important to Me
After the duel with someone important to me ended, we made our way back to our lodgings amid the crowd's greetings. After hinting that there'd be chances to chat more with the various nobles later, Daniela and I slipped away to somewhere else. Daniela boldly hooked her arm through mine, and we started walking together. We followed the servant slowly.
"Was that too much?"
"No. He probably needed to get beaten like that to come to his senses."
It seemed like the right call. Whenever I came south, it felt like routine for the Crown Prince to pick a fight with me. Not that I was one to back down from a scrap—and every time I saw that infuriating smirk of his, the urge to punch him just surged up. In a way, the Crown Prince had it coming.
There was that saying, after all. Punch-me bait.
"Still, I doubt he'll learn. Even when he was carried off at the end."
"That's on His Highness the Crown Prince. Your Grace doesn't need to give it a second thought."
Daniela squeezed my arm even tighter as she spoke. They said guys bonded more after a fight, but I had zero interest in getting chummy with the Crown Prince. If anything, he needed a bit more of a thrashing to straighten up. That was all I could think.
Maybe this was the novel's influence too—the reason I disliked the Crown Prince so much. But I couldn't chalk it up to that. There were plenty of real reasons to loathe him, right?
Right, Daniela?
"Why are you staring like that, Your Grace? Is there something on my face?"
"Ah, no. You're just so beautiful today."
"Really..."
The servant opened the door with a bow, informing us this was the room we'd be staying in. It was opulent beyond belief—lavish to the point of discomfort. But the huge windows made it look downright ominous, like they were screaming vulnerable.
"We'll take another room."
"Pardon? But the other rooms are already occupied..."
"Then I'll go speak to them myself."
This setup reeked of bad intentions. Windows that big practically invited intruders. At this point, paranoia seemed wise. It reminded me of our stay in the Bart Territory last time—Leor had smashed through them, but I'd never expected anyone to actually send assassins.
"Your Grace? Are you worried?"
"The intent's too obvious. Doesn't sit right with me."
But commandeering someone else's room felt excessive. And this grandeur? It didn't suit me. A Northern Grand Duke might expect such luxury, but to me, it just screamed extravagance—nothing more.
"If so, we could find another—"
"No need. Leor?"
Leor perked up behind me. I asked if there was a spare room for attendants—the kind where servants or our own retainers stayed. It was a trick I'd pulled before, sleeping elsewhere to dodge assassination risks. Even back in Bart Territory, basic precautions like this were essential.
"Sh-should I show you to our quarters, then?"
"A room like this should be fine for you all, no?"
"I-it's a bit too grand for us."
"Make space for our entourage here. We'll take that one."
Decision made. I glanced at Daniela, and she nodded. A fine Grand Duchess's instinct—retainers' quarters were safer than some assassination bait disguised as luxury.
The servant led us to the servants' wing. The palace corridors were palace-worthy in their own right. I toyed with the idea of building something like this up north, then quickly scrapped it.
"What're you pondering so deeply, Your Grace?"
"Me? Just thought about erecting a palace like this sometime."
"Please don't—whether joking or serious."
Her advice carried real weight. I nodded. Sure, we could build one. Folks might love it at first. But it'd devour the North's budget in no time.
Daniela's expression was firm.
"Winter Castle is beautiful enough as it is."
"Y-yeah."
It was the same unyielding resolve I'd see from Hexon or Bildo. Overly loyal types, but exactly how they'd react. No escaping it.
And I liked that. That's what made a Grand Duchess.
"The lodgings are a bit cramped."
"W-well, it's the servants' quarters, after all."
"Take this chance to sleep in style."
"Th-thank you, Your Grace."
An assassin probably wouldn't show, but better safe. People started shuffling rooms, our luggage moving here too. The servants' room was spartan—blankets and pillows piled for multiple occupants.
Fine by Daniela and me; one was enough.
"So, how's the Crown Prince?"
"Pr-probably getting treated."
"I didn't expect him to go down that hard. Don't get me wrong."
"N-nor did I."
No one had. Northern duels were brutal, borderline barbaric. But proxies? Was that a real duel? In a way, it was fairer—responsibility fell squarely on the fighter.
"Check on him discreetly. Don't make it obvious."
"Y-yes, sir."
"Report anything unusual right away."
"Understood, Your Grace."
The servants finally cleared out. Daniela and I had the room to ourselves; two guards would alternate watch outside. Leor insisted the Grand Duke's safety came first here.
The guards' footsteps echoed loudly.
"Your Grace."
Daniela broke the awkward silence first, clearly distracted by the pacing outside. Sensitive types rubbed off on each other. But she drew closer instead.
"What? Something wrong?"
"Are you alright?"
"Huh? Who?"
I assumed she meant the Crown Prince. But her worry was all for me—something I wouldn't trade for the world. It didn't faze me. I'd taken punches from him before, but never felt this unscathed. Normally, each hit would've left swelling or splits. Not even a bitten cheek.
"I was shocked. Fighting His Highness like that."
"That shocked?"
"Yes..."
She nodded. Made sense—she was southern-born. Never seen a brawl like that. But I had my reasons. I remembered his words clear as day: he wanted revenge.
"He said he wanted payback. That's why."
"Even so, you didn't have to take hits like that."
Her emotions were rising; cheeks flushing. Maybe I'd pushed too hard. But honesty with my Grand Duchess felt right.
"I knew he treated you poorly before."
"Pardon?"
"Back at the Academy, when you got expelled. That's why, right?"
How low they'd stooped to oust one woman. I didn't know all the details yet, but the novel mentioned her rival's cronies dueling Daniela, humiliating her. I wanted payback. And I couldn't stomach the Crown Prince's sleaze anymore.
"That doesn't mean you had to do this."
"Daniela?"
"What if you got hurt? I'm worried. Always..."
"Looks like I got hurt bad."
I had to play it up suddenly. Truth was, I felt zero pain—the fight was one-sided, barely a duel. But this was my chance. Alfredo and Hexon's words echoed: Hexon's fretting, a man's duties.
"R-really?"
"Hurry and fuss over me. Mind if I lie down?"
Too obvious? Maybe, but it could work. Not scheming—just sore, she'd think. Plus, it'd ease Hexon, the ministers', the nobles' worries. I wasn't getting younger.
"Let me see. Your Grace, are you really hurt bad?"
"Yeah."
I flopped onto the makeshift bed. Glanced at her—but she was already there, stroking my face, asking where it hurt. I stayed silent, letting the quiet stoke her concern. What if the Grand Duke collapsing meant something serious?
"Listen, Daniela."
"Yes, Your Grace."
"It pissed me off so much. You're my Grand Duchess, and I treasure you."
"I-I know."
"But that lowly scum eyeing you like that? I hated it."
Pure truth. He still saw her as the pitiful fallen heroine.
"That's why. You're terribly important to me."