I'll Protect You
Lefonya nodded dazedly, caught off guard.
She wasn't entirely certain whether stealing a duke's daughter's hairpin carried the same weight of sin as treating the Duke of Villemon—the head of a great noble house—like an old friend, but here they were.
"Lefonya."
"Huh? I mean, yes?"
"Just be comfortable. There's no need to stand on ceremony like that."
"How could I dare address the Duke so—"
"You have a lot you want to ask me, don't you?"
Rudeum strolled past her and took a seat on the waiting room sofa.
"I'm actually quite shy. I have a hard time opening up and having deep conversations with people I'm not close to."
"……."
"When someone asks me something, I feel so awkward that I can barely answer."
You're talking awfully well all by yourself right now, though.
"What do you say, Lefonya?"
Something felt off.
The one brimming with curiosity was Lefonya, and the one asking questions was Lefonya. Moreover, the person who should be asking to drop honorifics was Lefonya, and the person who should be begging to become friends was Lefonya as well.
So why was Rudeum doing all of it?
What was more, he was the one actively pushing for it, so why did it feel like he held all the cards?
Well, it's not like this works against me.
Lefonya took a seat on the sofa opposite him.
"All right. Fine. Let's speak comfortably."
"Good. Fonya."
"…That got comfortable a little too fast."
"I've always been a quick study. I learn things fast. It's why I picked up swordsmanship so quickly and graduated early from the Military Acad—ah, never mind. That's useless talk."
The Military Academy? He looked barely old enough to have finished the Imperial Academy, let alone graduate early from the Military Academy.
"Did you have a dream or something?"
"Ha. No."
"Is graduating early from the Military Academy your goal?"
"It's nothing like that, so just ignore it."
Hmm. Well, at his age, it's easy to confuse dreams with reality.
Five-year-old Lefonya gave an understanding nod.
"Fine, whatever. I have plenty of things I want to ask you anyway."
Rudeum nodded.
"About you—"
"Fonya. Last time, you asked for my name," Rudeum cut in the moment she started to speak.
"What?"
"Don't waste it on trivial questions like last time. Think carefully before you ask."
Apparently, he had considered that a trivial question.
"Ahem. Well, then."
"Go on."
"How do you know me?"
Since she still wasn't certain, she tossed out a broad question first.
Did he know Lefonya from before she shrank into a five-year-old child, back when she was known as Pope Fretes's first daughter?
Or did he know the current Lefonya, the five-year-old girl who had been adopted as the Duke of Craitan's daughter?
Whichever it was, she wanted to know how he had found out.
No matter how clever Rudeum was, he was still just a child. If she hit him with an unexpected question, his composed facade would crack, and he would fluster.
"Now that's a good question."
Yet Rudeum didn't fluster in the slightest, nor did his composure waver.
Far from being startled, he even offered praise with total ease.
Why do I keep getting dragged into his pace?
"You asked how I know you. I saw you wandering around that house."
"What?"
"I happened to see you wandering around that house. That's how I knew."
A broad answer suited to her broad question.
"So you really were the one who reported it."
He didn't seem to have any intention of hiding it in the first place. The problem was that his answer still didn't reveal which Lefonya he had seen.
Did he see me wandering around that house after I turned small, or did he see me before that?
Asking that directly, however, would be tantamount to admitting she had been shrunk.
"The Craitan knight who came for me after your report said he didn't know who the informant was."
"I kept my face covered. I rarely participate in social gatherings and my face isn't widely known, so as long as I cover it up, hardly anyone recognizes me."
Right. She remembered hearing that before inheriting the ducal title, he couldn't even leave the estate freely because of the Dowager Duchess of Villemon.
Then was Rudeum the one who swapped my potion?
Wary tension crept over Lefonya's face. Noticing it, Rudeum smiled wryly.
"There's no need to be so guarded around me."
"You could have told me you were the informant before I even asked. Why didn't you?"
"I thought you might dislike it. Now that you're a duke's daughter, I figured bringing up your past life uninvited would be bad manners."
He wasn't wrong. Bringing up her prior life as a commoner to Lefonya, who was now the beloved daughter of the great House Craitan, was indeed a breach of etiquette.
"Did you know I'd be adopted?"
"I'd have to be a god to know that. I had no idea."
Rudeum answered in earnest, clearly trying to ease her suspicions.
"I'm not your enemy. And I have no intention of becoming one."
His voice was calm and steady as he proclaimed his innocence.
I should take my time before asking if he swapped the potion in that shack. If he wasn't the one who did it, I'd just be giving away my own secret.
Hiding her inner thoughts, Lefonya nodded.
"I understand. But I can't agree that you're not an enemy."
"Why?"
"Even if someone isn't an enemy today, they can become one tomorrow. There's no such thing as an ally forever, which means there's no such thing as someone who will never be an enemy."
"You're remarkably sharp, Fonya."
"…Does the head of House Villemon not even know that much?"
Could the head of a ducal house really survive being this naive?
Lefonya studied Rudeum's bitter smile with genuine concern before opening her mouth again.
"Rudeum. When you snuck into my bedroom and told me to survive, why did you—"
Before she could finish the sentence—
Click.
The faintest sound of a window opening echoed through the room. Lefonya, noticing it first, snapped her head around. In that exact instant, Rudeum surged from the sofa, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her behind him.
Thwip—!
A throwing dagger slammed into the sofa cushion where Rudeum had been sitting just a heartbeat ago.
An assassin!
Slipping silently through the waiting room window was a masked intruder.
Did they come for me?
Had the Pope finally discovered that she was five years old? Lefonya bit her lower lip hard.
"Fonya."
Standing protectively in front of her, Rudeum called her name.
"One question at a time."
"What?"
"One question each time we meet. How about it?"
Was this really the time to negotiate terms? And besides—
"Why do you get to decide that?"
"Is this really the time to be arguing over details, Fonya?"
Rudeum drew the sword at his hip with absolute composure. His breathing didn't waver in the slightest; judging by his voice alone, one might have thought he was lounging back and sipping tea.
"I'm the one answering, after all. Even if you ask, there's nothing you can do if I refuse to speak."
Three masked assassins slipped through the open window into the waiting room.
Trading silent glances, they began closing in on Rudeum and Lefonya with measured, suffocating pressure.
"Fonya. You have plenty of things you want to know from me, and I need you."
He needs me?
Lefonya's eyes twitched slightly.
"If you want your answers quickly, think of a way to keep me by your side."
Was there a way to get Rudeum out of here safely?
Lefonya scanned the waiting room, keeping the conversation going in a calm tone so the boy wouldn't panic.
"…How would I know a way to do that?"
"I don't know either. You're clever, aren't you? So hurry up and take me with you."
The waiting room wasn't far from the banquet hall. If she screamed, the waiting knights and guests would surely come rushing in.
However…
What if it's revealed that they came to kill me?
If that happened, her true identity might be exposed to the Duke of Craitan.
Her face went deathly pale, and her fists clenched tight. She needed to scream for Rudeum's sake, yet her selfish mouth refused to open.
"Or you could just join my side, Fonya. Then I'll tell you everything you want to know."
Rudeum extended his hand. As he muttered a low incantation, a gentle breeze swept through the enclosed room.
Beside him materialized three silver wolf spirits, baring razor-sharp fangs with vicious snarls.
Don't tell me he plans to fight them?
Those assassins had almost certainly been dispatched on the Pope's orders to eliminate her. She couldn't drag an innocent boy into this.
Lefonya frantically grabbed Rudeum's sleeve.
"What is it, Fonya? Changed your mind about joining my side?"
Even with three armed assassins closing in, blades drawn, Rudeum casually glanced back at her.
"Rudeum. Get behind me."
"Hm?"
If she had her original body, taking down three assassins would have taken mere seconds.
Even in this five-year-old body, I can still easily handle at least one.
The great equalizer among humans was that everyone had vital points, regardless of size.
And when a vital point was struck, everyone collapsed the same.
Lefonya's eyes darted across the room, searching for anything sharp enough to pierce a lethal spot.
"I'll…"
"Yes?"
"I'll protect you."
At her grim, solemn declaration, Rudeum's eyes widened in surprise. Then, as if he had just heard the most amusing joke in the world, a bright laugh spilled from his lips.
"To do that, you'll have to be on my side forever, Fonya."
"They're here to kill—"
"There's no need for that. You're the one caught up in my mess."
With a flick of Rudeum's hand, the three silver wolf spirits lunged ferociously toward the assassins.
"Those bastards are assassins sent to kill me."
He spoke of a threat to his own life as casually as if discussing the weather.
"Consider it a succession congratulatory gift from the Dowager Duchess of Villemon."
"What?"
"So just stay quiet for a moment, all right?"
Rudeum's luminous golden eyes flashed with a dangerous gleam. In the next instant, he blurred into motion, his blade slicing cleanly through the air.