Chapter 02
The dressing room of the Lennox estate.
The enormous space rivaled that of most ducal mansions, resembling more a fashion show stage than a room.
Hangers brimmed with expensive garments purchased from all over the world, while one wall was occupied by jewelry and accessories.
Kalif’s comment, “What kind of pervert made this place?”, had been aimed precisely at the dressing room’s color scheme.
Deep magenta wallpaper and soft baby pink lighting.
A massive mirror at the front, mood lamps in the corners, and even the floor itself.
Everywhere the eye landed, it was pink.
Kalif complained that the room, plastered with pink as though in some obsessive grudge, was scarier than a dungeon and made him feel like he was breaking out in hives.
“You know you can be a bit dramatic sometimes, right?”
The sharp remark Mayna had given him back then had become something of a legend among the servants.
“Ah, my head.”
Like a slave put up for sale, Kalif slumped into a chair and pressed his throbbing temples.
Though the dressing room was massive, it was bustling inside.
Besides Kalif, there were nine other people present.
Eight were clustered around him, adorning and fussing over his appearance.
The last stood in front of the mirror, none other than our self-sufficient Adonis.
“This must be what, the fourth or fifth party already? Still, I get nervous every time.”
Adonis spoke.
The pale blue silk shirt only made his already fair skin glow all the more brilliantly.
“Every time there’s a party, I get indigestion. And I’m only helping with preparations in the back.”
The maid Hoji, with frizzy orange curls braided down both sides, whispered softly in reply.
She stole a shy glance at Adonis’s profile, her cheeks coloring, though thankfully only the head maid, Magia, noticed.
“Enough, just wrap it up.”
Kalif’s displeasure was clear.
The brushes sweeping over his face and the hands fussing with his hair were nothing but irritating.
The room froze in an instant.
Everyone who had been chatting fell silent and worked with astonishing speed.
With a gesture, the seasoned Magia dismissed the others, then bowed respectfully.
Kalif, who had been sitting with a face like he wanted to strangle someone, slowly rose to his feet.
His reflection filled the enormous mirror.
Not a hair out of place.
A stiff shirt, a black suit, polished shoes.
If Adonis got nervous before parties, Kalif always felt alien.
Alien, in the sight of himself dressed like this.
Ten years a knight now.
Functional clothing suited for survival was as familiar as his own skin.
“The shirt collar is irritating.”
Kalif frowned.
And when he said irritating?
It didn’t mean, “Aesthetically unpleasing.” (X)
It meant, “So uncomfortable I’m about to rip it apart, so fix it before I lose my temper.” (O)
He didn’t care about makeup or hairstyles, but clothing discomfort was something he couldn’t tolerate.
“I’ll take a look.”
Kalif spun around.
Without a sound, Mayna had appeared at the door.
Whoosh.
Kalif dismissed everyone except her.
As she left last, Magia carefully closed the door behind her.
Step, step.
With her trademark measured stride, Mayna came to stand before Kalif.
He spread his legs to lower himself, as if accustomed to this, so their eyes could meet.
“……”
“……”
Not a word passed between them.
Only their eyes exchanged more than speech could say.
“The collar is rubbing against your chin, isn’t it?”
Mayna’s pale, slender hand smoothed his shirt collar.
Kalif nodded.
In doing so, his lips brushed the first knuckle of her index finger.
Mayna startled for an instant but showed no sign of it.
“First, you could change into a different shirt.
Second, I could fold the collar and discreetly stitch it down.”
She offered two options.
“The third?”
Kalif, as if reading her thoughts, asked.
A faint smile tugged at Mayna’s lips.
“Third, you endure it for today.”
She quickly shed the smile and returned to her serious, intelligent aide’s demeanor.
Kalif felt a fleeting pang of regret but brushed it off.
“The shirt you’re wearing was a gift from the Kingdom of Gyro last month.”
“……”
“It would be proper to wear it at an official event as a gesture of thanks, and it should not be altered.”
“As expected of the daughter of a noble family.”
Kalif chuckled slyly to himself.
“Thanks this, courtesy that. Must be exhausting being a noble.”
“Not particularly.”
Mayna replied flatly.
“Compared to cleaning up after a superior who constantly spreads scandalous rumors, this is nothing.”
Kalif’s brow furrowed instinctively, then shifted to a strange look.
“Mayna. Don’t tell me…”
“……?”
“You’re jealous?”
Silence.
It was as if time froze for a moment.
“Why would I be?”
Her eyes shone with such genuine puzzlement that Kalif gave a small laugh.
“True.”
He added,
“The proud Lady Mayna Winslet wouldn’t know jealousy.”
“Enough wordplay.”
Mayna cut him off firmly.
Ten minutes before the party began, she made her final inspection of Kalif’s attire.
No dust clung to him.
Shirt collar and cuffs perfectly crisp.
The tailored suit fit the muscular 190cm, 83kg frame flawlessly.
Lastly, his slicked-back hair revealed his well-shaped head.
As she examined his hair, Mayna reached out again.
He instinctively lowered himself.
Gently…
Her palm brushed his hair, loosening a few strands into a more natural look.
At last, the piece was complete.
“There. Done.”
“……”
“……Lord Lennox.”
“Yeah?”
“What are you doing? I said you’re ready.”
Kalif, still crouched like he was riding a horse, belatedly straightened his knees.
“I was pumping my thighs.”
“……?”
“There’ll be a lot of pictures tonight.”
Smack!
Kalif slapped his thigh suggestively.
“They need to look firm.”
Mayna shook her head.
“The whole world already knows Lord Lennox’s thighs are firm.”
“Is that… a compliment? Strange.”
“It’s not.
With all the half-naked scandals you’ve had with noble ladies—at least twenty times—the printing press owners probably know what your thighs look like.”
Delivering merciless blows with a blank face was one of Mayna’s unconscious specialties.
“Hah.”
Defeated, Kalif let out a dry laugh.
“Why do you talk like that?
Scandals, really.
They were all just business with fellow knights and healers.”
“Of course.
Just skin contact for mana recharge.”
“You know you’re especially prickly today?”
“Just don’t say anything foolish outside.”
“You mean questions about Princess Parker.”
“You’d better respond with silence.”
“What, are you worried I’ll say I slept with Sera Parker?”
“For heaven’s sake.”
Mayna’s face hardened.
“Don’t even joke about that. Last time you picked a fight with a reporter…”
“Alright, alright.”
Kalif waved her off, signaling he’d had enough nagging.
Placing a large hand on her back, he ushered her toward the door.
Together they stepped out into the hall, where Kurden, Adonis, and the rest of the Lennox household were gathered.
From beyond the hall came the festive music and hum of the party.
Nobles dressed like peacocks filled the venue.
“See you at home later, my lady.”
With a slick farewell, Kalif strode away.
Beneath the dazzling chandelier lights, as if they were his stage.
“……”
Mayna glanced into a mirror.
Her features were those of a beauty, yet her face looked as though she might collapse at any moment from overwork and stress.
Her hair was tied back messily for convenience.
Her dress was plain and worn.
Her bare hands lacked jewelry.
Her beauty was hidden behind silver-rimmed glasses.
……She hadn’t always been like this.
***
They used to say the sun could vanish and it wouldn’t matter, because Lady Mayna Winslet shone brighter than the sun itself.
She had lived like a flower encased in steel.
While citizens of the empire perished outside, the nobles’ world remained safe.
What did dungeons and monsters have in common?
1. Terrifying.
2. None of my business.
Her days had once been nothing more than shopping with young ladies and attending parties in a fragrant ducal mansion.
But the steel armor that protected her did not last forever.
“My lady! The Duke of Winslet…!”
Her father, Tunnel Winslet, was falsely accused and executed.
The charge: attempting to assassinate the Emperor.
The Winslet family collapsed, all their wealth confiscated.
The jewel-like, radiant Lady Mayna became a destitute noble.
Though raised in luxury, she worked at anything to survive.
But not long after, her mother fell ill.
To pay hospital bills, Mayna sold her father’s last keepsake and even went into debt with thugs.
But then…
“Sob… Lady Mayna. The Duchess of Winslet has passed away…”
With the 53 terso left in her possession, 50 went to her mother’s funeral, and 3 she pressed into the hand of the maid who had stayed by her side until the end.
By the time the funeral ended, Mayna had nowhere to go.
She wandered the streets.
Until debt collectors kidnapped her, about to drag her into a brothel.
“Mayna Winslet. Would you work with me?”
That was when he appeared.
Kalif Lennox.
An awakener able to wield mana against monsters and beasts.
In just three years, he had risen to an X-rank knight and become a superstar of the empire.
And—
“You…”
“Yes. Ten years ago, your father, Duke Winslet, took in a starving child wandering the slums.”
She had seen him only once, from afar.
A thin, wolf-like boy with sharp, lonely eyes.
In the time since, he had become wealthy through ability alone.
He offered to pay off all her debts and handed her a contract.
〈Contract〉
1. Mayna Winslet will serve as aide to Kalif Lennox.
2. Kalif Lennox will pay off all of Mayna Winslet’s debts.
3. Salary to be negotiated later.
Term: 10 years.
Signature:
There was no choice.
Mayna took up the quill and signed her name in perfect script.
Signature: Mayna Winslet.
Better to dive into a dungeon barehanded than to dance naked before drunkards.
***
That had been seven years ago.
Which meant she had been cleaning up after Kalif for seven years.
Though with him spending half the year in dungeons, they had really only been together for about three.
Adjusting her glasses, Mayna shut the open dressing room door.
This plain gray dress was just one of about five nearly identical ones she owned.
“When I give you money to buy dresses, why do you always wear that same stuff?”
Kalif had once asked.
“……Good question.”
Mayna had been caught off guard.
She didn’t even know the answer herself.
When was the last time she had taken interest in fashion like the other noble ladies?
When had she last strolled Gillingham Square with her hair shining in the sun?
Now, of course, she knew the reason.
Why?
“Mayna. What are you doing? The reporters are gathering.”
“Sorry, Kurden. Let’s go.”
When 24 hours wasn’t enough just to look after Kalif, who had time for fashion, let alone rest?
Strolling around Gillingham Square? Nonsense.
If she wore a frilly dress and pointed shoes while working, she’d collapse in front of reporters in no time.
Grabbing her documents, Mayna rushed to leave, then stopped.
“Ah…”
A sharp ache pierced her lower abdomen.
Menstrual cramps?
She tried to count the days but gave up, then hurried out.
Into the press conference hall—scarier than any dungeon.
