Kairon gripped the terrace railing and leaned forward, his pupils trembling.
A woman bearing the only splash of color in the gray-hued streets.
The figures at her side entered his field of view next.
‘...Huh?’
Kairon furrowed his brow.
The middle-aged gentleman guiding the path ahead of the woman.
His face was familiar.
A neat gray suit.
Silver-rimmed glasses that looked strict yet dignified.
‘Isn’t that... Count Aizen?’
The retainer who oversaw the administration for the Grand Duchy of Northgard, and his father's former closest aide.
And the one who had planted "the Romance of the North" in young Kairon’s heart.
‘Young master, beyond that wall dwell warriors like monsters, the likes of which Imperials could never imagine.’
In his youth, after finishing his reports, Count Aizen would often sit the young Kairon on his knee and tell him tales of the borderlands.
The one he had praised to the point of drying spit was the chieftain of the Winterclaw Tribe, Gorgon.
‘The man called Gorgon? Haha, well. I dare say there is no knight in the Empire who could challenge him and win.’
‘Aw, you’re lying. My father’s knight commander is the strongest.’
‘No. That might which makes even wild snow bears tremble... is on another level. Had he been a man with even a little more ambition, he might have become the King of the legendary awe-inspiring peoples by now—the "Khan"—and threatened the continent.’
Warriors acknowledged so fervently by Count Aizen, who was famous for being strict and never saying empty words.
Those stories lit a fire in young Kairon’s heart and became the decisive reason he stubbornly insisted on inspecting this distant borderland before enrolling at the Academy.
‘Father definitely said that Count Aizen had recently stepped down from the front lines...’
For such a major figure, that mentor who had stoked his romantic ideal, to be guiding them personally.
A calculator spun rapidly in Kairon’s head.
‘For Count Aizen to serve her so respectfully... a hidden relative of the Aizen family? Or perhaps a young lady of the central nobility?’
It didn’t matter which.
What mattered was that she was most likely a noble of certain standing.
Then there would be no problem with him approaching her.
However.
‘What is that thing behind her?’
Kairon’s gaze shifted to the hulking man walking right beside the woman.
An enormous frame like a beast’s, draped in a dingy, sack-like hood.
‘Seems like a bodyguard who’s only big.’
But his attitude was extremely grating.
He not only dared to walk shoulder-to-shoulder with his mistress, but constantly bent his head to whisper something into her ear.
To Kairon’s eyes, that figure looked not like a pair of lovers whispering sweet nothings, but like a tactless servant reporting to his master.
‘An ignorant brute who knows no etiquette. Daring to put his mouth near a lady’s ear.’
Kairon clicked his tongue.
If he stepped in and taught that rude guard a lesson, rescuing her?
‘Kyaa! Lord Kairon, you’re so cool!’
It was the perfect first-meeting scenario.
“Let’s go.”
Kairon set down his teacup and sprang up from his seat.
“Follow them.”
* * *
Meanwhile, our group, knowing nothing, was walking down the alley following Count Aizen.
“Count, is the restaurant really this way? It’s getting... gloomy.”
Kara asked, looking around.
Past the splendid main street, we had entered a back alley lined with old taverns.
The floor had spit stains left by drunks, but at least the cold weather meant there was no foul, musty smell.
“Do not worry. True hidden gems are, well, hidden.”
Count Aizen confidently took the lead.
And stopped in front of a shabby wooden building.
On a creaking wooden sign, the letters "The Shelter Between Winter and Spring" were faintly written.
“Here it is.”
“...Here?”
Kara and I looked over the building with doubtful eyes.
The windows were stained with grease, and from the entrance flowed the boisterous noise of loud chatter along with a thick smell of meat.
“It may look like this on the outside, but it’s the best restaurant in the borderlands. When I was the youngest member of the delegation twenty-five years ago, I would soothe my soul with stew here every time I suffered from overwork.”
Count Aizen smacked his lips, as if lost in old memories.
“It isn’t Imperial fine dining, but it’s rustic and rough... yes, a place with ‘a man’s taste.’”
We couldn’t refuse when he spoke so fervently.
Above all, the smell was incredible.
“Alright. Let’s go in.”
We entered the restaurant without hesitation.
And a short while later.
Thud, thud.
Another group arrived at the entrance.
* * *
Guards in shining silver armor, and between them stood a youth in splendid attire.
It was Kairon.
“Y-Young lord!”
The captain of the guard exclaimed, blocking his path.
“This is a place where common soldiers come and go! The sanitation has not been verified, and above all, how could your precious self enter such a squalid place...”
The captain spoke the truth.
This was where border defense soldiers or mercenaries filled their bellies cheaply; it was no place for the young master of a grand ducal house.
But Kairon’s stubbornness could not be broken.
“Quiet.”
Kairon said, his eyes gleaming.
“A true commander must know the troubles of his soldiers. I shall experience for myself what they eat and what stories they share.”
“B-but...”
“Step aside. That is an order.”
‘Not that I actually care about that.’
Only one thing occupied his mind.
The single-minded desire to see that "blue-eyed valkyrie" who had just enter, up close.
Seeing that she had entered such a shabby place, she clearly favored substance over appearances—a bold personality.
She matched his ideal type perfectly.
Squeak—
Kairon shook off his retainers’ dissuasion and strode forward proudly...
Or rather, unable to do so cleanly, he hesitated slightly at the grease on the doorknob before pulling open the old restaurant door and entering.
* * *
Inside, the restaurant was raucous.
“Two more beers over here!”
“These new recruits who came in this time, they’re totally hooked....”
Rough soldiers sat around old wooden tables enjoying stew and beer.
A typical soldiers’ refuge where cigarette smoke hung thick and curses mixed with laughter here and there.
“Auntie! Three special stews here, a whole roast, and... borisu!”
Count Aizen ordered with the ease of a regular.
Still, after glancing at Kara, he ordered barley tea that had been boiled and cooled to the eye, instead of beer.
It was quite a coarse tone, unlike his usual strict noble manner.
But I couldn’t simply enjoy myself.
“Um, Count. The cigarette smell is rather strong here....”
When I subtly pointed it out, Count Aizen flinched and looked around.
Hazy cigarette smoke.
Only then did he realize his mistake. His face paled as he bowed his head.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Barg. I wasn’t thinking.”
He fidgeted, looking at Kara.
“I was so lost in my memories that I forgot the most important fact. With Lady Kara here, even if it is still early in her pregnancy... to bring her to a smelly place like this... Let us leave at once.”
“It’s fine. Really.”
Kara waved her hands, but Aizen’s self-reproach continued.
It seemed Count Aizen had taken on the role of our patron as a sort of nostalgic trip after stepping down from the front lines.
Since this was his first posting, the sentiment was bound to be special.
Intoxicated by the passion and memories of twenty-five years ago, his sense of reality had dulled for a moment.
Perhaps understanding Aizen’s feelings, Kara rustled around in her pocket and pulled something out.
“This will do.”
What she took out was a crude, mask-like filter made of layered dried medicinal herbs.
“Old Baba gave it to me.”
‘The smell of you lazy Imperial folk isn’t good for the baby, wear it everywhere!’
It was a slightly prejudiced nag that came with the mask.
Kara held the herb filter to her nose and mouth and tied the straps.
Its shape jutted out like a duck’s bill, looking a little comical.
But the way she mumbled through it looked nothing but cute in my eyes.
“How is it? Weird?”
“No, cute. Like a forest fairy.”
“Tch, liar.”
We settled into a spacious corner seat.
I considered taking off the hood I had borrowed from the store, but decided against it.
Already my size drew attention; if I bared my upper body too, I’d probably choke on my food.
I pulled the hood back just enough to expose my chin and took a drink of water.
That was when.
Ring!
The restaurant door opened, and an alien air poured in.
“......?”
The noisy restaurant fell silent in an instant, as if cold water had been splashed on it.
All the soldiers’ gazes converged on the entrance.
There stood beings completely unsuited to this place.
Elite knights in gleaming armor.
And entering amid their guard, a black-haired youth in the finest velvet coat.
An overwhelming aristocratic air.
Anyone could tell it was the arrival of a person of high standing.
The soldiers sat with spoons in hand, mouths agape.
I too paused, water halfway to my lips.
‘...Huh?’
A familiar face.
Black hair and red eyes exactly like the cover illustration of the novel from my previous life’s memory.
That gaze, arrogant yet somehow lacking.
‘Kairon von Northgard...? Already?’
The original story’s male lead was right in front of my eyes.
‘But... he’s smaller than I thought?’
I observed him with curious eyes.
In the illustrations, Kairon had been a handsome man over 185 centimeters tall, but the boy before me now was still a growing youth.
He looked shorter than Kara, and his shoulders were still narrow.
‘Right. In the setting, he shoots up after enrolling.’
Right now, a sixteen-year-old brat three years younger than Kara.
But inside that small frame lay monstrous talent.
At that young age, he had entered the Academy three years early, and would later become the "Youngest Swordmaster" in the history of the Empire—a monster.
In the original story, he grew into a broken personality due to his deficiencies and committed all sorts of trollish acts, but his skill was the real deal.
‘But why is he here?’
This wasn’t a place someone of his status should come to.
In that moment of puzzlement, Kairon’s gaze moved.
His eyes, as if uninterested in the restaurant scenery or the soldiers, fixed precisely on our table.
Precisely on Kara, sitting beside me.
Burning intensely.
It looked like lasers would shoot from the boy’s eyes.
‘...Ah.’
I grasped the situation at once.
That look.
A very primal, instinctive gaze of a male pursuing a female.
‘So fate is still in effect, huh?’
Even though the original story had been twisted, the attraction between the male and female leads seemed to remain.
Even if one had become a married woman.
Even if she now carried fruit in her womb.
‘But I’m surprised at myself too.’
Honestly, I had thought reflexive hostility would surge out the moment I saw him.
But seeing his childish features, his baby fat not even gone yet, the hostility that had flared up instantly cooled.
‘Well.’
The reason I had hated the guy was because despite his grown body, his actions were pathetically childish.
He had been so wretched that it aroused a physiological revulsion as a fellow man.
But what was before my eyes now was just a greenhorn brat.
I smirked and rested my chin on my hand.
‘Give it your best shot, brat.’
That was when.
“Here, honey. Say ahh.”
Kara scooped up a spoonful of stew, blew on it to cool it, and held it to my lips.
A very natural, everyday act of a newlywed couple.
“Aahn.”
I too opened my mouth nonchalantly and accepted it.
The warm, savory stew spread through my mouth.
“Is it good?”
“Yeah. It’s even more delicious because it’s from you.”
In that very moment as we exchanged honey-dripping gazes.
Crack.
A snapping sound came from the entrance.
Kairon stood frozen like a statue, still gripping the door handle.
His pupils shook violently, as if an earthquake had struck.