After a considerable amount of time passed, Heron spoke again.

“Isn’t it laughable to squeeze out schemes from that tiny head?”

“I was also impressed by not making excuses when caught, My Lord.”

Carlton thought it was a bit strange.

“He’s not one to repeat the same thing, is he?”

He kept talking about Viola.

Today he seemed to be repeating similar sentiments more than usual.

Was he that disappointed with the youngest princess?

The Duke continued.

“However, things need to change moving forward.”

The first time was a mistake. But repeated mistakes cannot be allowed.

Now that I’ve taught her, the direction must shift going forward.

Bellatu must embody Bellatu.

That’s what Heron’s rational thought concluded.

But he kept recalling that peach-colored chubby cheek and cream-covered face.

Carlton continued.

“Since we had our first meeting today, I believe she’ll show a different side during the welcome banquet. A more Bellatu-like demeanor, I think.”

“That would be wise. Otherwise, she might face execution.”

The sensation of that cheek still lingered on his fingertips.

He remembered the desperate gleam in her eyes fixated on the egg tart, close to obsession.

She resembled a hedgehog searching for its meal.

It was a side of Bellatu’s purebloods he had never seen before.

Her flowing violet hair.

The chubby cheeks tinged with peach.

The careless way she ate with cream smeared on her cheeks and lips.

Those fervent eyes fixed on the egg tart.

The little child who offered it with noticeable reluctance.

Much smaller than the average seven-year-old.

For some strange reason, Viola kept coming to mind.

The Duke shook his head discreetly, mentally repeating several times.

No. Bellatu must be Bellatu.

Like a forced incantation. Like denying his true feelings.

He silently recited.

‘For now, she’s your daughter.’

‘Treat her with care.’

Those words kept echoing in his ears.

Intentionally, forcefully, he thought again.

‘If she doesn’t embody Bellatu, she will face execution.’

*

Meanwhile, Viola returned to her room.

She sprawled out on the bed.

“Wow.”

Today’s experience was truly special.

It felt like she had gone to heaven and back dozens of times.

“Why did he come to find me?”

She couldn’t understand why Heron Bellatu came all the way to Azulegia.

She dozed off for about 30 minutes.

After 30 minutes, she woke up as if she had been possessed.

Upon opening her eyes, she saw Zeno’s face.

“How long did I sleep?”

“You slept for 30 minutes and 12 seconds.”

It seemed Zeno had been there the whole time.

Lately, every time she opened her eyes, Zeno was there—was it always like this for butlers?

It felt like the time Zeno has been around was much longer than the time Viola had been with the original version of Viola.

‘Must be just my imagination?’

In the original work, there was no mention like “The butler stayed with Viola for 22 hours and 11 minutes and 10 seconds.”

In fact, there were many more details left unsaid than what was actually narrated.

‘He was probably this close to the original Viola, too.’

Viola said, “Bring Tundra.”

*

‘I need to check.’

Something strange happens when she meets Tundra.

If they maintain eye contact for too long or have physical contact, she becomes increasingly dizzy.

Eventually, she unknowingly ends up losing her body to the real Viola.

She needed to set a baseline to prepare herself.

Tundra came in.

His wounds had mostly healed, though he was still restrained at the wrists and ankles.

“How’s your condition?”

“Much better.”

“Good.”

Viola nodded.

She looked over at Tundra.

‘No matter how I look at it, I can’t get used to it.’

He looked just like Kang Han-jun at twelve years old.

“Do you know why I keep you around?”

“I know. You want me to become the princess’s hunting dog someday.”

“That’s right. Come closer.”

Viola approached Tundra.

She couldn’t suddenly challenge him to a staring contest or suggest a hug; that wouldn’t work.

Viola decided to confirm things in her own way.

“I need a dog. A well-trained hunting dog with sharp teeth.”

In the original story, Tundra learns swordsmanship from Hixson, who is staying as a guest at the Duke’s mansion.

“What are your teeth for?”

“Huh?”

“What weapons do you handle well?”

“I…”

Tundra hesitated.

Viola then took Tundra’s hand.

She needed to confirm one thing.

A light hold seemed to be okay.

She wasn’t feeling dizzy.

Holding hands was fine.

She examined his palm and fingers.

There were plenty of calluses on his index and middle fingers.

‘This much should be fine.’

Viola gently stroked Tundra’s shoulder and back.

She could feel his muscles. The texture of Tundra’s muscles, contacted by Viola’s fingers, twitched like a live fish.

“Shoulders and back muscles are quite developed. And you were wearing a terribly shabby animal hide.”

“Yes.”

Tundra felt as if his face was flushing.

‘Weird.’

The twelve-year-old Tundra exuded a peculiar feeling that was hard to define.

Did the puppies that accept their owner’s touch feel this way?

That was all Tundra could think.

“The material might be tough enough to protect your skin, but it barely offers any warmth.”

“So you lived in a place with rough terrain south of here.”

You were telling me you trudged through desolate lands near your hut.”

Viola realized this through the physical contact.

As long as she didn’t embrace him, everything seemed fine.

“And for such shabby mountain bandits to ambush and kidnap you, the security in that area must be quite poor.”

…Yes.”

“You and your father were mountain hunters, weren’t you?”

Viola continued without skipping a beat.

After all, she knew all about it from the novel.

“Being a hunter’s child.”

Viola moved her hand. She rubbed Tundra’s calluses.

‘Hmm. Is this much okay?’

She interlocked her fingers and gave a firm grip.

Trying out various things, she continued without sounding odd.

“You must have handled a bow. That callus on your index and middle fingers must be from that.”

“That’s correct. I learned to use a bow.”

Tundra bit his lip slightly.

‘Weird.’

This feeling was strangely familiar.

‘Why…’

It felt like she had seen Viola somewhere before.

That couldn’t be true.

But strangely, she kept getting this odd feeling.

‘What is this… this feeling?’

Viola’s voice came through.

“I don’t need a hunting dog that doesn’t even know what its own teeth are for.”

Tundra gave a perplexed expression.

He couldn’t understand what she was saying. Naturally, it made sense. This was an area he wouldn’t know unless he was a reader of the novel.

Tundra’s teacher, Hixson, had said this.

“Your depth perception is unusually sharp, and your reflexes at close range are excellent.

You possess explosive physical capabilities derived from instantaneous muscle contraction and relaxation.”

“Above all, your body is specialized in ‘Sword Qi.’ You must learn the sword.”

Viola said.

“You are a body meant to learn the sword, not a bow.”

Okay.

Confirmation complete.

Hand-holding was fine, too.

She had to be careful.

She didn’t know what would happen if she accidentally lost her body to the real Viola.

“I’ve never handled a sword before.”

“You probably haven’t had the chance.”

Swords are far too expensive for hunters to wield.

Also, to practice ‘Sword Qi,’ systematic training is required, and it costs a lot.

So unless you’re from the noble class, it’s hard to get proper sword training.

She whispered in Tundra’s ear.

“Learn the sword for me.”

Click.

She unfastened the restraints on his wrists.

Click.

She released the other wrist as well.

I need a hunting dog who has learned the sword.’

Click. Click.

She even unlocked his ankles.

“I’ll introduce you to an excellent swordsmanship teacher.”

Tundra and Viola briefly locked eyes.

Internally, she counted down.

‘One. Two. Three.’

Three seconds felt fine.

Continuing with the experiment.

After around three seconds, she began to feel a little dizzy.

‘Still okay.’

Four seconds. Five seconds.

‘This is my limit… Huh?”

Tundra was the first to look away.

His eyes dropped slightly, and his face flushed intensely.

What’s wrong with him?

Why is he acting so shy?

His face is bright red.

Is he embarrassed because he’s going through puberty?

“Uh… My Lord.”

“What is it?”

“Aren’t noble daughters usually unreserved with touching men?”

Viola burst into laughter.

“A man?”

“Yes.”

It was hard for Viola to see Tundra as a boy.

Despite his seven-year-old body, mentally he was twenty-one.

A twelve-year-old child could not appear as a man.

Now that she thought about it…

The boy, unable to meet her gaze because his face was flushed, was fidgeting with his toes on the ground.

‘He’s cute.’

The little kid asked earnestly.

“Am I not a man?”

“You’re a dog.”

“Then I’m a male.”

Hmm. What should she say to that serious and earnest expression?

Sometimes he had the eyes of a fierce wild beast, and at other times, a gaze filled with longing.

‘Is a child still a child, after all?’

Viola placed her hand on Tundra’s head.

She gently rubbed it.

Tundra didn’t mind this touch.

It was a comforting gesture.

In this world, he had no one left beside him.

He always felt an emptiness in his heart and longed for the touch and voice of another person.

He spoke up.

“I will learn the sword to become a good man.”

“Really?”

“I promise.”

Tundra felt a desire to learn the sword.

‘If I learn the sword diligently…’

His eyes turned toward Viola’s hand.

He could see the hand that had interlocked fingers with him before.

‘Is she going to stroke me again?’

And,

‘Will she acknowledge me as a man?’

That would be great.

That thought filled him with happiness.

“My Lord.”

Tundra knelt down.

Crawling.

He approached closely, almost as if he was crawling on the ground.

He knelt and prostrated before Viola.

“I vow to sharpen my teeth.”

One day, he would earn her acknowledgment as a man.

He lightly kissed Viola’s foot.

This was a gesture depicted when a slave swears loyalty to their master or when a debtor expresses utmost courtesy to their benefactor.

Tundra expressed his reverence with the utmost respect he could offer.

Viola nearly kicked Tundra away.

‘Ugh, disgusting!’

There wasn’t such a custom in twenty-first-century South Korea. It felt foreign to her.

She felt no sense of honored respect; it was merely awkward.

She had spent all day outside.

She still hadn’t cleaned up.

What if her feet smelled?