The next day, Aelia attended a tea party hosted by the Marchioness, aiming to turn as many guests as possible into fangirls of the Hero—exactly as planned.
Meanwhile, hearing the Saintess was out of the palace, Luke headed to the Royal Guard Knights’ camp.
“Luke! Perfect timing!”
Charles rushed over the moment Luke stepped inside, threw a warm arm around him, and ushered him straight to the training grounds.
“Another sparring session?” Luke asked knowingly.
“That can wait,” Charles said, gesturing to a row of young knights standing rigidly nearby. “Today, I want you to give these rascals a proper lesson.”
How powerful is the ripple of affection—loving someone, and by extension, everything tied to them?
Charles embodied it perfectly.
He held little love for the Messiah Kingdom. He stayed only because of his hopes for Aelia.
Yet that very hope slowly deepened his bond with the nation. He did more. Gave more.
Even when treated as a threat, he still fought for the kingdom—just the tip of the iceberg.
Sent to quell unrest beyond the capital, he eliminated corrupt nobles who stirred chaos and carved new paths for the persecuted.
Confined to the capital, he tirelessly recruited and trained talent.
After dueling strong opponents, he memorized every lesson and passed it on.
If a mentor was generous, he’d invite them to camp so his men could learn.
When the royal court, wary of his influence, reassigned knights he’d painstakingly trained, he simply wished them well—hoping they’d use their skills to protect and build the kingdom.
Whatever his original motive, Charles earned Luke’s quiet respect. He didn’t refuse.
Only one worry lingered: *What if Charles discovers that pink-haired scoundrel’s true face someday? Will he rage? Shatter?*
*(…Speaking of which, what’s that pink-haired scoundrel up to now?)*
Luke’s telepathy reached 100 meters normally, 500 when focused—but Aelia was far beyond range.
Running away? Unlikely. But with her vengeful nature, she was surely scheming something.
He wasn’t afraid of her petty tricks. Still, staying steps ahead—keeping her moves firmly in hand—was the wisest path.
After about an hour of coaching knights, an unfamiliar thought drifted into his range:
*(He’s already close with Charles… How do I get him away? Befriend him through this link? But I’m a woman—he won’t speak openly around me, right?)*
Luke casually glanced toward the source. Behind a pillar peeked a golden-haired, emerald-eyed elven girl.
*(He noticed me?)*
She ducked back instantly.
*(So sharp… No wonder he’s the Hero. This is trouble…)*
Honestly, by Luke’s three years of experience, her reflexes were impressively swift—clearly no ordinary girl. But unsatisfied, she prepared to retreat.
Luke locked onto her and activated “Appearance Reflects the Heart.” An image formed: personal maid and bodyguard. *Of course. Sent by that pink-haired scoundrel.*
He hid a smile, continued instructing calmly, and planned to seek out Elise later.
Unexpectedly, she turned back halfway.
*(No. I can’t run. For Lady Aelia… I must try harder.)*
*That pink-haired scoundrel really does a number on people,* Luke mused inwardly.
Without telepathy to strip the filter, most would be spellbound by her angelic looks and sacred aura—automatically defending her, excusing every lie.
But no matter. Anyone worth saving, anyone whose awakening would sting that scoundrel deeply—he’d reach out. Clear their eyes. Restore clarity and light to the Messiah Kingdom.
“You keep practicing. I’ll take a short break.”
After asking Charles for the rest area, Luke strolled to a bench under the pretense of getting water, waiting patiently.
Seizing the rare moment Charles was absent, the elven maid steeled herself and approached.
“Um… Are you Lord Luke?”
*Nope,* Luke instantly replied in his head—a reflex honed by too many performers in Dickden Royal City.
Even this maid: heart pounding with caution, yet forcing a shy, flustered act, prepping to “charm” him.
“Yes? How can I help?” Luke stood with cheerful politeness.
*Guess I’m acting too,* he admitted inwardly—burying his urge to mess around, playing the upright knight.
“I… I…”
Despite his cooperation, Elise—self-proclaimed romance expert, devourer of love stories—blanked completely.
Theory and practice were worlds apart. Jumping straight from zero to “seduce a man”? Far too much for a rookie.
All her studied tactics vanished.
But her resolve for Aelia won out. She took a deep breath—
“Huh? Elise? Did Lady Aelia send you?” Charles walked up.
Elise froze, then snapped, “Why’d you sneak up?! And why blurt my name like that?!”
Luke had nudged her perception.
His telepathy wasn’t just reading minds—it could gently shift awareness.
He could grimace and shout inches from someone’s face and remain utterly unnoticed.
Or skip class while the teacher *knew* he’d answered every question.
Just now, he’d made Elise oblivious to Charles approaching.
And thanks to it, he witnessed this: Elise scolding Charles with razor-sharp words, while the towering, burly knight stood head bowed like a chastened spouse.
*(These two… their relationship’s definitely not ordinary.)*
