Though both were running, neither had left the estate. Arman simply led Evelia away from the clamor to a relatively serene spot for a brief rest.

The rear garden stretched vast, dotted with small pavilions. He chose one with a pleasant view—lifting his gaze, the moon hung perfectly in the sky.

"Phew… Sorry for dragging you along so long. Didn’t expect your stamina to be this good."

Arman loosened the slightly heavy cloak, letting the heat from their run dissipate. Made of animal fur, it was warm yet weighty.

Evelia stood calmly beside him. Though both had just sprinted, aside from mild warmth, neither showed fatigue. As a warrior, Arman wouldn’t tire easily—but Evelia’s ease quietly confirmed his suspicions.

"A maid must have ample stamina to serve her master well."

Her cheeks still flushed from running, Evelia smoothed her disheveled pink hair with a placid expression.

"True," Arman chuckled. "Being a maid’s physically demanding. Cleaning this huge courtyard isn’t much easier than target practice." He sat casually on the stone bench. The cold seeped through instantly. "Don’t be stiff. Sit."

He patted the space beside him, removed his cloak, and laid it down as a cushion.

"…" Evelia paused briefly, then sat. "Thank you."

She wasn’t one to seek comfort—but her mission was to earn Arman’s trust. Moments like this? She wouldn’t miss them.

"From now on, we’re ‘accomplices.’ No need for such formality in private."

"…"

What next? She hadn’t planned that far. This mission required emotional closeness—something foreign to her. Before, she was just a blade. The Second Prince entrusted her solely for her loyalty.

…Just sit like this?

She’d expected *him* to break the silence. Instead, he gazed quietly at the moon—thoughtful or simply spacing out—fingers tapping a soft *tap-tap-tap*.

"Eve."

"Yes, I’m here."

After a long silence, Arman spoke. With a quiet *click*, he dragged a finger across the bench like striking a line through text, then tilted his head slightly toward her.

Evelia turned. Moonlight softened his profile. She’d always watched his blue eyes—unreadable whether he smiled or raged. Always that gentle warmth. A kindness she, a killer of many years, had never known.

How could a battle-seasoned man carry such gentleness? Arman, Captain of the Royal Knights, must have more blood on his hands than she did. Yet he smiled like that. Numbness? Acceptance? …She didn’t know.

Her face stayed blank. This emptiness was her training. No emotions. Only obedience.

If he asked her to shed her dress now, she’d bare her unfamiliar body without hesitation. For the mission. Until the Second Prince called it off, she’d do anything to please him—even sacrifice dignity or life. Survival mattered only until the task ended. Death was preferable to failure and his wrath.

Yet… facing Arman, her calm wavered. After just one day, something unfamiliar stirred.

*Maybe he’s just… weird.*

"Have you ever thought about the future, Eve?"

Coincidence? Just as she pondered her indifference to death, he asked.

"The future…"

She didn’t know. For the first time, she felt utterly lost.

"I suppose… I’ll keep being a maid?" Even her calm tone ended with uncertainty.

"You’re already a senior maid young. Future super maid?"

…A painfully awkward joke.

"But seriously, Eve—if you ever hit rock bottom, come to my Knights Order. Your stamina’s solid. We’ve got female knights. Prefer desk work? I’ll find you a good post. We’re fated, after all."

Arman laughed warmly. If she were male, he’d be clapping her back. He saw her not as a servant, but a friend. Maybe even a brother.

"Knighthood feels too distant…" Evelia shook her head. "I’m not suited for it."

"Try first. Everyone here’s good people. You’d be safe with me."

*An invitation from the Captain of the Royal Knights.* A life-changing chance for others. But her loyalty belonged only to the Second Prince.

"You seem close with your knights. Why leave the banquet?" She shifted topics.

"I came for you."

"What?"

"For you, Eve."

"Me? Did you need to discuss something urgent? If it’s a confidential mission, I’ll—"

"Just to find you. Nothing else." He cut her off.

She’d hoped to extract secrets. Instead, his words grew more puzzling.

"You’re my personal maid. High position means high risk. Don’t wander where I can’t see you, Eve."

*Don’t leave my sight.* Whether she grasped the deeper meaning was up to her. But "ambiguity" wasn’t a concept in her mind.

"…Ah." She nodded blankly. His warning held logic—*she* was here to seduce or kill him. Danger truly lingered near him.

…*Was it really just that?*

"Understood, Mr. Arman. I’ll protect you." Doubts lingered, but she set them aside.

"Haha! If I needed a girl to guard me, this Captain’d be a decoration." He stood. "Time to head back. It’s late. Rest up—work awaits tomorrow."

"Yes, Mr. Arman."

She rose, brushed the cloak, and handed it back. He draped it over her shoulders instead.

"You need it more."

Through the thick fur, his hand gently patted her shoulder. He tucked a strand of pink hair free from the collar. Not too close, not too far—but in the chilly night air, she felt the warmth of his breath on her hair.

They walked side by side back to the bonfire site. Most ladies had retired; knights cleaned up, citing "tonight’s special banquet." Spotting Arman, Vice Captain Kale lunged, arm hooked around his neck, dragging him to the keg. "One drink! Just one!"

Evelia returned to her private quarters, still wrapped in the cloak. She folded it neatly on the desk, then picked up the borrowed book: *The Maid and the Knight*.

She’d thought it a guide. A glance at the cover—"Special Collector’s Edition: Combined Side Stories Volume"—told her otherwise.

"…Just a smutty book."

She sighed, closed it. No knight-winning tips—only detailed descriptions of "positions" and "scenarios."

"Completely useless."

Why the girls owned it, she didn’t know. Tomorrow, she’d return it.