No, It was My Fault for Loving You

e, who was cherished and loved by her childhood friend Edgar as well as her brother Rembrandt, became aware of such a secret plot.

In hindsight, I wonder why I did not question this when Rembrandt told me about it.

Leopoldo’s thoughts wandered as he walked slowly to protect his right knee, which was heavily weighed down.
But he still doesn’t know.

Oh well.
When this undercover life is over, let’s talk to Rembrandt and the others again.

Let’s express a lot of gratitude and think about what I can do to return the favor in my own way.

And Natalia.

Leopold’s lover whom he promised to protect like the princess in the story.

I have not been able to do anything for her since I sent her a letter once.

Thinking of her face made Leopold feel some anxiety and a sense of elation that was not appropriate for the occasion.

It has already been more than two months since he has not seen her.

I wonder how she is doing.

That weak, fragile, vulnerable person.

I wonder if she is still waiting for me.
I left her alone for more than two months, despite my bold words that I would protect her with my own hands.

I am aware that I have grown up a little, yes, just a little, but I am sure of it.
I wonder if she will be pleased or surprised to see me like this.

Or will she cry that she couldn’t wait?

I wonder what you would look like, Natalia, if I told you that I would no longer talk about things I can’t do, or make promises I can’t keep.

You, a vulnerable person with no way to protect yourself, probably deserves a man who is much smarter than I am, like Rembrandt.

Even if I could stand on my own two feet, I could never be like him.
I still think that wielding a sword is more suited to me than using my head.

Still.
If…

If I whisper my love to you one more time, will you nod your head?

“…”

The good thing about this man, Leopold, is that he is honest and open.

Although he had learned that human beings have genuine thoughts, and also many pretenses, his innate straightforwardness and simplicity remain the same.

But these virtues can also be his weakness at the same time.

There was probably some relief when the job was done and he was out of body checks.
Perhaps it was the prospect of almost ending his life as a slave that made him relaxed.
Or perhaps it was a sense of accomplishment, or perhaps his carelessness.

Whatever the reason, he smiled a somehow hopeful and exuberant smile, which is disproportionate for a slave after a full day’s work in a state of on which his body was full of wounds.

It was just a minor difference.

But it was a little unnatural.

Under normal circumstances, it would have been easily overlooked, but someone had spotted it.

Alejandro’s confidant, Zacharias.

“What are you so happy about, did you steal money from the safe?”

He shook his shoulders jerkily.

He hurriedly tried to fix his face, but there was no way he could make it in time.

He noticed that Zacharias was now standing in front of him.

Even if he asked Leon something, he would not get an answer from this mute slave.

The fact that he was mute had been persistently tested over and over again.
There was supposed to be no more doubt there.

And yet, Zacharias, who should know better, dared to ask Leon.

With a brutal light in his eyes.