Another gaze came from beneath the tree.

Liona sat sideways atop a large root, her back resting lazily against it, yet her eyes never left the training field. Every clash of weapons, every shift in Lucas's and Silvara's breathing—she caught all of it with careful attention.

Her hand slowly slipped into the pocket of her apron.

Her fingers brushed against something cold.

She took it out—a small silver bell, etched with strange patterns shaped like gusts of wind on each of its sides.

Liona studied the bell for a moment.

"This thing won't be of any use," she murmured softly.

"But I'm glad the Baroness trusts me."

She curled her fingers around the bell again and slipped it back into her pocket. Her gaze returned to Lucas and Silvara.

—

Atop the cliff—

Matruska finally turned away.

Without a word, she pivoted and walked off. Her long coat swayed gently as she moved away from the edge of the cliff toward a black wagon parked not far away.

The coachman shifted slightly from his seat.

"Lady," he asked carefully. "Are you worried about something?"

Matruska stepped into the wagon without hesitation.

"No. I was only checking on something interesting," she replied shortly.

She took her seat, then tapped lightly on the wooden wall.

"Now, we head straight to the Voss residence."

The coachman stiffened slightly, then nodded quickly.

"At once, Lady."

The whip cracked.

The wagon moved on, leaving the field and the sounds of clashing weapons behind.

Not long after, the wagon entered the grounds of the Voss residence.

The wheels came to a gentle stop.

Matruska stepped down with composed movements. The moment her boots touched the ground, two maids who had been waiting stepped forward and bowed neatly.

"Lady Matruska," one of them said.

"The Baroness is awaiting your arrival in the rear garden."

Matruska gave a brief nod.

"Lead the way."

The two maids walked ahead, guiding Matruska along a side corridor of the manor and out toward the back garden.

There—

Baroness Voss sat gracefully on a garden chair, a warm cup of tea in her hand. A small table before her had been neatly prepared, complete with a teapot and an extra cup.

Upon seeing Matruska, the Baroness raised her hand slightly and gave a light wave.

"Lady Matruska."

Matruska approached and stopped at a respectful distance.

The Baroness stood, her smile thin yet sincere.

"Please, have a seat. Let us share some tea."

Matruska inclined her head slightly before taking the chair across from her.

"Thank you, My Lady."

The Baroness then glanced toward the two maids who were still standing a short distance away.

"You may leave," she said gently.

"I will speak with Lady Matruska for a moment."

"Yes, My Lady."

Both maids bowed neatly, then stepped away, leaving the back garden in calm silence. Only the rustle of leaves and a light breeze remained.

Matruska set her teacup down, her gaze returning straight ahead.

"In that case," she said formally, "what business do you have calling me here, My Lady?"

The Baroness let out a small laugh.

"Ah—come now," she said casually. "There's no need to be so stiff. This isn't an audience chamber."

Matruska let out a quiet breath.

"…Isabelle," she finally said, speaking the name in a flat tone.

"What is it that made you call me here?"

The Baroness lifted her teacup calmly.

"Relax, there's no need to rush," she said casually.

"Lucian is at his tomato field. I've already sent a maid with him. If Lucian wishes to return, that maid will ring the Bell of Wind."

Matruska looked down at the surface of her tea, her voice low.

"Your son no longer seems interested in me."

The Baroness paused.

"Hm?" Her brow lifted slightly. "What do you mean?"

Matruska let out a short breath.

"We've met before," she said flatly. "In Voss Town, I delivered my rejection directly to his face."

The Baroness fell silent, clearly not expecting that.

"He didn't throw a tantrum," Matruska continued. "Didn't whine or rage like one normally would."

She raised her gaze.

"Yet his attitude remained the same. Careless, and seemingly unfocused."

Matruska leaned back slightly.

"As usual."

The Baroness let out a light breath, then offered a faint smile.

"Thank goodness," she said softly.

Matruska did not respond to the reaction. She went straight to the point.

"So," she said flatly, "what exactly is the reason you called me here?"

The Baroness set her teacup down and looked at Matruska more seriously.

"You know about my son's duel with a Regional Knight in a few days, don't you?"

Matruska gave a brief nod.

"Yes. I've already heard."

The Baroness sighed quietly.

"I can't stop it," she said honestly. "Lucian has already made that decision himself."

She paused for a moment, then continued.

"I have a plan…" The Baroness explained the plan—one that her son's ears had already heard directly in the past.

Hearing it, Matruska immediately tightened her grip on her teacup.

"Absurd," she said coldly.

Her tone sharpened as she lifted her gaze.

"You must not do that, Isabelle."

The cup in her hand trembled slightly.

The Baroness immediately raised her hand, signaling for calm.

"Matruska," she said gently. "Just a little help…"

She looked at Matruska with seriousness, though her tone remained controlled.

"I'm only asking for your assistance with one thing."

Matruska fell silent.

"Choosing a place of exile," the Baroness continued.

"One that is far enough. Beyond the reach of bandits—and nobles alike."

Silence settled between them.

Matruska let out a long breath.

"…Isabelle."

She looked straight at the Baroness, without pretense.

"You're still as stubborn as ever," she said flatly. "In that case, I'll do my best to find a safe place."

The Baroness smiled in relief.

Matruska continued, her tone returning to calm.

"So, was that the only reason you called me here?"

The Baroness chuckled softly.

"Oh, come on, Matruska. You're still so stiff and cold," she teased.

"If you keep that up, you'll start looking older, you know."

Matruska replied without hesitation.

"We're not teenagers anymore, Isabelle."

Their gazes met.

A brief silence followed—then the two of them chuckled.

Matruska shook her head lightly.

"I never would have thought," she said, "that the friend I used to trouble all the time back at the academy… would now be the one troubling me."

The Baroness laughed softly along with her.

The atmosphere in the garden grew warm, a stark contrast to the tension from before.

While that unique reunion warmed the atmosphere in the garden—

Inside a small clinic at the edge of the village, the mood was still noticeably awkward.

Mae and Ravena had yet to return to their former warmth. There was no open tension, but the silence between them was palpable. Lina continued tidying up the room with slightly stiff movements, occasionally glancing at the two healers, unsure of how she should act.

Mae arranged the potion bottles on the wooden shelf, one by one, with careful precision.

Ravena stood near the table, then joined in—wiping down the wooden surface and straightening a few simple tools.

Mae glanced at her.

"Lady Ravena… you don't need to trouble yourself."

Ravena gave a light shrug.

"I'm bored," she replied casually. "And I have nothing else to do."

Mae let out a quiet breath, clearly unwilling to press the matter further.

Ravena resumed helping. That was when her gaze fell on a small basket in the corner of the room—filled with fresh red tomatoes.

She stopped.

Her hand reached out and picked one up.

Her eyes widened slightly.

"Oh my…"

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