Chapter 3 Your Name
“Phew…”
After finally finishing the tour of this enormous manor, Alman casually sent the servants away, sighed in relief, and tugged at the collar of his shirt, removing his jacket and hanging it on a hook inside the room.
“How do you feel? This is your manor, specially approved by the royal family. Just look at the furniture, the decoration, and there’s even a grand training ground. That royal flag of the First Prince hung up here is truly imposing.”
The old butler looked at Alman, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, with a gaze that suggested “the child has finally grown up and achieved something.” He reminisced fondly about how Alman had struggled from a wandering boy to now being the leader of the Knight Order in just over a decade. It was remarkable how he had clawed his way up to this position.
“Yes, yes… with that bright royal flag, if there were explosives, it would be obvious where to blow it up.”
Alman, somewhat absent-mindedly, leaned on his arm and looked out the window. The courtyard servants bustled back and forth, preparing for the first dinner, and the knights who came with him to guard the manor were excitedly touring their leader’s ostentatious house. A few single knights were even preparing to chat with the maids around here.
“Can’t you think positively? It’s not that dangerous.”
The old butler stood by Alman with a serious expression and sighed softly.
“The bigger the place, the more secrets it can hide… this grand manor is even less secure than my old dormitory in the Knight Order… sigh, let’s just talk about how many people the Second Prince has sent in.”
Alman didn’t lift his head, his gaze fixed on the bustling servants in the garden, his light blue pupils reflecting every hidden corner of the manor.
People often said he was a careless person, and they were right, but if he were truly blind to other details, how could he become a guardian at the royal gates?
If not for his own shrewdness, the First Prince would have likely been brought down long ago by the cunning Second Prince. After all, whatever the Second Prince wanted to do to get closer to the First Prince, he had to go through Alman first.
“Three of them were found and dealt with,” the old butler replied, looking out the window as well. Although he had just said “think positively,” no matter how positively one thought, the Second Prince’s assassins would arrive as scheduled.
“There are definitely more than that.”
Alman tapped his fingers, his nails clicking against the wooden frame of the window.
“I will continue the investigation.”
“Be sure to check if this house has been dug into for any underground basements. If anyone asks, just say I need a cellar for good wine.”
“Understood.”
Alman’s position was established here; he was often referred to as a mere barking dog in the royal courtyard by supporters of the Second Prince, but he had a close friendship with the First Prince. Everyone said he and the First Prince were as close as brothers, and it was impossible for the Second Prince not to target him. Even on the way back to the city after triumphantly returning from the battlefield, he had to remain vigilant against the assassins the Second Prince might have sent.
The Second Prince had a whole Assassin Organization under his command. Even if he wouldn’t openly send in dozens of people, Alman felt there were definitely more than three, and these three might just be the bait for him; the real trouble was still to come.
“Did the Second Prince also send a congratulatory gift for my move?”
“Yes, he sent valuable jewelry and various animal furs.”
“Sell the jewelry at the underground auction for cash, and check the furs. If there’s no problem, distribute them to the soldiers under me.”
“Alright, I’ll take care of it right away.”
“Hmm…”
Listening to the sound of the old butler closing the door, Alman felt even more distressed. He blew on his forehead to cool himself off, but his brows were still furrowed. He had worked hard to live like a carefree person, yet those people just wouldn’t let him be at ease.
“I just want to be someone who enjoys food, drinks, and leisure… why am I always worrying about these things…”
Knock knock.
There was a knock on the big door behind him. As Alman turned around, the voice from outside called.
“Mr. Alman, sorry to disturb you, but the kitchen would like to know what type of wine you prefer.”
The voice at the door belonged to Evelia.
“Wine… I prefer beer.”
“Like the kind in the Commoner District?”
“Yes, that kind.”
“Okay, we’ll set that up right away.”
“Ah—wait.”
Alman stepped forward and opened the bedroom door. Evelia hadn’t turned to leave yet, and their eyes met as she looked up at Alman.
She raised her head, looking directly into Alman’s clear blue eyes. It was rare to see a commander coming back from the battlefield with such a gaze.
However, Evelia’s eyes didn’t seem chaotic despite bearing too much bloodshed. While her pupils weren’t clear, they had a calmness to them.
“Um—” Alman paused, trying to recall the long name of the girl. “Are you going to the Commoner District?”
Remembering names was a significant challenge for him, especially since he had a bit of face blindness. He instinctively felt more friendly towards people with distinct physical characteristics, like Evelia’s striking pink hair. As long as the features of his companions were prominent enough, he wouldn’t awkwardly mix up people.
At least he wouldn’t find himself staring at someone on the street for two minutes only for both of them to realize they’d mistaken each other.
Often at balls, he would simply hide on a balcony, drinking to avoid having to remember the names of all the young ladies, for those noblewomen often took a long time to fuss over strange matters.
“Evelia.” Understanding Alman’s brief hesitation, Evelia repeated her name, “Evelia Kroyer.”
Since the Second Prince’s orders included “make that knight commander remember you and make a strong impression,” Evelia paid special attention to whether Alman had truly remembered her.
“Can I call you ‘Pink Hair’?”
“I don’t think that would be appropriate, Mr. Alman.”
“… You’re really heartless. How about ‘Eya’? That’s easier to remember.”
“Please don’t refer to my name like it’s a term you use when swinging your sword.”
“Ah, ah…”
Alman nodded his head in apparent frustration.
“Anyway, ‘Pink Hair,’ are you going to the Commoner District?”
“It’s Evelia.”
“But your hair really is pink—”
“Evelia Kroyer.”
“Evelia…”
“Evelia, sir.”
“Ephilia—”
“Evelia.”
“‘Pink Hair’ is not allowed?”
“Evelia.”
“Ah—so annoying—”
