It had been days since Benedict had last managed to fall asleep easily.
He had even tried exhausting himself with preparations for the expedition, working from dawn until late at night, but sleep continued to elude him.
After staring blankly at the knots in the ceiling for what seemed like an eternity, he abruptly sat up. He strode across the room and pulled on the bedroom door handle.
Then he shook his head, shut the door, and crawled back into bed.
She was nothing more than a fake wife.
"There's no reason for me to concern myself with her."
He muttered the words as though reciting a phrase drilled into his memory.
Of course, that was a rather absurd claim from a man who had been asking Mrs. Verona about Elena's condition every single day. He wanted to make sure she hadn't been so deeply hurt that she'd fallen ill.
Mrs. Verona, naturally, assumed he was simply a devoted husband who worried terribly about his beloved wife.
Benedict rolled over in bed yet again.
She must have been hurt.
A woman who loved him that much was bound to have been deeply wounded. Perhaps she had even given up on him by now.
"...That's what I wanted."
The words left a bitter taste in his mouth.
He had certainly wanted Elena to abandon her feelings for him. And yet, for some reason, the thought left an unpleasant ache somewhere deep inside him.
"Shall I inform Her Highness of your departure date?"
"There's no need."
Mrs. Verona had suggested that he spend some time with Elena before leaving, but Benedict had firmly refused.
He still felt uncomfortable at the prospect of facing her.
In the end, he barely slept at all, even with his departure fast approaching.
The following morning, the garden of the Grand Duke's residence was filled with soldiers.
Benedict's hands moved sluggishly as he loaded his equipment onto his horse.
Ordinarily, he could prepare his gear in no time at all. Today, however, he felt strangely unsettled, as though he were leaving something important behind.
His head kept trying to turn toward the residence against his better judgment, and he had to force himself to look straight ahead.
I didn't even tell her when I was leaving.
Benedict shook his head, attempting to dispel the faint, ridiculous hope creeping up from the depths of his heart.
And just as he did—
"Your Grace!"
His heart gave a violent thud at the sound of a delicate voice accompanied by hurried breathing.
Benedict slowly turned around.
He stared at the woman who had approached him and was now struggling to catch her breath.
Did she come to see me off? But how did she know...?
It had been quite some time since he'd last seen her.
As he gazed at her fresh, unguarded face, still slightly disheveled from sleep, a strange dizziness washed over him.
It had to be because he hadn't slept properly in days.
He drew his brows together, trying to collect himself.
"They say it's a protective charm that'll help you come home safely without getting hurt."
When Benedict finally looked at the object Elena held out, he swallowed.
Heat seemed to spread from the crown of his head all the way down.
Even after the way I treated her...
Never in his life had anyone loved him with such unwavering, wholehearted devotion.
His overheated mind had gone completely blank when a gentle hand tugged at him.
"...!"
The pull was no stronger than the flutter of a butterfly's wings, yet he staggered as though caught in a storm.
In a daze, he accepted the little decorative charm resting on Elena's palm.
And at that very moment, Elena threw herself into his arms.
"You have to come back safely. I'll be waiting for you."
Her golden hair, left untended and fluttering freely, tickled his chin.
Her soft fragrance made his nose sting.
The bluish darkness of dawn was split apart by the dazzling light of the rising sun.
And in the world suddenly illuminated before him, Elena's face was etched into his memory as indelibly as a brand.
******
Throughout the journey to the Principality of Caprice, Victor kept stealing glances at Benedict.
For hours now, His Grace had been rubbing the left side of his chest whenever he had a spare moment, almost as though he'd developed some sort of heart condition.
When the road grew rough and their pace slowed, Victor seized the opportunity to guide his horse alongside Benedict's.
"That thing Her Highness gave you, Your Grace. It's a charm meant to be attached to a sword, isn't it?"
"Ahem."
Benedict answered with an awkward cough, unconsciously reaching for the pocket where he'd tucked the charm.
It was nothing more than a decorative loop made from twisted thread.
And yet, as though it really had been enchanted, his heart had been pounding furiously ever since he'd slipped it inside his coat.
The sensation bothered him so much that he'd repeatedly checked the charm in his pocket, even while riding.
Victor's eyes narrowed with a knowing smile.
"Her Highness truly must love you very deeply, Your Grace."
"..."
Benedict merely rubbed at the corners of his mouth, which had an annoying tendency to twitch upward.
He already knew that, of course.
Still, hearing someone else say it somehow made the fact seem a little more special.
"And you feel the same way, don't you, Your Grace?"
"...!"
Benedict swallowed hard.
He hadn't expected the question to be turned on him.
For some reason, his heart began racing.
"Don't you?"
Victor pressed him relentlessly for an answer.
Benedict reminded himself that this was absolutely, unquestionably, without a shadow of a doubt, solely for the purpose of ensuring there would be no problems with the trial.
Only then did he answer.
"Of course, I l-like her too."
"Kh..."
At Benedict's answer, Victor suddenly felt tears welling in his eyes. Overcome with emotion, he tipped his head back toward the sky.
His cold, solitary lord, who had always braved danger and roamed the battlefield alone like a lone wolf, was now speaking of love with a reddened face!
Victor had never witnessed anything more moving.
The Richard Unit's campaign to subjugate the barbarians proceeded as smoothly as expected.
Despite having spent several months imprisoned, Benedict moved across the battlefield and cut down his enemies with effortless precision.
It was a familiar sight, but no less awe-inspiring for that.
Yet at this very moment, Victor was marveling at something even more astonishing than Benedict's prowess in battle.
Does he secretly boil dragon bones and eat them when no one's looking?
His stamina was simply monstrous.
Night had fallen after the battle, and inside the allied camp, everyone was fast asleep.
Everyone except Benedict.
He was still wide awake, despite having exerted himself more than anyone else on the battlefield.
Even while cutting down enemies, he had repeatedly reached for his inner pocket out of habit, checking that the decorative charm was still there.
And now he was sitting quietly, gazing at the charm he'd taken from inside his coat.
He really must adore Her Highness.
Victor smiled fondly at the sight.
At that exact same moment, however, Benedict was thinking something entirely different.
Does she really love me that much?
Benedict turned the decorative charm Elena had given him over and over in his hands.
Looking at the neatly braided knots of black and gold thread stirred a peculiar feeling in him.
The combination of colors resembled their hair.
His own black hair and Elena's golden locks.
The pale hand that had presented him with the charm had been absurdly small.
Imagining those little fingers working so diligently to tie each knot, all because she wanted the man she loved to return home safely, made his chest ache.
He could feel her love for him in every painstakingly woven strand.
"You have to come back safely. I'll be waiting for you."
Elena's voice echoed in his ears.
The unfamiliar realization that someone was waiting for him to return filled his chest with a warm sense of reassurance.
Startled by the feeling, he shook his head vigorously, as though trying to cast it off.
Whether that woman waits for me or not has absolutely nothing to do with me.
With that firm declaration to himself, Benedict pulled his sleeping bag all the way over his head.
******
The campaign ended much sooner than anticipated.
"Huff, huff. Don't you think the commander's sword has gotten even deadlier?"
"I swear he's taking down twice as many enemies with each strike as he normally does."
Benedict cut through his enemies with extraordinary urgency, almost as though someone were waiting for him.
Thanks to his efforts, the subjugation force was expected to return to the Grand Duke's residence two or three days ahead of schedule.
It was around this time that news arrived that young Lord Spencer, Aiden Spencer, who had agreed to arrange a visit to the Clockmakers' Guild in the Kingdom of Grace, would be calling at the Grand Duke's residence.
"We'll hasten our return."
"Even more than we already have? Absolutely not! We're already three days ahead of schedule!"
Benedict had made the remark casually, but Victor reacted with horror.
They had already been pushing themselves through an exceptionally grueling march. Benedict, with his monstrous stamina, was the only person capable of maintaining such an unreasonable pace without suffering for it.
"Young Lord Spencer is an important guest. If necessary, I'll ride ahead alone."
He used the young lord as an excuse.
Aiden had attended the same classes as Benedict throughout their years at the military academy, and after graduation, he had begun managing Benedict's investments.
Naturally outgoing and easygoing, Aiden frequently approached Benedict first and treated him with casual familiarity.
Benedict, for his part, had never particularly considered Aiden a friend.
Nevertheless, Aiden was the only person outside the military with whom he maintained any sort of regular relationship.
And so Benedict rode on, sacrificing sleep and meals to maintain his pace.
After all, he had a duty to welcome young Lord Spencer as the representative of the Grand Duke's residence.
It certainly wasn't because someone else was waiting for him at home.
In the end, Benedict arrived at the Grand Duke's residence three days earlier than the date he had previously announced.
And the very first thing he saw was a man and a woman standing together in the garden, looking remarkably affectionate.