Where a Dog Barks

If only she had taken up some healthier hobby than collecting people, none of this misery would have been necessary. Sighing over it was just as pointless. What mattered now was parting ways with Options One, Two, and Three.

Once the banquet comes.

I closed my eyes. When that day arrived, Asad and Jay would be cleanly cut away. I had wanted a neat goodbye before then, but barely two weeks remained.

I've already demanded that Asad break the engagement, and if Jay becomes the Pope's successor...

A doubt flickered through me. Would Jay truly become the Pope's heir? Why would he? Would he overturn his entire life just to stay at my side? Was I worth that much to him?

It doesn't matter if he doesn't.

If he failed, I could use that as the excuse to leave him. He would be the one who threw it away, and he wouldn't have a word to say about it.

And Sion...

Should I try to find one of the Wolf-kin...?

Even if they weren't from the same village, meeting his own people might naturally turn the devotion aimed at me in that direction instead.

I'll have to start looking in earnest soon.

With that thought, I closed my eyes. I hadn't slept a wink all night, and the fatigue I had been hoarding crashed over me like a tide.

At the word that we had arrived at the riding grounds, my eyes slid open. Ugh. I had wanted to sleep longer. Part of me longed to turn the carriage straight back to the ducal residence and fling myself into bed, but this was one of Aine's few appointments, so I resolved to keep it.

With no other choice, I stepped down from the carriage and stared blankly up at the enormous building rising before me.

...This is the riding grounds, right?

It was so vast and ornate that banquet hall or concert hall would have suited it better. There was even a garden inside, a fountain, and a place set aside for tea. No matter how I looked at it, this was not somewhere people simply came to ride horses.

...It'll be fine, won't it?

I had already been in and out of the Imperial Palace, and yet I was nervous for no good reason. Back then Maria had been with me, and all I'd had to do was drink tea and leave, so I hadn't been this shaky. This place was crowded, and I had no idea when or where someone who knew Aine might appear.

With an attendant's help, I made my way to where Aine's horse was kept. Befitting a riding grounds for the nobility, even the horses were housed in luxury, each one given a large room of its own for a stall. I changed out of my dress and into riding clothes, then carefully stepped into the stall that held her horse. The door was so extravagant that, for a moment, I hesitated, wondering whether I ought to knock.

I opened it quietly and went in, and the unexpectedly plain interior let the tension drain out of me. I had half expected the stall to be plastered in jewels to match the dazzling exterior. It was only a wide, clean stable.

Another large fence had been set up inside, and within it a pure-white horse looked at me and nickered. I glanced at the plaque standing at the entrance to the pen.

"Khan?"

As if he understood his name, the white horse nickered once more and shook himself. Snow-white hair rippled through the air like a wave.

"...Wow."

He really was beautiful. He looked like a horse that belonged in a film. I lifted a hand, cautious, and his gaze followed it.

"There, there. Good boy."

He wouldn't bite, would he? I hesitated, then stroked his face. The horse closed his long lashes and leaned his head into me.

C-cute...

After petting Khan's face a few more times, I led him toward the riding grounds. Contrary to my worries, he followed me meekly. He was so well-behaved that I couldn't help stroking him again.

They say animals take after their owners.

The proud, elegant looks were certainly like Aine's, but that gentle temperament felt like the exact opposite.

There were plenty of rings inside the grounds, so I didn't have to worry about running into anyone. When I reached the dirt-floored arena, I smoothed Khan's mane and made my request.

"Please, just behave."

These weren't the male leads. I had no desire to die in a fall from a horse. Still, Khan was gentle, so I wasn't terribly worried. I set down the mounting block and, with a heave, climbed into the saddle.

Aine might have been slender, but she was still a grown woman, and I fretted that I might be too heavy. Khan only stood straight, as if it were nothing at all.

"S-so high."

It was higher than it had looked from below. I clutched the reins for dear life, the only thing standing between me and disaster. A long while passed after I mounted, and still Khan showed no sign of moving. I frowned in confusion.

"Why aren't you moving? Khan, you can walk now."

I gave him a couple of light taps with my seat as I spoke, and only then did he start forward at a slow walk.

I had ridden in carriages plenty of times, but never on a horse, and even at that gentle pace my heart hammered. Before long, though, I settled into it. Riding for the first time in my life suited me better than I had expected. Perhaps Aine's body still remembered the feeling.

I rode in a daze until sweat was streaming down me. I had thought it would be nothing but sitting, yet it took far more stamina than I'd imagined. Slowly, I climbed down from Khan's saddle and spoke to him. He still looked perfectly fine.

"You're not tired?"

He couldn't possibly understand me, and yet Khan blew a long, fluttering snort. The sight was so endearing that a laugh burst out of me—and that was when a man's voice came from behind.

"It's been a while, Lady Foregreen."

Wiping the sweat away with a towel, I turned my head. A man with hair blazing like a live flame was approaching, leading a black horse.

And who is this one?

He looked as if his hair and eyes had caught fire. His face was strikingly handsome, but Asad, Jay, and Sion had already raised my standards to the heavens, so to me he was merely a reasonably good-looking man. Still, who was he, to greet Aine as if he knew her? Since possessing this body, I had felt all too keenly how narrow Aine's circle was, and the identity of a man walking up to claim acquaintance was a mystery. So I decided to ask him outright.

"Who are you?"

"...You don't know me?"

"I don't."

No matter how I racked my memory, there had been no man with a face like that in the original story. At my answer, he stared at me in disbelief.

"It's me! Me! Stefan le Cocopen, who was once your lover!"

"Cocopen?"

I had heard that name somewhere. I turned it over in my mind and remembered the noble genealogy I had dug through at random, right after waking in Aine's body, desperate to understand this world. Among the countly houses it was certainly a distinguished one; it had been written near the very front of the register.

But what? A lover?

Aine's lover was Jay. No matter how I looked at this man, he fell absurdly short of Jay—in rank, in looks, and in voice.

"Hmm. Was that so? What do you want, then?"

Since he claimed we had been lovers, I dropped into a casual tone for the moment. He seemed more at ease that way, and answered as if it came naturally.

"Why do you think? Did you forget what I said last time? I told you I don't accept your reason for breaking it off."

"...Hmm."

Only then did I roughly grasp the situation. So this man was something like a trial run in Aine's collection. She must have taken an interest in a handsome man from a fairly distinguished house, and then, the moment she laid eyes on Jay, discarded him without a second thought.

If you're going to end it, end it cleanly.

Then again, even Aine probably hadn't expected him to cling this hard. He was a count's son, after all. Once I understood, I answered him plainly. I wanted nothing more to do with the nuisance.

"I lost interest. You just don't appeal to me. So—"

"...You're sick of me? That's the reason you're giving?"

I didn't even put it that harshly.

I stared at Stefan, dumbfounded. He was trembling with humiliation. Looking at him, I felt a flicker of pity. Whatever else he was, he too was a victim of Aine's abnormal hobby.

"I'm sorry, Stefan—no, Young Master Cocopen. I have a fiancé now, and my heart has already left you. So forget me."

That ought to be clear enough. I turned to leave and gathered Khan's reins, and that was when Stefan's voice reached me, low and unpleasant.

"...Your fiancé. You mean that war demon?"

"...What?"

I turned, doubting my own ears. Stefan sneered and shouted, puffed up with confidence.

"What? I'm right, aren't I? Ignorant fools call him a war hero, but the truth is he's a war demon who crawled onto the battlefield himself, starved for blood! Tell me I'm wrong!"

Whether he had raised his voice on purpose or not, several pairs of eyes across the riding grounds swung our way. I looked at him in sheer disbelief.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"You fell head over heels for that pretty face too, I see. That won't do. A man ought to be judged by what's inside, not by his looks."

"Ha. Unbelievable."

A hollow laugh escaped me, because I truly could not believe it. I had read the words a few times in the book, but I had never expected to hear war demon with my own ears.

Asad survived so fiercely, so desperately.

People who didn't even know the depth of the scar left on his collarbone were only ever busy tearing him down. I had said cruel things myself in order to push him away, but I understood his suffering well enough.

"And who even knows if he's truly of House Reinhardt's blood? The moment his lawful wife died, his old man was out playing with whores, and the Grand Duke himself was scraped up from who knows—"

I couldn't listen to another word. I said it with a cold face. Stefan, who had only grown bolder as people gathered, stared at me in blank shock.

"Wh-what?"

"And what exactly were you doing while the fighting was at its worst?"

"I—I was an honorary knight!"