IHDOE Ch 51

He twisted his lips into a smirk.

[Tyron] "Hearing words like that come out of your mouth... I guess the rumors about you changing recently are true."

Maintaining her distance, Satina stared at him with a cold expression.

I wondered who held an Affection level of minus sixty, but if it's you, that makes complete sense.

An Affection score of minus sixty usually belonged to the child of a sworn enemy. Except this bastard wasn't the child of an enemy—they were sworn enemies themselves.

He possessed fine looks along with the wealth and honor of the future Duke of Ascalon. Society claimed women obsessed with him could line up outside the capital, but Satina wasn't fooled by his handsome face.

[Tyron] "Come on, let's greet each other properly like old friends."

He reached out, grabbing her wrist to drag her into a forced embrace.

The moment she touched him, her dress would be ruined by the beast carcasses coating his armor, but fortunately, no such disaster occurred.

Katan, standing beside her, snatched his wrist mid-air. Tyron finally turned his gaze toward the man standing beside her.

[Tyron] "Ha? What is this? You carry an escort around now, Satina?"

[Satina] "Thanks to a certain someone. Coming to meet a lunatic like you, shouldn't I bring at least one safety measure?"

[Tyron] "As if a creature like this counts as a safety measure."

[Satina] "Seems to be doing a fine job right now, doesn't he?"

She glanced at his wrist pinned in Katan's grip.

[Satina] "Besides, a hug, Tyron? No matter how close we used to be, cross no boundaries."

Offering a bright smile, she dropped the simplest phrase capable of turning his stomach inside out.

[Satina] "After all, I'm your lord's fiancée. A hug? Goodness, I'd be terrified someone might misunderstand."

He ground his teeth, glaring at her.

[Tyron] "Ha! You used to freak out whenever you saw me, but now you stand with your chin held high. Did you swallow some potion for courage before coming here?"

[Satina] "I became like this thanks to a certain someone."

[Tyron] "Do I hold a stake in that transformation?"

[Satina] "You know it well."

Tyron burst into sharp laughter. In the surrounding quiet, his laughter echoed alone.

Satina gave up trying to understand him; ordinary logic could never comprehend a lunatic.

His eyes gleamed with wild intensity.

[Tyron] "Sure, fine! Let's get along nicely from now on. Welcome to the West Fortress with all my heart, Satina. Though I wonder just how long you'll manage to endure."

---

Finishing her greeting with Tyron, Satina and the knights headed to their assigned quarters.

Unpacking the luggage, her maid Cheney spoke up.

[Cheney] "Regarding Lord Tyron... I heard rumors often, but he seems far stranger in person."

[Satina] "Well..."

[Cheney] "Still, I was surprised. I heard Lord Tyron is a half-beastkin with a dog, but he shows no sign of it at all. Usually beastkin show ears or tails."

[Satina] "Don't speak of that outside. If he hears you, he'll throw a fit."

[Cheney] "Ah! Right! I heard he despises anyone bringing up beastkin or dogs!"

House Ascalon had been loyal confidants to the emperor for generations. As the family heir, Tyron was a loyal knight ready to tear apart anyone at his master's command.

The public dubbed him the "Mad Dog" or the "Crown Prince's Watchdog," though no one dared utter those nicknames to his face. Born to a dog-beastkin mother, he reacted with extreme sensitivity whenever anyone mentioned beastkin or dogs in his presence.

Still, to think that lunatic was a male lead target.

In the game, Tyron appeared purely as the Crown Prince's loyal knight, showing no emotional exchange with the heroine. Though he displayed goodwill and protected her, it was merely the duty a subject owed to his lord's intended—nothing more, nothing less.

Satina let out another long sigh. The only person he hates is me.

True to his nature, Tyron pledged ferocious loyalty to his master. Consequently, he could never tolerate his lord being engaged to a woman like Satina. He repeatedly urged Satina to dissolve the betrothal, actively playing matchmaker the moment the Crown Prince showed interest in the heroine.

Seeing Target 5's Affection hit minus sixty, I made the right call giving up on him early.

It felt like a sharp slap in the face. Of course, her relationship with Tyron hadn't always been this wretched. There had been a time when they could almost be called friends.

Satina reminisced about the day she first met him.

---

Back then, she was twelve years old and still possessed faint holy power.

Duke Bersabet was a greedy man. Not content with making her a saintess, he sought to turn her into empress to seize control of the imperial family.

Naturally, the imperial court saw through his glaring ambition and banned private meetings between the Crown Prince and Satina.

His blatant greed transformed Satina into a laughingstock, yet the Duke never surrendered. He dragged young Satina to every banquet attended by the Crown Prince, abusing her to force her into seducing him.

Naturally, the Crown Prince harbored no interest in Satina. As the future ruler of the empire, swarms of nobles sought his conversation, leaving him no reason to interact with a mocked girl.

She first met Tyron at a banquet she was forced to attend. Contrary to the Duke's intelligence, the Crown Prince never showed up that day. Though not her fault, returning home meant enduring his inevitable rage.

Barely twelve and terrified of her father's wrath, Satina hid in a deserted garden instead of returning home immediately.

Others envied her overnight elevation to ducal daughter, yet she couldn't comprehend what there was to envy. Becoming the Duke's daughter meant studying over ten hours a day while enduring abuse and cold neglect at home.

[Satina] "I want to go home."

Living alone with her mother had been better. Though her mother neglected her back then, at least she hadn't suffered this kind of abuse.

Shortly, a maid sent by her father would arrive to fetch her. Staring at the high stone wall surrounding the estate, she contemplated slipping away secretly.

Then, she witnessed a brawl in a secluded corner of the garden. Four boys her age surrounded a brown-haired boy, throwing punches. The brown-haired boy fought back viciously—flinging handfuls of dirt, swinging his fists, and even biting another boy's forearm.

[Boy] "Argh! Look at this dog-mutt biting people!"

[Tyron] "Yeah! I'm a rabid mutt, you bastards!"

It was a literal dogfight. Despite four-against-one odds, the brawl seemed to lean in favor of the brown-haired boy.

Just then, one boy crept up behind him holding a jagged rock. Busy fighting off the others, the brown-haired boy failed to notice the ambush. A strike with that stone would certainly kill or cripple him.

Satina burst from the bushes, shoving the boy with the stone.

[Satina] "Stop it!"

The boy stumbled with a yell. Turning belatedly, the brown-haired boy spotted the rock in his attacker's hand and flared with rage.

[Tyron] "You dirty, cowardly bastards! Jumping me four-on-one wasn't enough, so you tried to bash my head with a rock? Right, you're all dead today!"

[Boy] "H-Hey! Run!"

[Boy] "Damn it! I'm telling my mom on you!"

Bruised and weeping, the boys fled the garden frantically.

Spitting bloody saliva onto the ground, the brown-haired boy snorted.

[Tyron] "Idiots, acting tough."

Though speaking boastfully, he was in terrible shape. His clothes hung in tattered rags, and his face was so swollen his features were barely recognizable.

Glaring at Satina, he grumbled.

[Tyron] "Who are you? I could've handled them fine on my own without you jumping in."

She remained silent, yet he rambled on endlessly by himself.

[Tyron] "What if you took a stray punch? Do you think anyone would thank you if you got hurt?"

[Tyron] "Not that I'm ungrateful. Argh, fine! Thanks for helping! But this is the last time I'm saying thank you, so don't do this again! Next time you see something like this, just run!"

He snapped his head away, revealing a flushed red neck.

He's embarrassed.

As she stared at him, he barked again.

[Tyron] "Why aren't you answering? I told you not to get involved in fights!"

[Satina] "Why were you fighting them earlier?"

[Tyron] "I didn't want to fight either! They started it first, talking trash about my mother being a beastkin!"

His words instantly revealed his identity to Satina.

Tyron Ascalon. He was the illegitimate son Duke Ascalon had brought home a few years prior. Having failed to sire an heir with his duchess, he eventually brought Tyron—his sole bloodline—into the ducal estate.

Many envied Tyron, yet his life was anything but smooth. The duchess despised her husband's surprise bastard, and the family retainers refused to welcome someone tainted with dog-beastkin blood. Had the Duke possessed any other child, he never would have acknowledged Tyron as his heir.

Identifying with his plight and concerned by his injuries, Satina grabbed his hand firmly.

[Tyron] "Wh-What! Why are you grabbing my hand out of nowhere?!"

His face flushed bright crimson, looking ready to burst.

[Satina] "I'll heal you."

[Tyron] "What?"

Closing her eyes tightly, Satina sang a soft hymn. A radiant glow enveloped them, sealing his wounds instantly.

[Satina] "Does it still hurt?"

Staring in disbelief, he muttered.

[Tyron] "Are you... that saintess candidate? Satina Bersabet?"

[Satina] "Yes."

[Tyron] "The one whose father is obsessed with marrying off to the Crown Prince..."

He clamped his mouth shut, catching himself. Satina offered a bitter smile and nodded. Looking at her, he let out a quiet scoff.

[Tyron] "You have it rough too."

That was their very first meeting.

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