Chapter 4: 3.1

He was a man with a greater presence than those of the seven giants behind him.

He must have been the chief of these savage bandits by all accounts.

The rest of his men were eating meat recklessly, but their leader had not even touched his food.

His broad shoulders were raised as he sat back on his chair, sipping wine.

He appeared to be calmly waiting for his favorite food to arrive and would eat as much as he wanted by himself.

At that moment, Cherryl couldn’t ignore the frightening thought that crossed her mind.

“We have never met before, but why do I have this eerie feeling that we did?”

It felt like he was the heroic male lead in the original novel, capable of killing others as if they were mere bugs.

Cherryl shouldn’t think so.

There’s no way a murderer was sitting in front of me.’

A famous anecdote among the novel readers mentioned that the hero had gouged a prisoner’s eyes out for glaring at him, slaughtered him, and hung him in front of his camp.

The man kept his eye on Cherryl as he moistened his throat with bright red wine.

She found the man hard to read.

And, not only that.

She had also dropped a ring on his forehead, wasn’t that right?

Head spinning as she thought about losing her pair of wrists, Cherryl staggered to her seat.

“You came, my dear.” Upon seeing her, Marquis Milose greeted her with delight and pointed next to the man’s seat. “Please sit down.”

She didn’t even have the time to feel awkward at seeing her father smile often these days.

Cherryl slowly approached the table and a servant pulled out the chair for her.

The man’s golden eyes followed Cherryl the way a lion would prey on a deer.

The moment she sat down at an eye-level with him, her heart beat out of her ribcage.

As she stared at him up close, Cherryl quickly realized that the man’s appearance drew attention.

His black hair was a little disheveled as a hunter and his gold eyes shone like a dangerous predator who had reigned at the top of the food chain.

His nose was straight, and his lips were bright red below it.

His sleek jawline was trimmed under his ears at a distinct right angle, making the hero appear more manly.

It was fascinating how all of his features were arranged in perfect proportions as if he were a god.

Cherryl had never met a man like this in her previous life dominated by modern medicine.

Most impressive, the hero had a sturdy body and a balanced physique.

The muscles on his shoulders were broad enough to make his chair look flimsy.

Even if she didn’t want to look at them, the man’s sinewy arms stood out.

That kind of body never fails to make her feel strange and make her heart yearn for no reason.

Recognizing the situation, Cherryl turned her eyes elsewhere instead of observing the man.

“This is my one and only daughter, Cherryl. She was as famous for her beauty as her mother.”

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Marquis Milose introduced her to the man with exaggerated hand gestures.

“—and, this is the Grand Duke of Blkanov.” Her father continued. “She is a visitor from the far North, so please treat them with respect.”

Blkanov?

As sweat trickled down Cherryl’s forehead, she turned her attention back to the man.

He had a rough and dangerous aura in him despite his handsome exterior.

“No wonder I felt strange.”

This must have been Kade Blkanov, the main character of the original novel.

She initially thought of him as an older man.

‘Why did someone from the North—the leader of these bandits- come to visit this remote area in the central region?’

The suspicions she couldn’t bring herself to utter wandered at the tip of her tongue.

Pushing away from the clutter of unnecessary thoughts, Cherryl greeted them kindly.

“Nice to meet you, Your Grace.” The man’s thick eyebrows furrowed slightly. “It’s an honor to be in your presence along with the Marquis.”

“Huh? Wait a minute.”

Cherryl picked up one strange thing.

What did they mean by ‘the Great Duke of Blkanov?

Did he become a Duke?

It’s a bit different from what she knew from the original novel, and she sounded awkward even if she said it herself.

Cherryl stared at a circle on the pretty wall in front of her before scrutinizing the man carefully.

He smirked and put down his glass of wine.

“You seem suspicious, My Lady.” The man said in a deep baritone.

He sounded cold due to the inflection of his Northern accent but it was clear and understandable.

Cherryl focused on the man nervously. “Did you think being a chief of the bandits fit you better than noble deeds of a Great Duke?”

The man let out an amused laugh and for her, it was a heart-breaking moment.

In an instant, Cherryl felt like a little rabbit standing in front of a carnivore.

But then, a more honest response came to the surface.

“Do I look better as a bandit than a duke, My Lady?”

She wanted to get a mirror and show the man his own reflection.

Yes, he was handsome, but he was obviously the head of these bandits.

Why would he make himself as high as the aristocrats in this Empire?

Even in the original novel, he was a man who commanded thousands of bandits.

Cherryl answered unknowingly. “Yes.”

She replied in a small voice that was close to a sigh.

Icy silence followed, and Cherryl felt all their attention was on her.

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