I have to escape. I can't give up now!
Though Leone wavered briefly after hearing the maid's words, her resolve quickly hardened. No matter how kind her "master" appeared, it couldn't erase the fact that she was now a slave—and once a slave, she would never be free again.
Her only choice was to run.
Surely, someone with his status wouldn't bother chasing her beyond the Capital, right?
Leone had lived off petty theft and street smarts since childhood, but she clearly didn't understand how nobles or the wealthy truly operated. Wrapped in a heavy cloak, she cautiously stepped out of Lancer's room with naïve optimism. But almost immediately, an uneasy feeling prickled her skin.
Everyone—the inn's workers, guests, even passersby—looked at her strangely. And the closer she got to the front door, the more intense their stares grew, until they burned into her back.
Calm down! It's fine, everything's fine…!
A hand suddenly snapped around her wrist.
Leone jolted, eyes wide in shock. It was the maid who'd cleaned her room that morning, staring at her incredulously…
...
As Lancer approached the inn, an idle thought crossed his mind—
Wouldn't it be cliché if Leone got herself into trouble right now, so I could swoop in and rescue her, boosting her affection?
Unfortunately—or perhaps fortunately—nothing of the sort happened. Everyone had seen him leave in his Imperial Guard uniform that morning, and nobody was reckless enough to stir trouble today. When Lancer finally opened his room door, he found Leone sitting anxiously on the bed, bundled tightly in a cloak. At the sound of the door opening, she visibly flinched.
True, Lancer had restrained his impulses the night before, but clearly, his actions had left a psychological scar. Seeing Leone now—small, frightened, like a trembling bird—filled him with discomfort, as if he'd personally crushed something precious.
Back when he was a CCG Investigator, he'd already stopped caring about the so-called "story." Everything he'd done had been to forge a brighter future. This world was no different—joining the Imperial Guard, slaughtering enemies, all of it served the same ultimate goal: change.
But changing things didn't mean destroying everything that was good. He abandoned only what disgusted him; he wanted to protect the things that felt worth preserving. Now, seeing Leone shrink away like this gnawed at his conscience. It was like personally destroying something he'd intended to shield from harm…
"Let's go," he said softly, without consciously intending it. Maybe it was the guilt weighing down on him.
Leone, who'd immediately jumped to her feet the moment he entered, froze completely.
When he'd first caught her stealing, his voice had dripped with amused mockery—as if she were nothing more than an amusing toy. Later, at the Imperial Police station, his gaze shifted, becoming analytical and curious, as though searching for something deeper within her. And last night…well, she'd mentally prepared herself when he'd embraced her, convinced she'd finally become his prey. The blazing heat from his body, the intensity of his desire—there'd been no doubt about his intentions. Yet, inexplicably, he'd held back.
After hearing the maid's words, she'd briefly fantasized about some kind of kinder treatment. But stepping outside the room had shattered that illusion instantly. The stares reminded her exactly where she stood: she was a slave.
According to that same maid, everyone had waited for Leone to make her escape—just so they could capture her and curry favor with her owner. Why? Because slaves were property. They had no rights in this Empire.
The only reason the maid had stopped her was empathy. Leone learned afterward that the "disgusting things" the maid spoke of were something she herself had experienced firsthand. She'd only been rescued because the inn's owner had bought her back, out of kindness rather than necessity. And now, she didn't want Leone to suffer a similar fate.
But even though the maid had stopped her, Leone's heart was still gripped with anxiety. What if someone reported her escape attempt to Lancer? So, when Lancer walked through the door just now, she'd fully expected punishment.
Fear. Worry. Anxiety.
All these negative emotions bundled tightly together, transforming Leone—who normally had the tough bravado of a street-smart youth—into a helpless, frightened creature.
Waiting for punishment, she discovered, was worse than punishment itself. In moments like this, Leone was no different from an ordinary girl.
And now, faced with Lancer's unexpected gentleness, she began to wonder dazedly—
Am I still dreaming?
When they'd first met, Leone had been a street cat, all claws and hissing defiance. After becoming a slave, she'd turned into a sick kitten, timid and subdued. But now…
Seeing her follow behind him meekly, her head lowered, quickening her pace to keep up whenever he accidentally sped ahead, Lancer felt increasingly guilty. In response, he acted even more politely and considerately—yet the kinder he was, the more cautious and confused Leone grew, creating an awkward spiral between them.
This uncomfortable silence persisted until they finally arrived at his new residence.
...
"This is your room. If you need anything, just let me know…"
"No—no need! This is already perfect, Master!"
Eyeing the room—which wasn't much smaller than her previous entire home—Leone waved her hands hastily. Though she hesitated briefly, she forced herself to use the word "Master."
The maid had warned her earlier, vividly describing how she'd once been brutally beaten simply for failing to address her owner properly.
Yet hearing Leone call him "Master" made Lancer's guilt deepen further.
"No, please don't. I'm not comfortable with that…"
"Then… how about 'Sir'?"
Lancer wanted to point out that wasn't much better, but he reconsidered. Given Leone's fragile emotional state, constantly pressuring her would only frighten her more. Maybe…he should let her take it slow.
"Suit yourself."
"Yes, Sir!"
Though uncertainty lingered, Leone visibly relaxed, finally allowing herself a faint sigh of relief.
Looks like he isn't a cruel master after all.
Seeing her expression soften, Lancer's guilt twisted sharper. Yet when she unconsciously offered a shy, hopeful smile, he felt a sudden impulse to ruffle her hair.
Pathetically enough, he had practically zero experience dealing with girls. Instinctively, he reached out, treating her just as he'd treated his comrades like Tiger and the others.
"A-ah! Sorry, I didn't mean—"
Leone froze at the unexpected touch, then flushed scarlet.
How long had it been since someone had patted her head? Not since her parents died, surely. And somehow, Lancer's gentle gesture felt… oddly comforting?
Blushing fiercely, she almost instinctively leaned into his hand for more, but thankfully caught herself.
"It's alright, Sir… if it makes you happy, I don't mind…"
Perhaps due to Leone's eventual future Imperial Arms, Lancer unconsciously associated her with a feline. Seeing her shy reaction felt strangely familiar, but he quickly withdrew his hand. He'd already crossed the line; further familiarity would only seem stranger. Still…was it just him, or had she genuinely enjoyed it?
After letting her unpack alone, he quietly stepped out, sighing deeply once he closed the door.
Though he knew nothing could fully make up for what he'd done, for now this was all he could manage.
...
Meanwhile, Lancer had no idea he'd already caught someone's attention.
Indeed, from the start, Lancer's gaze had been locked firmly on a man most overlooked—Honest.
Why overlooked? Simple: Honest's department might have been important, but it was heavily balanced by rivals. Plus, given Honest's age, few saw him as a lasting threat. But Lancer was different, and now, in Honest's hands lay detailed files on almost every noteworthy figure.
Crunch…crunch…
Honest balled up a piece of paper in irritation and threw it aside.
"Tch! Useless! Absolute garbage! Is it so hard to find competent people?!"
"Heh heh, Mr. Honest, your demands aren't exactly simple. Gathering this information—"
"That's your problem! I care about results! Results, you understand?!"
Gone was Honest's kindly face from court. Now his expression was vicious. The unseen subordinate fell silent—either from obedience or disdain.
Only Honest's loud chewing echoed through the room. Abruptly, the rhythmic sound halted, and a wicked grin split his face as he stared at a particular document.
"Lancer? Ho-ho! Now, this one is interesting… Perhaps he'll make an excellent pawn!"
---
T/N: oh gosh oh goshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh NOO LANCER JUST WANTS TO SAVE PEOPLE AND LIVE BY HIS HEART