Curious and at the same time amused, Jurgen stood up from his seat, walked over to Dahlia, who was on a chair, and leaned against the desk.

“You are right. Thanks for being honest. So, what kind of contract do you want to draw up with me?”

“Are you going to make a decision after hearing the terms?”

“Of course.”

As he nodded, his eyes wandered over the transparent glass beads and cute handicrafts on Dahlia’s desk. Finally, he asked with a suspicious look:

“You didn’t think that you’d set the terms by yourself did you?”

In response, Dahlia shrugged her shoulders and inked her pen.

He burst out laughing. She had proposed having a discussion, but if he hadn’t shown interest, this woman would have been more than happy to shove a completed contract at him without his input.

He had thought her unique, but he had never imagined she’d be this entertaining. Crossing his arms, he nodded and inspected her blank sheet of paper.

“Then tell me what do you want?”

As if she had waited for him to pose the question, Dahlia spoke up,

“Was the conversation we had in the garden of the Crown Prince’s palace actually true? That if I get married, the temple won’t be able to take me.”

“Yes. However, we would have to settle it all before the temple comes forward. It’s a rather pressing matter.”

“Her Highness the Princess is also a guide, but she lives freely. Even if the temple takes issue with me, I believe that the Archduchy of Edelred will be able to manage it somehow.”

“Therefore?”

“Please protect me under the Edelred family’s name. Do not succumb to the temple’s pressure to manipulate me.”

Dahlia Von Klose’s handwriting was unique. However, while the art of flourishing and splendorous calligraphy was highly valued and unique to the typefaces of the Central Empire, she did not show great skill or effort. Instead, her strokes were short, and her font was easy to read.

It was the handwriting of a person who was used to writing—implicitly revealing that she had been educated by a fairly decent tutor.

After Jurgen read the first sentence she had written, he went behind Dahlia and put his hand on her shoulder.

“Alright, I will protect you with my family name.”

With his whispers from above her head, she wrote her second term. Looking at it, Jurgen narrowed her brows.

The second query was about imprinting. Before, she hadn’t known much about being a guide. It seemed she had been studying in the meantime.

“Guiding, but not engraving?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Imprinting is dangerous. And it’s illogical. If necessary, I want the ability to save Gerald and my father.

“They have guides too.”

“I know but… .”

She puffed a cheek out in dissatisfaction, as if she struggled to express herself.

She seemed to think that the role of guiding is similar to that of a wizard healer. People say imprinting is irrational, not because a guide can’t guide many people, but because it’s dangerous.

Ordinary people were reluctant to imprint because of the danger that if the imprinted guide died, the Sentinel would go crazy or lose their lives together.

But maybe… .

After letting go of Dahlia’s shoulder, he took a few steps back and sat down on the window sill.

“Answer me honestly. Have you ever guided someone when you were young? A young boy, probably slightly injured. Approximately in his early teens.”

Dahlia glanced back at Jurgen and, as was her custom, cupped her chin in a pondering posture. Then, recalling that Yvon had noted it was rude, undignified behavior, she placed her hands neatly on her lap.

“Yes. I don’t remember them being a boy, but… . I think there was someone. She was a blonde about my age, and I recall that she was hurt a lot. How do you know that?”

Shit.

Swallowing swears on the tip of his tongue, Jurgen leaned against the window and closed his eyes, troubled. Reynon’s keen eyes were, of course, not mistaken. Noticing that she was Liberty, and at the same time recognizing Dahlia.

But in his five lifetimes, Reynon had never found the Liberty Guide that had saved him.

In fact, he had never tried to find the Liberty Guide that rescued him. But why, now, did he spend so much energy looking for her in this life? 

Why?

For the first time, he was suspicious about Reynon. Something wasn’t matching up.

“That memory, erase it completely from your head. You never guided an abandoned blonde kid a little more than a decade ago.”

In reaction to his militant tone, Dahlia’s rebellious disposition flared up.

“Why? Don’t I need an explanation?”

Jurgen narrowed his eyes as he looked directly into her blue glare, which grew defensive.

“You are the Liberty guide that Prince Reynon is looking for.”