I Became the Heroine’s Stand-in - Chapter 56

 

The second day after their return to the ducal estate.

Hyde had permitted her to rest, so Diana planned a simple tea party around lunchtime with Daisy.

“But…”

“But what?”

“I wasn’t expecting to end up here.”

As always, plans rarely went as intended.

Ersivan had abruptly appeared and whisked her away to the training grounds, throwing her entire schedule into disarray.

Diana pouted as she picked up her sword.

As if the weight of the sword wasn’t enough, now she had to bear the additional burden of armor.

Ersivan had declared that today marked the official beginning of her training, meaning she had to wear proper combat attire.

Previously, she had worn only a linen shirt and a leather vest over it. But now, she was clad in a full set of plate armor.

And this was with the weight-reducing enchantments already applied.

She couldn’t imagine how knights managed to spar without such assistance.

“Just a little more effort.”

His voice was infuriatingly encouraging.

Even with that dazzling smile, Diana could only see it as utterly wicked.

Just a little more, just a little more, just a little more!

How many times had she heard that now?

“Stop glaring at me like that and try to follow along.”

That meant break time was over.

Even the short moments of rest were gone.

Her face twisted in distress, but she reluctantly mimicked his stance.

Today’s focus was defensive stances.

Up until now, Diana had only learned the basics. Now, she was moving on to actual swordplay.

Playing the role of an opponent, Ersivan attacked her from various angles, forcing her to block, counter, and react.

Although there was no real intent to harm, Diana still struggled to meet his blade.

Her breathing grew heavy, beads of sweat trickling down her exposed nape.

Even with ice magic to cool herself down, the intensity of the training made it impossible to maintain any sense of comfort.

Leaning forward, hands braced against her knees, she felt lightheaded, the blood rushing downward.

Then, suddenly—

A presence.

Startled, she barely managed to lift her sword in time to block the incoming strike.

But the movement was rushed, her stance sloppy.

Though she quickly corrected herself, it was too late—Ersivan had already noticed.

“You keep losing form when countering.”

His voice held no malice, only observation.

“When you parry, your right hand should stay close to the crossguard, and your left hand should remain near the pommel. I’ve told you this before.”

“I didn’t have time to think! You caught me off guard!”

She protested, but it was pointless.

Ersivan was never lenient when it came to training.

And so, his lecture continued for what felt like an eternity.

She had no choice but to listen carefully, no matter how much she wanted to collapse.

After that, he continued launching unexpected attacks at her.

His strikes weren’t brutal, but they were relentless—designed to test her reactions, forcing her to adapt under pressure.

Diana gritted her teeth and endured, but eventually—

“I—I can’t…!”

She surrendered.

Her arms and legs trembled uncontrollably, and she could barely hold onto her sword.

Only then, seeing the sheer exhaustion in her form, did Ersivan finally call an end to the lesson.

Diana immediately collapsed onto the ground.

Etiquette be damned.

She snatched the cold tea that had been prepared earlier and downed it in one go.

The chilled liquid soothed her burning throat.

“That was quite exhausting, wasn’t it?”

“Don’t… even… talk to me…”

He chuckled, crouching beside her.

From his pocket, he produced a handkerchief, pressing it against her flushed face.

As expected, he had chilled it beforehand.

How absurdly meticulous.

Why is he so harsh one moment, only to be so gentle the next?

“You told me to take things slow,” she muttered.

His hands paused for a fraction of a second.

“…I did, didn’t I?”

There was something strange in his tone.

That had been back when he still believed she was Lillian.

Now that he knew the truth, his approach had changed.

“I’m worried about you, Diana.”

She blinked.

“…Worried?”

“I can’t always be there to protect you.”

For the first time, his voice was serious.

“…Am I in danger?”

“I have too many enemies.”

He shrugged, as if it were nothing.

Yet, his lowered tone betrayed the weight of his words.

“I don’t ever want to experience the pain of losing someone again.”

Again.

That meant he had lost someone before.

His mother?

She wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault, that he didn’t need to carry that burden.

If she were still pretending to be Lillian, she would have said it without hesitation.

But as Diana Mernaard, it felt impossible to offer such comfort.

How could someone like her, a nobody, dare to pity him?

“…I’ll take my training seriously,” she promised.

It was the only thing she could do.

Strangely, she still couldn’t get over one particular thing.

Did Ersivan truly consider her “his person”?

Or was it simply because they were bound by contract?

“…What exactly are they talking about?”

Diana had always had sharp ears. In the brief lull of silence, she picked up on a muttered comment.

Judging by the conversation, the speaker was likely referring to her and Ersivan.

Feeling suspicious, she glanced around and soon locked eyes with some very familiar faces.

“…Ah!”

“Oh!”

“…Told you we’d get caught.”

Joel, Anthony, and Coon—knights of the Valencia Order whom Diana had grown close to during the monster subjugation—stood before her.

Joel and Anthony fidgeted nervously, as though debating whether to run or apologize, while Coon let out an exasperated sigh, clearly having failed to stop them from eavesdropping.

Diana sighed inwardly but motioned for them to come closer.

Instantly, the two anxious knights brightened, while Coon hesitated before reluctantly following.

What had once been an intimate conversation between two now included three more, making the vast training ground feel strangely crowded.

But the newfound company only amplified the awkwardness.

Their group dynamic was… complicated.

Diana barely knew them, which made her feel uneasy.

For them, Ersivan was not just their superior but a terrifying and unapproachable figure.

The result?

A gathering of awkward, tense silence.

Desperate to break the discomfort, Diana blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“…Aren’t you all hungry? How about a snack?”

“Yes! That sounds great!”

“Should I go ask the chef for something?”

Her suggestion was enthusiastically received, with Anthony even jumping to his feet, ready to sprint to the kitchens.

Diana chuckled and waved a hand.

“No need. Ersivan already brought something.”

She turned toward him expectantly.

Ersivan, as if waiting for the cue, stood up and retrieved a picnic basket he had stashed in the shade.

And then—

“…That’s a lot.”

Joel and Anthony blinked at the absurdly large assortment of food.

“Since the Duke enjoys sweets, I packed extra,” Diana explained, glancing at Ersivan.

The two knights froze.

“…His Grace likes sweets?”

The voice belonged to Coon, who looked utterly stunned.

Diana tilted her head in confusion.

“Yes, he does. Why?”

At that moment, realization hit Coon like a ton of bricks.

He had made a terrible mistake.

‘Take it away.’

He remembered it vividly.

Back when he was a fresh recruit, Coon had once offered Ersivan a piece of chocolate after a grueling training session, thinking it was a harmless gesture of goodwill.

But instead of gratitude, all he got was a cold glare and an order to remove it.

Coon had agonized over that rejection for weeks, wondering if he’d offended the Duke or violated some unknown rule.

It was only much later that he learned—

The Duke despised sweets.

Or so he thought.

But now—this?

He had been lied to.

Diana, completely unaware of Coon’s internal crisis, turned back to Ersivan.

“…Ersivan?”

She, too, seemed surprised.

Had she misunderstood something?

The Duke, who had been idly sipping tea, slowly turned his cold gaze onto Coon.

Coon immediately straightened his posture.

‘Oh no.’

The moment their eyes met, he knew.

He had spoken out of turn.

“…A slip of the tongue, I’m afraid,” Coon said quickly. “His Grace naturally enjoys sweets. I, however, do not.”

As if a switch had flipped, Ersivan’s icy expression melted into the warmest, most graceful smile.

Coon shivered.

He had fought in battles. He had survived deadly skirmishes.

But nothing—nothing—had ever felt more terrifying than this.

‘He’s enjoying this. I just know it.’

Meanwhile, Anthony was happily taking advantage of the distraction.

“Wait, Coon, you don’t like sweets? Great! I’ll eat your share.”

And just like that, Coon watched helplessly as his portion was snatched away.

He almost protested.

Almost.

Because the truth was—

He loved sweets.

But after that rejection years ago, he had never dared to try again.

And now, thanks to his own big mouth, he had lost his chance once more.

To make matters worse—

Ersivan himself was eating sweets.

Enjoying them.

Smugly.

Coon gritted his teeth.

‘This is the first time I’ve ever been so annoyed with His Grace.’

But before he could dwell on his bitterness, Diana’s voice pulled him back.

“You should have some, too, Sir Arpinne.”

“…Excuse me?”

“You haven’t had anything yet.”

She extended a plate toward him.

Coon hesitated.

‘If I refuse, I’ll look rude.’

And truthfully…

He really, really wanted it.

Diana smiled.

“It’s just food. No need to overthink it.”

Finally, Coon relented and took a bite.

It was heavenly.

A crispy cinnamon cookie, baked to golden perfection.

He barely had time to savor the warm spice before rich chocolate melted across his tongue.

Diana brightened.

“You like it!”

“I—”

Before he could reply, she was already offering more.

“Here, try this one too.”

Coon hesitated for only a second before accepting.

‘…She’s kind.’

At first, he had been skeptical of her.

But now, as she kept passing him treats, her eyes warm and genuine, he found himself… relaxing.

His initial impression of her had been wrong.

She was nothing like he expected.

And for the first time, he didn’t mind at all.