Several days passed. Crowne's life remained calm and undisturbed. Soldiers were searching for him, yet no one realized that the person they sought was right before their eyes. The posters plastered across the city bore little resemblance to his actual appearance. Because of that, he could walk around freely without concern.
At this moment, he was busily cleaning the horse stables in peace, with Ronan helping him. After five long hours, they finally completed the task.
Ronan turned toward Crowne, then glanced around. After making sure no one was nearby, he began to ask,
"Master, who were those two women before? I've never seen them before."
Crowne gave him a side glance.
"Ah, you mean Sylvara and Velrisa. They're my companions. Why do you ask?"
Ronan leaned closer and whispered,
"It seems to me they're only taking advantage of you. They want free meals and free lodging. You'd better keep your distance from them."
Crowne, hearing that, immediately laughed. Ronan was stunned to see him laugh. He had been serious about his warning. He truly believed his master was being used. To him, those two women relied only on their pretty faces—then would drain everything his master owned until he was left penniless.
That was something Ronan often heard from stories told in the tavern below the inn.
"I'm serious, young master. Things like this happen often. You need to be careful," he warned again.
Crowne patted Ronan's shoulder.
"You don't need to worry! Everything is fine, because those two women would never do such a thing. They would never betray me," he said with full confidence.
Ronan was astonished by his master's certainty. It didn't calm him—instead, it convinced him further that his master was already being taken advantage of by the two beautiful women. To Ronan, his master's mind had already been brainwashed. He was sure of it.
"If it's come to this, it will be difficult to make him realize. I'll have to use a more specific method," he thought to himself.
Ronan let out a long sigh, watching Crowne's back as he walked out of the stable with relaxed steps.
"All right then. I'll prove it myself," Ronan muttered softly.
He clenched his fists. In his heart, a small plan had already formed—he would test the two women in his own way. If they were truly sincere, he would be relieved. But if they were only pretending, then he must open his master's eyes, even if by force.
Ronan looked up at the evening sky, painted red by the setting sun.
"Just wait… I'll find out who Sylvara and Velrisa really are."
The next morning, Ronan had prepared a little test. He paced back and forth along the corridor on the inn's second floor, scratching his head. His gaze was sharp, suspicious—like an amateur detective stepping onto his first case.
"All right, this time I'll prove it. If they're really just clinging to the young master, their reactions will show," he muttered.
In his hand, he carried a small cloth pouch containing one of Crowne's belongings—a silver brooch. He hid it carefully under his sleeve, then strode toward the room where Sylvara and Velrisa usually lounged.
As soon as he opened the door, the sight inside made him freeze. Velrisa was brushing her long hair with graceful movements, while Sylvara… was sleeping upside down on a chair, legs resting over the headrest, hair spilling down to the floor. Her mouth hung slightly open, soft snores escaping.
Ronan stared at them in disbelief.
"Are they always like this?"
He shook his head quickly, forcing himself to focus on his mission.
He cleared his throat to draw their attention.
"Ah, excuse me. Something important. The young master's brooch has gone missing! Have either of you seen it?"
Velrisa stopped brushing her hair, turned her head, and shot him a cold, piercing look—then ignored him completely. Ronan froze, uncertain of what to do next. He glanced upward, trying to think of his next move.
"The young master's brooch is missing! It was a gift from his father, the head of House Valden." He covered his mouth dramatically, pretending to have revealed something by accident. "Ah, forgive me. I shouldn't have said that."
Behind his hand, Ronan smirked. He was sure that now, the two women would cling even harder to his master. They would demand precious things, impossible to obtain, knowing that Crowne was a duke's son. Perhaps they would even pressure him into marriage.
He turned to leave—but suddenly, one of the women appeared right in front of him. The woman looked at him coldly, then smiled seductively.
"It seems you're plotting something," she said. She stepped closer, pressing her chest lightly against him. Their faces were so near that Sylvara's breath brushed against his chin. "What are you thinking, young man? Are you suspecting us?"
Ronan's eyes widened. He shook his head frantically.
"No, I'm not suspecting you. I was only—"
Suddenly, Sylvara's finger touched his lips. Her soft touch sent heat rushing through his entire body. His eyes darted, his heart raced twice as fast, sweat began to bead on his forehead.
Sylvara leaned even closer, pushing things further. She pressed her lips against his ear and whispered,
"Would you like to come to my room tonight? I'll make you believe I'm not suspicious at all."
Ronan panicked.
"M-my room? Me?" he stammered, shaking his head violently. Sweat dripped faster down his face.
"I-I will…"
Smack!
Sylvara grabbed her head, wincing in annoyance.
"Ugh… why so suddenly—"
"That's enough, Sylvara." A calm voice sounded from behind.
Both Ronan and Sylvara turned at once. There stood Crowne, holding a large basket full of food. His gaze wasn't angry, but it carried firm authority.
"Stop teasing Ronan. You're making him misunderstand," Crowne said, his tone as if he already knew everything.
Sylvara let out a long sigh, raising her hands in surrender.
"Fine, fine. You're always too serious, Master." She turned away, stepping back into the room while grumbling like a sulky child whose toy had just been taken away.
Ronan remained frozen in place, his cheeks burning red. He couldn't even look directly at Crowne. Embarrassment consumed him. Fortunately, he hadn't finished his response earlier—otherwise he would have been humiliated for life.
Crowne walked past Ronan casually, placing the basket of food on the table. His smile was wide, his expression light.
"You don't need to think so much, Ronan. I'm not a fool. Just trust me! They're not bad people."
Ronan swallowed hard, wanting to explain himself, but Crowne's words sounded too convincing.
After that, Crowne patted the basket he had brought.
"This is a gift from the old woman I helped at the market. She said I could take it home. I'm giving it to you all! A gift for helping me today."
Hearing that, Sylvara—who had been sulking—immediately ran over to Crowne, her eyes sparkling.
"Really? For us? Food? Is there meat?"
Crowne nodded.
"Of course."
Sylvara beamed. She loved meat dearly.
"I prefer sweets. Are there cakes?" Velrisa asked.
Crowne chuckled.
"Yes. You can choose what you like. I brought everything."
Without hesitation, the two women happily gathered around him. Sylvara tugged at his sleeve, while Velrisa hugged his arm from the side. They looked so affectionate, like two little sisters welcoming their brother home with gifts.
Together, they arranged the food on the table, pulling up chairs to prepare for their meal. Meanwhile, Ronan stood silently by the door, watching. He saw how the two beautiful women completely changed once Crowne appeared. They seemed so genuine, so joyful.
Slowly, a small smile formed on Ronan's lips.
"Maybe… I misjudged them," he whispered.