[A]midst the ongoing days of training, Ionia found herself grappling with an absence of tangible progress in her techniques.
Each attempt felt like an uphill struggle, leaving her feeling stagnant or worse, as if she had hit an insurmountable barrier instead of advancing.
"I told you to use a metal sword. Wood can't cut into wood, you know?" Lionel's voice echoed across the training ground, his advice hovering in the air.
Glancing momentarily at her cousin, Ionia brushed off his suggestion and headed towards the weapon racks. Despite the expectations of the knights, Lionel, Dionel, and Draven, she didn't opt for a metal sword.
Instead, she returned her wooden one to its place and chose to move forward with her day.
"So you're just going to give up like that?" Lionel's tone held a hint of challenge as he arched an eyebrow at her.
It wasn't surrender she contemplated. Unable to tap into the Blessing of Life due to her yet unawakened state, she couldn't utilize its restorative power for her muscles. Consequently, her sore muscles were practically screaming, unaccustomed to the rigorous training she'd subjected herself to in this new life.
"It's just, my muscles are sore," Ionia replied, the words sounding hollow, but it was enough to momentarily appease her cousin. She headed towards the exit, fully expecting Lionel to trail behind, much like the past few days.
With the Marquis absent from their morning training, Lionel had become more of a nuisance than a companion. Constantly pestering her, he couldn't resist sneaking a couple of sly comments about her techniques.
"Ah? You've been training like crazy, that's why," Lionel commented casually as he approached her.
It had become a routine now. Every day, whether she had lunch with them or not, Lionel would escort her to her bedroom, ensuring her food was edible before leaving.
Initially, she had failed to grasp his intentions, suspecting his sudden interest stemmed from guilt. And she was partly correct; his guilt for the wrongs he'd caused did motivate him. But there was something else about his behavior that eluded her understanding.
"Are you planning to follow me again today?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Lionel feigned indifference, his lips forming a fake pout as he avoided meeting her gaze.
She wasn't complaining, though. Thanks to him, she'd been getting near-decent meals lately. And with Lionel around, Marianne or Alex hadn't had the chance to tamper with her food either.
"Anyway," Lionel began, attempting to change the subject, "Stellia asked me to invite you for lunch today. She said she'd prepared some snacks for both of—"
"Young miss." But their conversation was abruptly interrupted as Gerald, the Marquis's butler, entered the scene, addressing Ionia directly—an unusual occurrence that instantly drew everyone's attention.
Such a direct interaction between Gerald and Ionia hinted at an urgent matter involving her and the Marquis.
"And young master Lionel," Gerald acknowledged Lionel with a bow before proceeding with his task. "Miss Ionia, the master requests your presence."
Anticipated yet mildly surprising, Ionia had indeed been summoned by the Marquis.
"For what reason?" Ionia inquired casually, her expression uninterested.
Was it regarding the discussions she'd overheard between Alex and Marianne a few days ago? A possible proposal for an arranged marriage, perhaps?
She couldn't quite recall any instance from her previous life when her father had mentioned a potential marriage arrangement for her.
"It's a confidential matter. One I have limited information about. I suggest you hear it directly from the master."
This statement intrigued Ionia.
"So it's not about a potential marriage?" she probed.
"Forgive me, miss, but I think these old ears might be playing tricks. What did you just say? A what?"
"A marriage proposal," Ionia reiterated calmly. "I overheard some maids discussing it recently."
"A marriage proposal? What in the world?" Lionel was taken aback. Wasn't Ionia just 14?
"The servants spreading such rumors. My apologies, miss," Gerald intervened hastily. "I'll ensure this misinformation is corrected."
"So, the gossip about potential suitors is false?" Ellora chimed in, her tone carrying a trace of amusement, seemingly pleased by the prospect of Ionia leaving the Lysander household.
But Ionia remained indifferent.
"That's correct," Gerald admitted after a brief pause, slightly irking Ionia.
The marquis had never shown much concern for her throughout her life, so what gave him the authority to select her spouse?
"The master believed…" Gerald hesitated slightly.
"What is it?" Draven's curiosity was piqued too, urging him to continue.
"Initially, there was talk of a potential marriage arrangement between the young miss and Master Draven, but—"
"That's enough." Ionia cut him off sharply with a fierce glare and a dismissive wave of her hand.
So this was how she had easily married Draven in her past life—an arrangement orchestrated by her father.
Glancing briefly at Draven, she wondered if he had ever genuinely cared for her. Yet, amidst her contemplation, Ellora's enraged expression was quite a sight to behold.
"I thought no servant was allowed to discuss matters concerning their masters openly."
"My apologies," Gerald bowed in regret.
"Then let's go. Lead the way. I want to understand why my father chose such an inadequate husband for me." Her words stunned everyone on the training ground, even catching Draven off guard.
But why did he wear such a troubled expression? Wasn't this what he wanted—to sever all ties with her?
"Ionia, why are you—" Draven began.
"Gerald, are my words a joke to you? Didn't I ask you to lead the way?" But Ionia cut in, her voice holding a dangerous edge and her eyes flashing momentarily.
Observing this, the butler swiftly regained his composure and hastened to do as he was asked.
It was undeniable. Everything he had observed a few days ago during the incident at dinner was true. Similar to his master's assessment, he too had noticed a significant change in the young miss's aura.
She exuded an air of maturity, a cold detachment, and what struck him the most was her apparent loss of interest in Draven. The admiration and regard she had once held for him seemed to have vanished.
Initially, they all assumed it might be a ploy to capture Draven's attention, a tactic she employed after her defeat against Ellora Gaillot in their previous duel. However, it now appeared that she had genuinely moved on.
He pondered whether this change would be beneficial or detrimental to House Lysander.
The walk to the Marquis's office was unusually silent. Previously, the young lady would have shown excitement at being summoned by her father, as she had always sought the Marquis's affection. But lately, even this enthusiasm had dissipated.
"We're here, young miss," Gerald announced as they arrived at their destination. With a nod, she approached the door. "Miss?"
Gerald seemed momentarily puzzled. Previously, she would have eagerly accepted his assistance and expressed gratitude, but today, she seemed distant, almost like a different person altogether.
"What is it?" She directed a cold stare at the butler over her shoulder. "Don't expect gratitude from me." Her words dripped with sarcasm, catching Gerald off guard.
"Miss?"
"Remember not to overstep your bounds, Gerald."
He had never been reprimanded by his master before. He admitted that, in the past, due to Ionia's naivety, he had underestimated and looked down upon her.
With her final warning hanging in the air, and under the curious gaze of the two guards stationed outside the Marquis's office, she strode in.