Hearing Kulgan’s situation, he must have felt a certain kinship.
“Yeah, I get it,” Bard said, rubbing his neck with a grimace. “When a woman’s interested in you, it’s flattering, sure, but if she doesn’t take no for an answer, that’s rough. You can’t exactly be cruel about it either.”
“I have been cold toward her,” Kulgan replied, voice stiff, “but it doesn’t seem to have any effect. That’s the problem.”
“I see.”
Bard nodded slowly, sympathy deepening in his eyes.
His attempt at empathy was sweet, in its own clumsy way. But with their personalities being so fundamentally different, his concern didn’t really land.
When Kulgan replied with his usual stiff composure, Bard faltered. He lowered his brows, hand going to the back of his neck in that familiar “I give up” gesture.
“Bard,” I said with a half-smile, “don’t you usually ask Lady Cynthia for help when you’re in trouble with that sort of thing?”
“Oh, that? Yeah.” His face brightened immediately. “Whenever I’m being followed around and can’t shake them, Cynthia just happens to show up. We spend some time together, and before I know it, whoever was hanging around me disappears. No idea why, but she’s always saving my hide.”
Ah. So he really doesn’t get it.
Anyone else would’ve realized instantly. A man’s fiancée publicly spending time with him, laughing and getting along as they did, was usually enough to crush most rivals’ hopes—especially when that fiancée happened to be Cynthia, who was more than capable of making her presence known.
Honestly, just seeing those two together—sparring, racing on horseback, browsing weapon shops, or comparing new training drills—was enough to make any would-be suitor admit defeat.
Kulgan seemed to reach the same conclusion, giving Bard a look of mild disbelief.
“Bard’s dense nature aside,” I said, chuckling, “it’s true that showing you’re already close to someone works pretty well. Once people knew how close Tia and I were, the number of women trying to approach me dropped drastically.”
“Dense?” Bard repeated, blinking, as if the word itself confused him.
While he tilted his head in genuine puzzlement, Kulgan gave me the same flat, weary look I’d just seen him use on Bard. “With how openly affectionate you and Her Highness are, no one would dare to come between you,” he said dryly.
Ah, praise disguised as exasperation. I’ll take it.
“Well then, Kulgan,” I said lightly, “you don’t happen to have a woman like that, do you?”
“A woman like that?”
“A lover. Or someone close enough that you could make Princess Bistona back off by showing you’re not available.”
I flashed him a friendly smile, steering the conversation exactly where I wanted it to go.
Kulgan’s eyes widened slightly, and the tips of his ears turned faintly red before he shook his head.
“No,” he said quietly. “I don’t have a fiancée.”
“A lover, then?” I pressed lightly.
“No, I don’t have one. Though recently, Milma has helped me a few times when I was in a bind. It’s rather pathetic, being rescued by a younger woman.”
He averted his eyes, as if embarrassed even to admit it.
Oh? That sounds promising.
The way he said her name carried a certain hesitation, a flicker of awareness, and maybe even quiet respect. Not affection yet, but the first signs of something taking root.
“I don’t see anything wrong with that,” I said, smiling faintly. “You’ve been helping her plenty yourself, haven’t you? A relationship where you support each other isn’t a bad thing at all.”
“Do you really think so?”
He still sounded uncertain, but his expression softened just a little, the rigid edges of his usual composure easing.
Yeah, I thought, he doesn’t dislike her at all.
In fact, when he spoke of Milma, his tone gentled in a way I rarely heard from him.
It reminded me of how he’d been around Bertia long ago—back when she’d treated him like an older brother.
Kulgan had always been the dependable one, the eldest among many siblings, and maybe that was why he was vulnerable to affection from younger, earnest types. He just couldn’t help caring for them.
“That’s right,” I said, chuckling. “Even I rely on Tia sometimes.”
“…”
“…”
Both Bard and Kulgan stared at me like I’d just said something implausible.
“What?” I asked. “Why are you both looking at me like that?”
Sure, Bertia probably relied on me more often than the other way around, but that didn’t mean I’d never been helped by her.
After all, her existence alone had changed me.
If she hadn’t been there, I’d probably never have cared this deeply about the kingdom or the people in it, or even the future we’re building.
“Ah,” Kulgan said suddenly, blinking as if he’d just realized something. “You’re right, Your Highness. Being helped doesn’t always mean someone physically does something for you. In Lady Bertia’s case, she often draws fortune to herself without even realizing it. Her presence, her goodwill, her warmth—those alone can be a kind of support.”
He nodded, his expression unusually earnest.
“Ah, that’s what you meant!” Bard chimed in, clapping his hands. “Yeah, I get that. When Lady Bertia’s around, it’s easier to talk to you, and the air feels lighter somehow. Like the room itself relaxes.”
Ah, so that’s how they see us.
It wasn’t a wrong impression. Bertia did have that calming, bright presence that made the room feel lighter just by being in it. But that wasn’t all there was to her.
She worked tirelessly to support me in her own way—attending official duties, studying policies, speaking kindly yet firmly with foreign envoys. She gave her all for our country.
Sometimes, however, her enthusiasm led her to overdo it, and those moments tended to stick in everyone’s memory more than her quiet, steady efforts.
“Well, I could say a lot about that,” I said with a faint smile, “but it’s fine. The point is, whether it’s friendship, romance, or marriage, a good relationship isn’t about one side carrying all the weight.”
“That’s certainly true,” Kulgan said, thoughtful now, his tone softening as he nodded.
“Teamwork’s important!” Bard added cheerfully, pounding a fist into his palm.
I wasn’t entirely sure whether he’d grasped the nuance, but that was fine. Cynthia’s got him covered.
“Anyway,” I continued, “if you feel that Milma’s been helping you, then just do something kind in return. Help her when she needs it, or show your gratitude in some way. That’s far more productive than blaming yourself for being ‘pathetic.’”
“Show my gratitude…” Kulgan murmured. “The other day, she invited me to accompany her on a sightseeing trip as a guard. I accepted, of course. Would giving her a small gift at that time have been appropriate?”