Big gray eyes and long, silky white hair. A small face with chubby cheeks—she reminds me of an adorably plump squirrel, though those sharp eyes don't quite match such a cute face. And yet, the contrast creates a pleasant harmony. Anyone could tell how beautiful she is.

She's dressed casually, in a loose gray dress that looks comfortable for walking long distances. I can see a bit of development on her chest, but her lovely face draws all attention upward—it's hard to look away.

"My name is Marga Komil, third daughter of Duke Komil. It's a pleasure to meet you. What is your name?" Her voice is a bit deep for someone so young; it reminds me of an older woman's.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Marga Komil. My name is Maki Vichag, son of a baronet in this marquisate." I bow as deeply as I can, giving the kind of noble salute that reflects an understanding of rank and position.

"A noble's son? That makes things less complicated." Her voice came as a whisper, as if the words slipped from her lips unintentionally. I'm not sure whether she meant for me to hear them. "First, I want to thank you for helping us. Things would've been far more difficult without you. Thank you." She dips her head slightly in a simple gesture of gratitude.

"It wasn't a big deal. They would've taken care of everything eventually without me—I just helped save some time." I try to downplay it, but judging by her gaze, I failed. She likely has years more experience in these kinds of exchanges. She wasn't stuck in a dungeon for years like I was.

"I'll speak to my father about a reward for your assistance." Before I can respond, her eyes lock onto mine and she continues. "Actually, let's call it a token of gratitude for helping us save time during a difficult moment." I do everything in my power not to roll my eyes at her wording.

"Thank you, young Lady Marga. It's not necessary, but I can't refuse your gratitude." I search for a way out, but see none. I'll just have to go along with it.

A smile briefly flickers across her face. Though fleeting, it doesn't escape my notice. Her Imra also expresses genuine gratitude and happiness. For now, she doesn't seem like a bad person.

"Are you going to Sol's fifteenth birthday party?" Her question makes me think. I have no idea how Sol and her family managed such a close relationship with a duke's family for them to send their third daughter.

"Yes, young Lady Marga. Sol and I are quite close—I wouldn't miss her birthday." My answer seems to pique her interest. She tilts her head slightly and eyes me with curiosity.

"First of all, I'm trying to steer this conversation in a more casual direction, and you keep calling me 'young Lady Marga.' Just call me by my name while we're in this carriage—or when no one else can hear us." Her tone is framed like a suggestion, but it lands more like an order. For now, I'll play along.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

"Second, I'm quite curious about that friendship. Would you mind telling me how you met? I've known her for a few years, and she's never mentioned anything." A few years? I was still in the dungeon back then.

I stare out the window, debating whether to accept or decline. There's no harm in sharing my story—and she'll probably ask Sol anyway. Without many excuses to fall back on, I begin telling her about the day we met.

The entire journey to Marril City is me talking about my life. It begins with how I met Sol, followed by a cascade of questions. I never stop talking, though most of it is trivial or meaningless—like idle gossip between two women sharing surface-level details.

I'm amazed at how easily the conversation flows. Normally I'm quiet and avoid these types of topics. But the atmosphere around Marga is relaxing. Her demeanor makes me want to respond, and her genuine interest encourages honesty. I've only felt this kind of connection a few times in my past life—when you meet someone and immediately establish a good rapport, leading you to share pieces of yourself.

Marga Komil's point of view.

When Maki entered my carriage, I felt something strange—like the presence of a marquis, duke, king, or even an emperor. Someone destined for greatness. Since I was little, I've always sensed this in people who end up achieving great things—but never at this magnitude.

His Imra is perfectly controlled. Not a single emotion leaks out. I resisted the urge to probe with my own Imra—he'd notice the moment I tried. His magical control is also on another level. He can handle far more spells than anyone his age.

Mains mentioned something about his swordsmanship, though I couldn't catch it all because he was replying to one of his students. I'll ask about it tonight. Lastly, his body is well-trained, and he has a lovely face—one you'd turn to look at while walking by.

Where did this perfect specimen come from? Was he created in a lab? I hold back a laugh at my own ridiculous thought.

We spent the entire ride talking about his life. It was pleasant to hear his calm, slightly high-pitched voice. Most boys his age can't speak so fluently or use so many terms. The more time we spend together, the more interesting he becomes… He's one of the few people around my age who's ever caught my attention—and it's surprising that two of those people happen to be friends.

This whole time, I've been trying to break through his barriers. He insists on treating me as a duke's daughter at every turn. During these next few days in the barony, I'll change his mind.

Maki Vichag, you're an intriguing person. I want to learn more about you. It's a shame we've arrived in Marril City and now have to part ways.

Maki's point of view.

"I have to go now, Marga. I need to speak to my coachman and head home." It's time to say goodbye. We both have full agendas and can't continue this pleasant chat.

"Mine's packed too… but if it's to talk to you, I can make room. I hope to see you again—not just at the party." Her face lights up with a gentle smile, which makes me smile back instantly.

I wave goodbye to Mains and his students as their carriage departs first.

"Time to go home, Samu." He nods at my words. I lie back in the carriage, trying to organize my schedule for the rest of the day. It's full of meetings and conversations with nobles and commoners alike.

"It's going to be a long day…"

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