Has the knight lady who married into the countryside fallen into depravity today?

The wheat fields by the roadside undulated in the evening breeze, rustling softly, like a green sea.

All told, this is Ophelia's third day here.

Klein, however, felt as if they had known each other for a very, very long time. So long that he had grown accustomed to her walking quietly beside him, to the occasional inquisitive glances she cast his way, and to saying things to her that he wouldn't normally say.

He suddenly stopped, strolled to the edge of the field, and casually folded off a section of wheat that was still green.

Ophelia stood not far away, watching him quietly, wondering what he was going to do.

Klein placed the wheat in his palm, clasped his hands together, and rubbed them back and forth vigorously.

The rough awns were quickly ground away, making a soft rustling sound, revealing the individual grains of wheat inside.

He brought his palm to his lips and blew gently, scattering the fine husks in the wind, leaving only a few tender green wheat grains lying quietly in his palm. Those grains, bathed in the afterglow of the setting sun, shimmered with a faint, almost transparent luster.

The next second, he tilted his head back, threw a grain of wheat into his mouth, and chewed it casually.

"My mother taught me this when I was little," Klein said, as if talking to himself, or perhaps explaining to her, his voice soft with a touch of nostalgia. "She said that if we got tired of playing in the fields, we could eat these things as snacks."

"So for a long time, I hoped that the wheat would stay green forever and never ripen."

"If my father had known I was thinking like that back then, he would have given me a good scolding." He paused, then chuckled self-deprecatingly. "After all, for a lord, unripe wheat means a smaller harvest and less tax revenue."

As he spoke, his eyes revealed a sense of nostalgia, along with a hint of barely perceptible melancholy.

Those childhood days are gone forever.

He picked another ear of wheat.

Repeating the previous actions, she rubbed and blew away the husks. Her movements were more practiced and gentler than before, as if she were performing some kind of ritual.

This time, he didn't eat it himself, but instead opened his palm and presented it to Ophelia like a treasure.

"Want to try some?"

His voice carried a hint of anticipation, and his eyes sparkled like a child waiting for praise.

Ophelia looked at the few small, green wheat kernels in his palm, then looked up at him.

Those golden pupils shone brightly in the afterglow of the setting sun, like two pieces of burning amber.

She remained silent for a moment.

Then, she reached out her hand.

As her fingertips removed the grain of wheat from his palm, a very slight scraping sensation followed. The touch was fleeting, yet like a feather, it traced the lines of his palm and reached the depths of Klein's heart.

It's itchy.

It's still a little...hot.

His hand instinctively clenched, his fingertips tightening slightly, as if trying to grasp something, but he couldn't leave anything behind.

Ophelia followed his example, putting the few grains of wheat into her mouth and chewing them slowly.

Her movements were very serious, as if she were analyzing something new that she had never encountered before, and each chew was done with a hint of caution.

At first, it just tasted raw and grassy, ​​with a slightly rough, fibrous texture.

But soon, a very faint, refreshing sweetness spread from the tip of the tongue, carrying the most primal fragrance of grains, as well as the scent of sunshine and earth.

The taste was very mild, yet surprisingly...clean.

Klein stared intently at her face, his gaze filled with obvious anticipation, like a child waiting for praise. His eyes were focused and eager, he barely blinked, afraid of missing any subtle change in her expression.

"How is it?"

His voice was tinged with nervousness, and his tone unconsciously rose slightly.

Ophelia did not answer immediately.

The raw, green taste spread in my mouth, carrying a faint, sweet flavor unique to grains.

It wasn't particularly delicious.

Compared to real food, it was rather bland, even a bit rough and unpalatable.

But when she looked up and saw Klein's face, the thought vanished instantly.

He was staring intently at her, his eyes sparkling, and the corners of his mouth couldn't help but turn up slightly; his undisguised anticipation almost overflowed from his face. It was as if her opinion was more important than the result of any magical experiment.

Ophelia felt she should say something.

She thought for a moment, searching her mind for all the reviews she had heard about food.

"Um."

She nodded gently, a hint of sweetness still lingering in her mouth.

"It's delicious."

After saying that, she paused, then added, "It tastes better than military rations."

Klein paused for a moment, then couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"That's a really low standard." He shook his head with a smile, but his eyes shone even brighter. "But... I'm honored that it tastes better than military rations."

The lingering echo of "It's delicious" seemed to still carry a touch of youthful sweetness, lingering between the two of them.

The evening breeze picked up a bit more at that moment.

The wind whipped Ophelia's long, golden hair, which cascaded over her shoulders, into the air, where strands danced wildly like a golden shimmer.

The last rays of the setting sun pierced through her tousled hair, outlining her profile with a soft, warm halo. Her eyelashes cast dappled shadows in the interplay of light and shadow on her fair cheeks.

The light was so dazzling that Klein instinctively squinted.

His breath caught in his throat for a moment.

The sound of my heartbeat suddenly became very clear, pounding against my chest.

He abruptly averted his gaze, almost embarrassed, his Adam's apple bobbing involuntarily, and mumbled a response:

"...That's fine too."

He heard his voice sound a little hoarse.

Damn.

He cursed inwardly.

It was just an ordinary sunset, an ordinary evening breeze, and an ordinary woman.

But why...?

Why did he feel that she was excessively beautiful at this moment?

Ophelia seemed oblivious to his unusual behavior.

She simply stood there quietly, letting the evening breeze ruffle her long hair, her golden pupils reflecting the distant wheat fields and the sunset on the horizon.

Klein took a deep breath, forcing himself to look away from her and return his gaze to the distant wheat field.

"Let's go."

His voice was a little hoarseer than before.

……

What just happened seems to be just a trivial little incident.

Klein felt he had regained his rhythm of speaking.

The awkward atmosphere was dispelled by the evening breeze. He cleared his throat and started making small talk again.

"Speaking of which, we weren't finished talking about using magic to accelerate crop growth last time."

Ophelia glanced at him sideways.

She did remember that it was her first night here.

They even climbed over the wall together afterwards.

When the topic turned to things that interested him, Klein opened up completely: "Moonstone powder can indeed gently nourish crops, but its energy conversion efficiency is too low and its cost is too high, making large-scale application impractical. Even in small-scale trials, the material costs alone could eat up half of the estate's annual income."

He seemed to have returned to his own magic laboratory, walking along while unconsciously gesturing with his hands, his fingers outlining one invisible magic circle after another in the air.

"It's like using gold to make wires; it might work, but it's incredibly stupid. True magic should be about using minimal force to achieve maximum effect, not about brute force."

"So I was thinking, could we try a different approach? Instead of directly 'feeding' the crops energy, let's 'awaken' their own life force. We could use a specific magical fluctuation to resonate with their internal growth cycle..."

He got carried away and talked on and on, from elemental resonance to life alchemy, from magic circuits to the laws of nature, using increasingly obscure vocabulary and more complex theories.

Ophelia listened quietly, her golden eyes showing no impatience, only pure listening.

She doesn't really understand these things.

All she knew was how to wield a sword.

Knowing how to fight your way through a massive army, knowing how to sever the enemy's throat with minimal movements, and knowing how to make the right judgment when facing life and death.

But Klein loved these things as much as she loved wielding a sword.

She could hear the passion in his tone, that almost pure thirst for knowledge and truth.

Just like the feeling when she grips the hilt of a sword.

It was a feeling of...being alive.

So she was willing to listen.

Even if they don't understand it, they are willing to listen.

Before they knew it, the outline of the distant manor had come into view.

A few warm lights flickered in the deepening night, as if guiding them home.

Got home.

Klein's pace slowed unconsciously.

How could it be so fast?

He had a whole host of ideas about improving magic and wanted to discuss them with this competent listener.

For example, how about carving magic circles on scarecrows to turn them into mobile energy nodes?

Or, could we use the wind element to create a cyclical system, allowing magic to flow through the fields like blood?

and also……

Suddenly, the road seemed too short.

It was so short that he didn't even have time to fully enjoy this rare time alone with her, so short that he didn't even have time to look at her more than a few times, so short that...

He even regretted not taking a longer route earlier.

Just as Klein was considering whether to pretend he had forgotten something and stay outside a little longer, Ophelia, who had been silent all along, suddenly stopped and looked at him.

"Your face."

"Huh? What happened to my face?" Klein touched it subconsciously, somewhat bewildered.

Ophelia's gaze fell on his palms, which had just been rubbing wheat ears and still had some fine grain husks and grass clippings clinging to them.

Then, her gaze slowly shifted back to his face, lingering for a moment on his left cheek.

"Here," she raised her hand, but didn't touch it; she simply pointed to Klein's cheek from a distance, "it's stained."

Klein blinked, still not quite understanding.

The next second, Ophelia reached out her hand.

Her movements were natural, as if she had done them hundreds of times, without any hesitation.

Her fingertips gently brushed across his cheek, taking away a small piece of chaff that hadn't been dried properly earlier.

The sensation was even clearer than when I took a grain of wheat from the palm of my hand before.

Her fingertips were a little cool, carrying the warmth of the evening breeze, but the moment they touched his skin, it was as if something was ignited.

Klein's mind went blank for a moment.

He even forgot to breathe.

By the time he realized what was happening, he had already taken a small step back, and an unnatural blush quickly rose on his face, spreading from his ears all the way down to his neck.

The warmth of her touch still lingered on his fingertips, like a brand, so hot that he almost wanted to cover his face.

"Thank you."

He even stumbled over his words, his voice carrying a clear hint of panic.

Ophelia looked at her fingers; a small piece of husk clung to her fingertip.

She blew on it gently, and the husks scattered into the night breeze and disappeared.

"Um."

She remained calm, her golden pupils devoid of any extraneous emotional fluctuations, as if her action just now was as simple as casually wiping away a bit of dust for him.

but……

Her hand, hanging by her side, unconsciously curled its fingertips slightly.

That sensation seems to still linger on my fingertips.

Warm and soft.

It carried a temperature that was... somewhat unsettling.

Klein felt his face getting even hotter.

He steeled himself, turned around, and strode quickly toward the manor, his pace more than twice as fast as usual.

Those magical topics that they originally wanted to continue exploring were all forgotten at this moment.

I can't remember a single word about the magic array engraved on the scarecrow, the mobile energy nodes, or the wind element circulation system.

His mind was filled with the sensation of that brief moment.

And... her golden eyes.

Ophelia followed behind him, her steps still steady.

Only occasionally would she lower her eyes and glance at her fingers.

Then, he quickly looked away.

The main building of the manor was brightly lit.

When Klein opened the door, the hall was full of people.

The maids huddled together in twos and threes, talking quietly. Martha was leaning against the fireplace with her arms crossed, while Raymond stood in the center of the hall, holding an account book.

Almost all eyes turned to them at the same time.

Especially Maserati.

Her gaze first fell on Klein's face—his face still slightly flushed—then drifted to Ophelia's face—her face as calm as ever—and finally swept back and forth between the two of them several times, the corners of her mouth beginning to involuntarily turn up.

Her eyes widened as if she had discovered some incredible secret.

Klein felt extremely uncomfortable under her gaze.

He subconsciously touched his face, wanting to check if the blush from before was still there.

"cough."

He cleared his throat, trying to regain some of his authority as the owner of the manor.

The maids immediately looked away and lowered their heads, but they couldn't hide the gossipy excitement on their faces. Several of the younger maids even covered their mouths, their shoulders shaking as they clearly suppressed laughter.

Martha didn't move.

She laughed even more broadly, nudged the maid next to her with her elbow, and whispered something.

The maid was trying to suppress her laughter, her face turning red, but her eyes kept glancing at Klein and Ophelia.

Klein felt the blush he had just suppressed rising again.

He took a deep breath, trying to appear calm.

Raymond remained as composed as ever.

He closed the ledger and nodded slightly: "Master, Madam, you're back."

He paused, then continued, "Now that the maids have returned, it's time to rearrange things."

His tone was calm, as if he were talking about something completely ordinary.

"With a new mistress in the manor, many things will have to change."