"A town fair!"

Penelope’s eyes lit with delight the moment she realized where Vincent had brought her.

The fair was a chaotic sensory overload of vibrant merchant stalls, the sweet aroma of roasted nuts and dried pastries, and the loud, cheerful clamped of street performers.

It was loud.

Far louder than Vincent had anticipated.

As he surveyed the crowd, he found himself questioning whether this had truly been a wise choice.

He was not a man who enjoyed crowded places. But he had confirmed the fair would make for an enjoyable outing. Now that he was here, it felt like an assault on everyone one of his senses.

Turning to his wife, and noting her reaction, he supposed coming here still worked out, considering how excited she looked. More importantly, he wanted to bring Penelope here.

Back when she was using the swing, and she casually mentioned never having the opportunity to enjoy simple things growing up, the comment had lingered and stayed with him. He had been planning this little outing since then.

He knew all too well how isolated her childhood had been, and he was determined to give her those experiences.

Penelope’s isolation began only after her mother’s death, and that absence had left a wound that never truly healed, no matter how much time had passed. It was why he never truly minded whenever she spoke of her mother.

Whether she used the inheritance as a method or was wondering aloud about what might have been, he listened.

He... understood that kind of grief.

He understood what it was like to lose something irreplaceable and carry the ache of it for years afterwards. But despite understanding her pain, Vincent always found himself at a loss.

Comfort did not come naturally to him. He knew how to solve problems, how to remove obstacles, and how to protect those under his care. But grief was not an enemy he could draw his sword against, nor was it a burden he could simply take off someone’s shoulders.

So whenever she spoke of her mother, he listened.Because it was the only comfort he knew how to give.

Perhaps that was why he had never minded.

Ever since the day they truly met, Penelope had occupied a place in his life that no one else could reach. He could still remember the words she said to him on that very day.

Save my life by staying alive

Such a simple thing to say, right?

Yet no one had ever asked that of him before. No one had ever looked at him and decided that his continued existence mattered.

And so, somewhere along the way, Vincent had made a promise to himself.

He would remain devoted to her, until his death.

This silly woman had become his only reason to stay alive.

Meanwhile, Penelope, unaware of his thoughts, continued to stare in awe at her surroundings.

"I’ve always wanted to attend one of these," Penelope chirped as the two of them strode through the crowded dirt pathways. Her gaze darted from stall to stall, drinking in every detail with childlike fascination. "It is every bit as crowded as everyone said it would be!"

Vincent glanced around at the sea of people moving about. "That appears to be your favorite part."

"It is!"

She spun toward him, smiling brightly.

"There is so much to see!"

Vincent watched her excitement for a moment before looking back at the crowd.

He still disliked it.

The noise was excessive. The pathways were cramped, and several people had nearly walked into him. Yet somehow, with Penelope beside him, the experience felt considerably more tolerable.

His main issue was the security here.

If a riot were to break out, the exits would become a death trap. Half the pathways were obstructed by merchant carts and fruit stalls, creating bottlenecks that would make evacuation nearly impossible.

"Oh, look over there!"

Penelope suddenly hurried forward to one of the stalls. Before Vincent could react, she was already gone.

"Penny–"

His heart leaped in his throat as he immediately went after her.

He caught up to her in seconds, but his tense expression melted the moment he saw her face. Her eyes were literally shining as she admired the rows of candied apples resting on the wooden counter of the stall.

They certainly looked appealing.

Each plump, perfectly round apple was completely enveloped in a thick, glass-like shell of deep crimson sugar candy that caught the sunlight beautifully.

More importantly, Penelope seemed completely enchanted. Her eyes continued to shimmer as she licked her lips.

"How much for one?" she asked the stall vendor, her voice bursting with excitement as she bounced slightly on her heels.

The vendor, a robed elderly man, smiled warmly at her enthusiasm. "Just three copper coins, my Lady."

Penelope immediately turned back to Vincent, her face completely flushed with delight and her eyes sparkling.

"Do you hear that? Can we get two?" She held up two fingers hopefully. "One for me and one for you to try!"

Vincent looked down at the rows of sticky, ruby-red spheres. To him, they looked like a sticky disaster waiting to happen.

He didn’t see anything particularly special about a perfectly good fruit encased in an unnecessary thick layer of hardened sugar syrup. It seemed like an absolute nightmare to eat gracefully, especially in public.

But then his eyes shifted back to Penelope, and his objections ceased to matter. Her face was lit up, her smile so brilliant it rivaled the afternoon sun, and she was looking at him with an expectant, hopeful gaze that entirely disarmed him. She looked completely adorable.

Vincent felt that strange, intoxicating warmth flare up in his chest again. Without a single word, he reached into the leather pouch at his belt. Ignoring the copper coins entirely, he pulled out a heavy, gleaming gold piece and placed it firmly on the wooden counter.

The old merchant’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.

"M-My Lord! I cannot possibly change a gold piece for two apples!"

"Keep the change," Vincent commanded smoothly, his voice leaving no room for argument. He then pointed a gloved finger at the display. "And give us the entire tray. Pack them carefully."

Penelope’s jaw dropped, her giddy expression turning into one of sheer bewilderment. "W-wait! The entire tray? There are at least twenty apples here! What are we going to do with all of them?"

Vincent simply squared his broad shoulders, looking entirely pleased with himself despite his stiff demeanor. "You said you fancied them. Therefore, you shall have them. If we cannot finish them, Elias and the others can eat the rest."

Penelope opened her mouth, then closed it. Then opened it again.

Unfortunately, she could not find a single argument capable of penetrating whatever strange reasoning had led Vincent to purchase an entire basket.

Well, good news for Elias and the others.

Meanwhile, the vendor had already launched into action. Terrified that the exceedingly wealthy noble might reconsider his generosity, the old man moved with astonishing speed. One by one, he wrapped the glossy crimson apples in crisp parchment before arranging them carefully inside a large woven basket.

The vendor presented the basket with both hands and bowed so deeply that his back nearly folded in half.

"Thank you for your patronage, my lord."

Vincent accepted the basket with a dignified nod, holding it like it weighed nothing. He turned to Penelope who looked at the basket, then at him.

"...."

"....."

"Vincent."

"Yes?" 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

"I wanted two."

"You have twenty."

"That is the problem."

"I fail to see how."

Before Penelope could continue her protest, Vincent reached into the basket to present a single, perfectly wrapped candied apple to her, and the argument died instantly.

Penelope eagerly accepted the wooden stick with undisguised enthusiasm. She didn’t care that they were standing in the middle of a bustling town square, nor did she spare a thought about maintaining the rigid, pristine etiquette expected of a high-ranking lady.

At that moment, she simply wanted her candied apple.

With a giddy smile, she lifted the treat to her lips and took a bite.

Crunch.

The thick, glass-like crimson shell shattered beautifully under her teeth, filling her mouth with the rich, deeply sweet taste of caramelized sugar. Right on its heels came the sharp, bursting explosion of tart, refreshing apple juice, balancing out the sweetness perfectly. It was absolutely delicious, a flawless contrast of textures and flavors.

"Oh, wow."

Penelope muffled around the treat, her cheeks puffing out slightly like a happy chipmunk. She closed her eyes in sheer bliss, letting out a soft, contented hum as she chewed.

Vincent stood right beside her, acting as her impenetrable shield against the moving crowd so no one would dare bump into her while she ate. As he looked down at her blissfully happy face, her lips lightly stained with the glossy red syrup, the corner of his mouth twitched upward into a microscopic, barely visible smile.

Swallowing her bite, Penelope looked up at Vincent, her eyes flashing with a sudden streak of playful mischief.

"You really must try it, Vince," she insisted, lifting her wooden stick and holding the glossy, half-eaten candied apple right up to his lips. "Just one bite. I promise it won’t kill you."

Vincent’s entire body went rigid. He looked down at the bright red, sticky sphere hovering inches from his face, and then at Penelope’s wide, expectant gaze.

They were standing in the middle of a public fair, surrounded by commoners, and his wife was trying to street-feed him like a child.

Even while participating in something so inherently messy, he maintained his flawless, aristocratic elegance. He didn’t turn his head or clumsily grab at the stick; instead, he simply tilted his chin downward, parted his lips, and took a small, perfectly clean, and precise bite from the edge where the sugar had fractured.

Crunch.

He chewed slowly, his expression entirely unreadable, as if he were analyzing an intricate military map rather than tasting caramelized sugar. The intense sweetness hit his palate first, followed quickly by the sharp, crisp burst of the tart apple juice.

"Well?" Penelope asked eagerly, watching his face for any sign of a breakthrough. "What do you think?"

"It is... acceptable," he murmured, his sharp gray eyes softening just a fraction as he looked down at her.

"Acceptable ?"

"The sweetness is entirely redundant," he replied. "The fruit was already sufficient on its own."

Penelope clicked her tongue.

Of course that would be his conclusion.

Leave it to Vincent to review a candied apple.

Personally, she thought the combination was perfect.

"By the way," she stepped closer to Vincent. "How come nobody recognizes you?"

Vincent raised an eyebrow, puzzled by the question.

"What do you mean?"

"Don’t misunderstand." Penelope whispered, gesturing vaguely toward the bustling crowd around them. "I’m simply surprised. You’re one of the most powerful men in the empire, yet no one seems to realize who you are."

Vincent glanced around at the fairgoers. "Most people in Vandalia have never seen their Marquis in person, Penny."

"Really?"

"Really."

He looked almost amused by her surprise.

"To them, I am merely another nobleman visiting the fair."

Penelope stared up at him.

That explanation would have been far more convincing if he weren’t nearly a head taller than everyone else, dressed in an outrageously expensive coat.

"Vincent."

"Yes?"

"You are possibly the least ordinary-looking nobleman I have ever met."