It seems She has Become the First Love of the Impenetrable, Iron-Hearted Male Protagonist

“Excuse me?”

Nathan doubted his ears for a moment.

Ian Klein Martinez.

Even setting aside his status as a prince, Ian was someone whose presence was impossible to ignore. With flawless looks, impressive height, and a commanding physique…

‘He’s the kind of person who stands out no matter where he goes.’

“Isn’t having too much presence the issue? That’s why, even though you avoid public appearances, Her Majesty the Empress still sees you as a thorn in her side…”

Nathan stopped mid-sentence, realizing his slip. Fortunately, Ian’s expression didn’t change, so Nathan cautiously continued.

“What I meant to say is…”

“Enough, I understand.”

“But why are you asking all of a sudden? Did someone dare to suggest you lack presence or say something so absurd?”

“Not exactly.”

Ian lightly tapped the desk with his fingertips before rubbing his temples.

‘Simon is Simon, but why am I the rookie?’

The sudden thought lingered, refusing to leave. He knew Rosevelia had confused him with Simon—the one who had confessed to her—when she first requested a sparring session.

But Simon’s confession had been rejected, whereas Ian had been accepted. He was, after all, the one sparring with her.

‘Normally, you’d think sparring partners have more presence. Or am I wrong?’

“Don’t tell me—has the second prince upset you again?”

Ian chuckled softly, tilting his head slightly.

“Nathan, there’s no one as easy to deal with as Enoch.”

As the first prince, Ian was the son of a concubine, while the second prince, Enoch, was the son of the Empress.

Ian’s mother, Violet Blayton, had given birth to him before the Empress had her child. Because of this, Ian had faced hostility from the Empress’s faction since birth.

After Enoch was born and Violet passed away, Ian had led a life that was close to abandonment—a situation he had wholeheartedly welcomed. His reclusive lifestyle was entirely his choice.

‘If only people like Enoch—whose thoughts are so easy to read—were the norm…’

But Rosevelia was different. She was unpredictable.

She had joined the White Order of Knights out of admiration for Gabriel, yet Ian had felt a rare thrill when he crossed swords with her during the pre-festival event.

His request for a sparring session had been driven by the desire to experience that sensation again. Now, he was her sole sparring partner, meeting her regularly for practice. In that sense, his goal had been achieved.

And yet, he couldn’t understand why such trivial matters kept bothering him.

‘Strangely, it doesn’t bother me at all.’

When they first spoke at the pre-festival, he had thought she was cold and detached. But Rosevelia turned out to be far more expressive than he had imagined—at times even smiling like a child.

‘The plaza is unpredictable. Be extra cautious.’

She was bold, too.

Ian stifled a smile as he recalled how Rosevelia had saved him twice in the plaza. His lips curved upward of their own accord, prompting him to cover his mouth. Under his palm, his smile refused to be suppressed.

It was a foreign sensation, one that made Ian reflexively pull back his hand.

“So, who could possibly be so reckless as to…”

“Watch your words, Nathan,” Ian warned.

Nathan, startled by the cold tone, furrowed his brows in protest, as if to say he was being treated unfairly.

“But, Your Highness, I’m on your side here!”

“I never said anyone told me I lack presence. It’s just that I…”

Ian, who had been about to explain himself, suddenly closed his mouth.

‘Why am I even dwelling on this?’

A sigh escaped through his clenched teeth. As Ian raked a hand through his hair, confusion flickered in his eyes.

“Understood. I misspoke.”

Nathan prided himself on having the sharpest instincts in the empire.

Whoever it was that could rattle Ian so much had to be someone important. Most likely, Ian was worried about his presence—or lack thereof—around that person.

‘Is Commander Gabriel not paying enough attention to His Highness?’

“Fine, but don’t ever speak ill of that person again.”

“I don’t even know who you’re referring to, but I won’t speak ill of them again.”

Ian nodded, rummaging through his pocket. He pulled out a piece of candy he’d received from Rosevelia.

“What’s that?”

“…Something I have.”

It wasn’t like he was going to eat it, so why had he even taken it?

‘Go ahead and eat it, Simon.’

‘And the rookie doesn’t get any…’

The memory of that moment flared in his mind, and annoyance surged unexpectedly. Ian clenched and unclenched his fist, the candy rolling irritably against his palm.

He debated tossing it away on the spot.

But the very thought made his fingers curl protectively around it, as though throwing it away was an unacceptable option. His grip tightened instinctively.

Ian stood, stuffing the candy back into his pocket, and gave Nathan a small wave.

“Yes, yes. Sleep well then, Your Highness.”

The Next Day

“I’m really sorry about yesterday, Rose.”

“It’s fine. I understand—it couldn’t be helped.”

Sure, Daisy’s fate was important, but Ian’s mother had fallen down the stairs and been injured. Of course he had to go see her.

“Really?”

“Yes. Let’s drop the subject. The Marchioness is fine, and it’s all in the past now, anyway.”

“Huh? What’s in the past? Explain it to me, Rose.”

When Edwin first disappeared, I thought it was impossible to alter the original storyline. But when Daisy was in danger, Ian hadn’t shown up.

Though he eventually appeared at the plaza, I couldn’t help but wonder…

‘If I intervene and throw things off course, will the story still revert to its original path?’

“It’s nothing…”

Just then, a group of junior knights passed by, chattering loudly. Hearing the word “fight” in their conversation, I grabbed one of their arms.

“A fight? What fight?”

“Ah, senior! It’s just… there’s a fight happening in front of the training grounds.”

Before the junior knight could finish explaining, Edwin was already sprinting toward the training grounds.

“Thanks for letting me know.”

When I arrived, the scene in front of the training grounds was chaotic. Two rookie knights, their uniforms half undone and faces bruised, were glaring daggers at each other. A crowd of knights had gathered around them.

“Lucas, where’s the Commander?”

Lucas, looking uneasy, replied, “He’s at the palace today. The Vice-Commander doesn’t seem to be here either.”

Should I be relieved?

While I was processing this, Edwin pushed through the crowd toward the quarreling rookies. Judging by his tightly clenched jaw, he was thoroughly angry. Should I let him handle this?