Unlikely Guard.

Ramiro strode out of the study, Luzia still in his arms like a sack of potatoes. Her face burned red.

"Dad," she hissed, twisting in his hold like a fish out of water. "I can walk. I have legs—two very functional ones."

Ramiro raised an eyebrow, his smirk as infuriating as ever. "And yet, here you are, being carried. Isn't it wonderful to be doted on?"

"Doted on?" Luzia shot him a sharp glare, crossing her arms over her chest. "More like kidnapped. Put me down, or I'll—"

"You'll what?" Ramiro interrupted smoothly, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Glare at me harder? Throw all your sassy words at me?Maybe eat another cookie out of spite?" His chuckle was warm, teasing, and maddeningly unbothered.

Luzia's glare deepened. "You think you're funny, don't you?"

He grinned, his voice dripping with mock sincerity. "I don't think, Luzia. I know I'm funny."

She rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn't fall out. "Keep telling yourself that."

As they moved down the grand hallway, Luzia's eyes darted around. She was still replaying fragments of her vision, trying to connect the dots. ' Seriously, What did it all mean? '

Her thoughts were derailed when Ramiro came to an abrupt stop before a massive set of ornate doors.

"Here we are," he declared, his tone theatrical.

Luzia arched a skeptical eyebrow. "And 'here' is...?"

Ramiro threw the doors open with a flourish, revealing the sprawling expanse of the training grounds. Weapons of every shape and size glinted in the sunlight, and sparring dummies stood ominously in formation.

Her stomach dropped. "Why are we at the training grounds?" she asked warily, a bead of sweat forming on her temple. 'Please don't tell me he's going to make me train.'

Ramiro glanced at her, immediately spotting her pale, alarmed face. He laughed, shaking his head. "Relax, I'm not going to make you train... yet."

Her shoulders didn't relax as she stared at him with wide eyes. 'Yet?'

"I brought you here because, before we kick off our epic father-daughter day," he said, spreading his arm wide like a showman on stage, "I want you to choose your personal guard."

Luzia raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. 'Oh, I already know who I'm picking...' she thought smugly, picturing the outcome she had read in the novel.

Ramiro continued, clearly oblivious to her lack of enthusiasm. "I was thinking of having them fight each other. A grand battle royale! Whoever wins will earn the honor of being your personal guard."

Luzia froze, her eye twitching. 'Of course, he wants to turn this into an over-the-top spectacle. That's exactly what happened in the novel—cue dramatic bloodshed, and boom, Stefan becomes my personal guard.' She sighed internally. 'What is it with him and unnecessary theatrics?'

"No," she said quickly, her tone firm. "I don't have time for that, Dad."

Ramiro blinked, taken aback. "What do you mean, you don't have time? This is a momentous decision!"

Luzia crossed her arms, her expression deadpan. "I'll just pick someone at random. Done. Easy."

Ramiro gasped as if she had just insulted his honor. "Pick at random? You can't just—Luzia, this is supposed to be a meaningful moment! A warrior's trial! A glorious—"

"Or," she interrupted, "we skip the gladiator games and move on to the father-daughter bonding you promised me."

Ramiro's shoulders slumped dramatically, like a child denied dessert. "Fine," he muttered, mutinous. "But you're missing out on an epic showdown."

'No, I'm dodging a headache,' Luzia thought, her eyes already scanning the lineup of guards. She spotted Ivan at the far end and gave him a barely noticable nod. "Him," she said briskly.

Ramiro raised an eyebrow at her choice, then let out another sigh, this one heavy with disappointment. "Well, I suppose that's one way to decide."

'Yes, and it's the quickest way to get you off my case,' Luzia thought, fighting the urge to smirk.

"Why him?" Ramiro asked, his tone sharper now.

Luzia hesitated for a second, her mind scrambling for a plausible excuse. 'I can't exactly tell him it's because I'm suspicious of Ivan and want to keep an eye on him,' she thought, her gaze narrowing slightly. 'But I can't just pick him without a reason, either.'

"Well," she began, doing her best to sound casual, "he's handsome, he's got a good build… and, well, he's tall and he seems reliable." She finished with a shrug, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Ramiro's jaw dropped. "That's your reason?!"

Ramiro's exaggerated outburst echoed across the training ground, bringing everything to an abrupt halt. Guards, sparring partners, and swordsmen froze mid-swing, their eyes snapping toward the scene.

"Isn't that the Duke?" one guard muttered, glancing nervously at Ramiro.

"What's he doing here all of a sudden?"

"And who's the girl with him?" another whispered, leaning slightly for a better look.

"Oh, that's Lady Luzia, his daughter," a third guard chimed in knowingly. "I heard it from one of the maids."

As the realization spread, the training ground erupted into a flurry of movement. Swords were hastily sheathed, bows lowered, and every guard straightened, pounding their fists to their chests in unison.

"Your Grace! Lady Luzia!" they greeted in unison, voices reverent.

Ramiro gave a curt nod, his sharp gaze scanning over the guards. Luzia stood beside him, her expression calm but observant, taking in the sudden shift in energy.

Ramiro sighed, rubbing his temples briefly before waving his hand in dismissal. "That's enough. Return to your training," he said, his tone calm but firm.

The guards hesitated for a moment, as if waiting for further acknowledgment, but another sharp wave of Ramiro's hand sent them back into action. Swords clashed, shields thundered, and the training resumed, their movements sharper and more focused than before, as if determined to leave a good impression on the Duke and his daughter.

Luzia watched them for a moment, then turned back to Ramiro, a sly smile tugging at her lips. "You're really good at this whole 'commanding respect' thing. Very intimidating."

Ramiro raised an eyebrow, a faint twitch of amusement playing at the corners of his lips. "It's called being a Duke, Luzia."

She smirked, her tone teasing. "Seems like you're very proud of that title..."

'I'm sure they don't know you're such a crybaby,' she thought to herself, unable to suppress a quiet laugh.

Ramiro's gaze lingered on Ivan, his brows knitting together in subtle disapproval. 'I can't believe she chose him because she thinks he's good-looking…' he thought, glancing briefly at Luzia, who was now fiddling with the hem of her sleeve, looking far too pleased with herself. 'I was certain she'd pick Stefan. He's leagues better than Ivan with a sword... but I can't blame her—she wouldn't know that.'

He shook the thought away, but the worry refused to leave.

With a deep, resigned sigh, Ramiro straightened his posture and called out, "Sir Ivan!"

Ivan, who had just finished adjusting his gloves, froze mid-motion. His head snapped up, and he immediately strode forward. The other guards shot him envious glances but dared not say anything.

"Yes, Your Grace?" Ivan asked, bowing deeply before turning his attention to Luzia. "Lady Luzia," he greeted, his voice calm and courteous.

Luzia froze. Ivan's voice... it felt strangely familiar.

Ramiro studied him for a moment, his sharp gaze cutting through the air like a hawk sizing up its prey. "It seems my daughter has chosen you to be her personal guard," he said, his tone even but laced with reluctant approval. "Congratulations."

Ivan blinked, his mind momentarily blank. 'What? Me?' The surprise must have shown on his face, but he quickly masked it. 'This wasn't part of the plan.'

"I... am honored," he said, quickly recovering. His eyes flicked to Luzia, who offered a small, innocent smile, though the suspicion in her eyes was far from subtle.

'Yes, that voice...' Luzia thought. 'That's where I've heard it before! Ivan was the one in Ramiro's study during my vision, but that never happened in the novel.'

'Great. Now I've got to keep an eye on him and her,' Ramiro thought, sighing inwardly. "Your duties will begin immediately. See to it that she's protected at all times—and don't make me regret this decision," he added, his voice dropping an octave for emphasis.

Ivan's eyes flicked from Ramiro to Luzia again, her calm expression giving nothing away, and he couldn't help but wonder if she truly understood what she had just decided. 'Me? Her personal guard..? What a naive little girl.'

'I've been in tight situations before. This won't be much different.'

With a final, respectful bow, Ivan forced a smile. "Of course, Your Grace."

Meanwhile, Luzia resisted the urge to smirk outright. 'Well, at least now I can keep an eye on him without raising suspicion,' she thought, already plotting her next move.