Don’t Be Holy! - Chapter 112

To salvage his sinking rationality, Rubel first put some distance between himself and her.

Only then did it belatedly occur to him—Eir, too, must not be in her right mind. Right, hadn’t she just been tortured?

She was already a timid person; the shock of such cruelty must still linger. That’s why she was acting this way.

Rubel rationalized it like that to protect his own feelings. And he vowed never to leave her alone like this again.

“Don’t be afraid. I won’t let you get hurt anymore. I promise.”

He spoke sincerely.

But Eir’s heart seemed to have already turned away. She roughly shook off his arm and snapped back.

“I already asked—why are you taking me with you?”

Rubel let out a short sigh.

From that sigh, Eir could tell he had held back words like, “Is there a problem with taking a witch?” or “Do you really think you’re in a position to ask that?”

After a brief silence, he managed to force out an answer that wasn’t either of those.

“……I just want you to come with me.”

Was that the truth, or was he just saying whatever came to mind? Want me to come with him? What does that even mean? She wanted to dissect his words, pick them apart until she understood his heart.

Eir chewed her lip before asking.

“Is it because you want to sleep with me?”

That was the only intention of his she could fathom.

But even as she said it, something inside her stung. Yet Rubel answered with utter indifference, as if it didn’t matter at all.

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

Eir gnawed at her lip again before giving up on the conversation entirely.

“I’m leaving.”

She turned away, veering off the path. Rubel, looking utterly bewildered, grabbed her as she headed straight for the cliff’s edge.

“Have you lost your mind? The path is the other way.”

“A friend said they’d help me, so I can go this way.”

“A friend?”

At his suspicious question, her heart reflexively shrank. But Eir, resigned to whatever would happen, shrugged.

“Yeah. I told you before—I asked that old lady’s friend for help. The owl, remember?”

“You’re saying you’ll accept a witch’s help now?”

“I’m a witch too!”

The words burst out in irritation, but the moment she said them, it felt like a lie. As if divine punishment had struck, a sharp pain seized her heart, making it contract violently.

Eir’s body lurched forward, and Rubel, alarmed, quickly steadied her.

“What’s wrong?”

Pressing his ear to her hunched back, he heard stifled, pained groans. She seemed too agonized to even reply.

Was it her injured leg? But the priest had healed her. Besides, he’d caught a glimpse of her clutching her chest as she doubled over.

Something else was hurting her—but he couldn’t guess what.

Rubel spoke carefully.

“Even if you’re a witch, your body isn’t any different. Divine power shouldn’t affect you. If it did, witch hunts would’ve been much easier.”

“It’s not that.”

Even now, he assumed it was because she was a witch. Was that all Eir was to him in his mind?

A witch. A witch. A witch.

She was sick of it.

Gasping for breath, Eir struggled against the suffocating pain in her chest. It wasn’t even a lie meant to deceive anyone—just his own misunderstanding voiced aloud. Yet the divine punishment for it was this excruciating.

God really has no sense of humor, she thought bitterly.

It was as if He was reminding her: No matter what misunderstandings arise, never forget what you truly are.

“Then what is it? You have to tell me so I can help. Are you seriously ill? Do you have some condition? Why do you keep—”

His insistent voice reached her through the haze of pain. Did he really think cornering someone in agony would make them answer?

The pain in her heart from the divine punishment was bad enough, but his grip on her shoulders was just as unbearable. Eir weakly flailed her arm, trying to shake him off, but he mistook it as her reaching for him and clasped her hand tightly—desperately.

Gradually, the pain subsided, fading like a receding tide. Eir exhaled in relief, her body finally relaxing.

Only then did she manage to push Rubel away.

“I’m fine now, so let go.”

“I can’t. Not when you might throw yourself off a cliff again.”

His stubborn voice held her in place, and as if that weren’t enough, he wrapped his arms around her from behind, pulling her into an embrace. Her body pressed tightly against his, nearly flattened, and soon a large hand—covering half her back—began gently patting her.

“We’ll get you examined as soon as we reach the capital. Fainting repeatedly, suffering like this—there must be something seriously wrong. Now that I think about it, Hecate’s obsession with you wasn’t just because she was a fool. Have you been sickly since childhood?”

She could let the casual insult in his concern slide.

But what infuriated her more was how he spoke as if her going to the capital was a given. Why was he already talking about what would happen after they arrived?

“Do you really think I can’t break free and jump off that cliff right now?”

His eyebrows shot up.

Pulling her away to arm’s length, he looked at her like she’d lost her mind.

“You’re the first person to boldly declare you’ll escape right in front of me. Do I seem that easy to you now? Just because I’ve bitten and sucked on you a little, worried over you like a fool—you think you can act this arrogantly?”

Was that a threat or a confession……?