From the Tip of the Tongue of the Lowliest Maid - Chapter 105

This work contains scenes of sadistic coercion and hardcore depictions of BDSM. Reader discretion is advised.

Because of it, their marriage kept being delayed, and the beautiful lovers had to long for each other so pitifully like this.

“I’ll help with anything you need,” Ianes said cheerfully, intentionally putting on a bright tone. For the sake of the beautiful Del Rose, it felt as if there was nothing he wouldn’t do.

Theogrim gave his lieutenant a mild, polite smile.

However, as soon as Ianes looked away, Theogrim’s expression slowly disappeared from his face once again.

If anyone had seen the change, they might have been seized by a chilling fear. It was as if paint brushed onto white marble had been washed away by water—so complete and silent was the vanishing.

Theogrim replayed the scene he had just witnessed, tearing apart every detail of that revolting moment he still couldn’t believe he had seen. He reviewed it piece by piece as if engraving it into his brain.

Exion.

Damn it. Exion.

That cursed, filthy red-haired bastard. A brainless brute with nothing to offer but a body made of muscle.

That smug look on his face…

Theogrim lowered his gaze. His violet eyes turned cold, freezing.

It was a different kind of chill than what came from Ragnar—the kind that could make the castle’s residents tremble with just a glance.

If Ragnar’s coldness was strict and absolute, then Theogrim’s was inhuman, devoid of anything remotely resembling empathy.

In those jewel-like pupils of his, no emotion could be found. There was nothing that could even be mistaken for something human.

Those filthy hands had touched Arzeletta’s body.

Those dirty, red eyes had raked over her figure.

And eventually, his disgusting mouth had mixed its saliva with hers, kissing her lips.

Arzeletta.

To my Arzeletta.

From the crown of her head to the soles of her feet, from her every breath to her soul and life—Arzeletta, who belongs wholly to me!

Theogrim tilted his head slightly. The scar near the corner of his eye throbbed again, suddenly and sharply.

The way the two of them had flushed and heated up as they kissed was pathetic to look at.

They had stared at each other, gasping for breath, looking completely lost, dragging out the moment as if they couldn’t bear to part. The whole thing was overly theatrical, as if they were consumed by the fever of first love.

So the brute’s made up his mind.

Theogrim cooled his thoughts. He couldn’t afford to become a fool, boiling over with emotion like Exion.

He concealed his heart, burning with hatred, beneath a shell of composure and grace.

Within that saint-like façade, a hellish murderous intent was seething.

Even if Exion was often called a brute, he wasn’t the type of scoundrel to grope someone in the early hours of the morning out of nothing more than animal desire.

No—he had made up his mind. Some trigger had clearly awakened a sincerity in him that he had long tried to flee from.

Theogrim had expected that if he prodded a little, the fool would panic and just keep running away. But apparently, he wasn’t as much of a coward as Theogrim had assumed.

Theogrim took his time and thought carefully.

Lately, for some reason, it felt as though everyone had begun to grow slightly lax about the scar on Arzeletta’s back.

Not long ago, there had even been talk of marrying her off to that hunchback.

That meant, at some point, the lowborns’ lust for Arzeletta had started to outweigh their fear of her back.

Arzeletta, who had nothing to her name, no one to rely on, and was of lowly birth, had only managed to protect herself amidst pigs who looked at her like they were ready to devour her whole, for one reason.

A deeply ingrained belief—that sleeping with that woman would transmit a rotting disease.

And the one who had created that rumor and spread the belief like poison from the very beginning was no one else but—

Theogrim.

So that no one would even dare to lay a finger on Arzeletta.