From the Tip of the Tongue of the Lowliest Maid - Chapter 107

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

The cry of a night owl echoed faintly in the distance.

It was late at night, and Arzeletta was sitting on a wooden bench outside the slaughterhouse. The season was at the cusp of spring, and the night wind still carried a chill. She gave a slight shiver, then rested her chin in one hand and looked up.

From within the narrow boundary walls, only the tallest things were visible—the sky, the castle spires, and the peak of the temple.

Her pale green eyes held the night sky within them. Stars were scattered densely, like thousands of holes punctured into a black abyss. It was less beautiful than it was eerily mesmerizing.

As she silently stared at the sky, a thought crossed her mind. The road to Lukwell would be long, but perhaps the night sky there would look the same.

That idea made her raise her hand without realizing it. Her fingertips brushed gently over her lips.

The heat that had begun earlier at dawn still lingered there, as if she’d been burned.

I still feel it somehow, she thought.

She flushed slightly. Thank goodness it was dark. The mere touch of the breeze made her worry that her feelings might be exposed. She traced her lips slowly, the ones that had felt seared.

Exion’s heartbeat still seemed to echo in her ears.

“I’ll bring you the promised gift, so wait for me. There’s something I really have to tell you.”

Her long lashes lowered gently. To be honest, she’d been thinking of nothing but Exion all day. Not that she’d wanted to.

If Exion ever found out, he would probably laugh out loud. For some reason, she felt sure of that.

But how… how could I not think about him?

There was no way to stop the thoughts that kept rising up. Being held in his arms, feeling that powerful heartbeat—
It had been overwhelming in more ways than one.

The flutter that remained in her heart, just like the mark on her lips, was still there. She didn’t even know if it was her own heartbeat or his.

Closing her eyes quietly, she let the sensation linger.

“There’s something I really have to say, so… don’t go anywhere. Just wait for me. Please. Promise me. You have to. Okay?”

“That’s unfair,” she whispered with a sigh. Ending things like that felt like cheating.

She had no resistance to promises about the future. Hopes that something good might happen always ended up making her a little more miserable.

And yet…

“Really… that’s unfair.”

Arzeletta knew full well that the one truly being unfair wasn’t Exion.

It was herself.

Even though she couldn’t give anything back, she kept dwelling on the excitement left behind by his words. It made her feel like… truly, such a bad woman.

But because everything was a first for her, even though she knew she was being selfish, there was nothing she could do about the tremble in her heart.

Being greeted with a kind expression.

Being promised something beautiful.

The feeling that something wonderful might happen, conveyed through his entire being—

Those were experiences she had never once had in her life.

Arzeletta buried her face in her knees.

It was embarrassing. She felt like a child who had tasted something sweet for the first time.

It was the day she came to know emotions she had never known, sensations unfamiliar and new. Still resting her head on her knees, Arzeletta slowly turned her face to the side.

The expectation that there might be something better.

That perhaps a wonderful flower she’d never imagined might bloom.

That maybe, someone might come to love her.

Arzeletta shut her eyes painfully. Now that she had come to know such feelings, it seemed as though life from now on would only be more unbearable.

But even so, she didn’t want to let go.

She didn’t want to return to a time before she knew this kind of trembling.

Like a fragment of shining glass, the excitement clicked within her heart. The sharper it was, the more brilliantly it sparkled. It felt like it would roll around freely and leave her covered in wounds.

“Wait for me.”

Could she wait?

With a heart that only hoped for the thrill, this sly feeling that only longed for unfamiliar excitement—could she wait like that?

…When she already had nothing she could give in return.

“Ugh…”

Arzeletta pressed a hand to her heart. At the thought of Theogrim, the familiar pain returned. As if she were being punished for thinking of another man, even for a moment, her heart clenched in anguish.

Until the day she died, her heart, this soul, belonged to Theogrim.

And so did this life.