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Chapter 117

  1. Home
  2. From the Tip of the Tongue of the Lowliest Maid
  3. Chapter 117
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This work contains scenes of sadistic coercion and hardcore depictions of BDSM. Reader discretion is advised.

“…Alright.”

“Anyway, safety comes first. You’ll probably have a headache dealing with official affairs for a while… Ah, haha, and the people of the territory should also commit fewer sins. I’ll make sure everyone knows. Until the seasonal festival ends, they must obey the law very strictly.”

At that amiable banter, Del Rose smiled as if there was nothing to be done.

The attendant, having seen the violet eyes narrow in the sunset and the mild, clean smile linger neatly on the corners of his lips, nodded.

“Well then, I’ll take my leave. Del Rose.”

“Thank you for your efforts.”

The attendant bowed deeply and disappeared beyond the study door.

Click. The door closed.

“……”

Left alone, Theogrim raised his hand.

His fingertips were trembling.

Then he placed the lifted hand over his heart. It was a strange sensation, as if something other than his heart were embedded in that place.

Thump. Thump. Theogrim’s cold heart beat heavily.

It was the first time he had experienced his heart pounding so violently.

It was even painful. Holding his chest tightly, he took a deep breath for a long moment.

“……”

Then, all at once, he stopped breathing.

What followed was laughter.

Theogrim laughed. He straightened his bent back and covered his face with the hand that had gripped his heart.

He laughed madly. The mixture of sorrow and joy and the fleetingly deferred pain brought forth a desolate hope, and his face twisted horribly from it.


“Hngh…!”

Arzeletta felt the familiar pain in her heart.

For a moment, she nearly dropped what she was holding. Steeling her mind, she gripped the tray tightly with both hands.

“What’s the matter?”

The priest walking ahead turned and asked coldly. Arzeletta flinched and shook her head.

His eyes were long like a snake’s, with small pupils. The sensation of those tiny pupils trailing over her felt exactly like snake skin—cold and slick, as if something chilling was crawling all over her body.

“Be careful.”

“…Yes.”

“This way.”

Arzeletta realized she was now in the heart of the citadel. The long carpet underfoot was luxurious. The stained glass windows decorating the corridor were large and splendid.

She was covered in a dark veil. Anyone not belonging to the temple had to cover their face with such a veil upon entering the citadel.

It was a rule known by all, but rarely followed. The reason was clear.

Ordinary territory citizens who were not part of the temple had virtually no reason to step foot in the heart of the lord’s citadel throughout their lives.

The veil was a deep, midnight blue. One could not see in from the outside. Those who had not yet shed the filth of the secular world had to hide themselves beneath a veil as dark as the night sky and pass through this place like shadows melting into the night.

Arzeletta’s long eyelashes fluttered beneath the veil.

Theogrim was calling to her. His sorrow was being transmitted directly to Arzeletta’s heart.

It was a pain that felt like she was being torn apart. Arzeletta didn’t want to know such things. She didn’t want to, yet she had come to know them anyway. They were things that had been determined the moment she offered her soul to Theogrim.

There was nothing that could be undone now.

She wanted to calm her pounding heart, but she couldn’t stop walking. She couldn’t afford to drop what was on the tray.

It was the most important thing of all.

Night had fallen over the corridor. The night in the lord’s castle was far brighter than that of the slaughterhouse. Numerous candles, light orbs, and wide windows lit up the corridor.

Arzeletta once again felt the snake-like gaze of the priest sweeping over her. Her body instinctively flinched.

“……”

Perhaps it was just her imagination, but the priest didn’t seem to find it strange that she was heading toward Ragnar’s room.

Why was that? It might be due to the lord’s notoriously unyielding reputation, or perhaps because she herself was far too insignificant. But, still…

Arzeletta couldn’t clearly explain what this strange feeling was.

“Carmen.”

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    Tags:
    Female Protagonist, Obsessive Love, Past Trauma, Possessiveness, R19, Revenge

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    From the Tip of the Tongue of the Lowliest Maid

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