Chapter 139
Behind the shaggy bangs, gray eyes blinked. Eyes that brought to mind a stubborn ox, and thus, whenever he met them, invariably recalled the animals they butchered daily.
Yoseph’s hand, which had frozen, moved again.
“Ah…”
The rough fingertips of the butcher touched Arzeletta’s plump chest. His hand, blunt and with blood-stained, blackened nails, was battered.
Touching Arzeletta’s bead-like, clean skin, the roughness of his hand was even more pronounced.
Yoseph tilted his head and traced the fever-like rash left on Arzeletta’s body. Arzeletta, without a word, allowed him to touch her.
There was no sinister intent in Yoseph’s touch. It was a touch as if feeling a deep wound. Yoseph merely opened and closed his mouth, as if his throat were choked. He seemed like someone who didn’t know what to say or how to say it.
“Arzeletta.”
After a rather long silence, what Yoseph finally managed to utter was her name. Arzeletta looked at Yoseph with sad eyes.
“…What are you doing this for, Arzeletta?”
“……”
Large tears welled in Yoseph’s eyes. Like all the elements that made him, even his tears were blunt. Yoseph rubbed his eyes with his sleeve. Even that was as honest as a child.
Arzeletta raised her hand and wiped Yoseph’s wet eyes.
“Arzeletta, perhaps… the Lord, he, he did something to you.”
Yoseph’s lips trembled violently, as if gathering immense courage.
“If you didn’t want it, and by force…”
“No, no, Yoseph.”
Arzeletta shook her head.
“The Lord is a kind person. He is gentle…”
“Arzeletta.”
Yoseph, having wiped his tears, grasped both her hands. Kind and gentle? That was absurd.
Yoseph was convinced he knew Ragnar well. It was the result of a lifetime spent clinging to Ragnar’s castle like mold.
That man was a politician to his very bones. Ragnar, who had dedicated himself to the single belief of Impellias’s God, rejected and hereticized everything outside of the good he himself chose.
The result of that was his and Arzeletta’s lives. The violence and contempt they had to endure with every breath.
Such a man, an autocratic individual who regarded everything outside his beliefs as unholy, would never genuinely treat the slaughterhouse maid, of all people.
“Don’t get carried away, Arzeletta.”
“……”
“They don’t think of us as humans. You know that better than anyone.”
Yoseph spoke as if spitting blood. And his words were not wrong.
After Ragnar rebuilt the domain, most of the people who flocked to this closed land were those who had fled the tyranny of other lords. They still vividly remembered and bore witness to what they had experienced in their former lands.
The lords collected taxes for all sorts of reasons. They beat and killed residents according to their moods. And yet, they received no punishment. Maidens had their chastity sacrificed to vile lords and were pointed at without fault.
“But Lord Ragnar—”
“I know, I know, Arzeletta. He’s a little different from the other lords. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t a noble.”
“……”
“What if, what if you… what if you have his child, ah, Arzeletta.”
As he said those words, Yoseph stammered severely. Just speaking seemed to tear at his insides with anguish.
“…He might try to kil-kill you.”
“……”
“Because it would be revealed that he broke the vow he made to God.”
Arzeletta’s gaze deepened.
“I cannot allow you to commit such a sin.”
That night, Ragnar’s pitiful gaze upon her, and Yoseph’s desperate gaze clinging to her at this moment, overlapped.
“If a rumor spread that he impregnated a slaughterhouse maid, he’d think he’d lose the honor he’s built up his whole life.”
Yoseph, who couldn’t have known Arzeletta’s thoughts, drew closer, clinging to the shadow that fell over her eyes.
“So, Arzeletta. Don’t go to the Lord anymore. Please. If something like that were to happen to you, I, I…”
“I can’t.”
Arzeletta shook her head with sad eyes. At the sight of her genuinely pained expression, Yoseph’s face contorted as if melting.
“You said you came here to meet the Lord, Arzeletta.”
“……”
“Do you love the Lord, Ragnar?”
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