From the Tip of the Tongue of the Lowliest Maid - Chapter 142

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

To think he was feeling buoyant just because it was spring. He could swear before the gods—never once in his life had he succumbed to such a foolish feeling.

Even while everyone became giddy in anticipation of the seasonal festival, Ragnar had always viewed spring with disdain—the season that made the hearts of fools flutter.

Though spring was the touch of the great god upon the earth, it was also the season that made the human heart weak.

Thus, after each festival, he would declare a strict fast, as if to restore discipline that had gone slack.

Ragnar looked down at the moonflower in his hand.

There was someone who came to mind whenever he saw such a noble flower.

…Truthfully, the flower might have just been an excuse. These days, at every moment, he found himself thinking of a single person.

Someone who exalted him more than any god, who stirred him more than the scent of crimson lilies.

A lowly maid who lived at the very bottom of his territory.

“…She’d probably like this.”

“Pardon?”

The knight, puzzled for a moment by Ragnar’s murmured words, then smiled.

“Ah, you mean Arina. Of course. She’ll be so thrilled she won’t be able to sleep for a week.”

Ragnar gave a silent nod in response.

If he showed this flower to Arzeletta, she would surely be delighted.

If she were to stand there holding this flower, it would look just like a scene from a holy painting. In the sacred paintings depicting the angels of Impellias, those angels would hold great armfuls of these rare flowers and scatter them down to the earth.

The moment Ragnar imagined that scene, he found himself holding his breath without even realizing it.

Ragnar wanted to see Arzeletta.

Even tonight, that devout maid would come to him, bearing the offering she had prepared with her own hands. Covered from head to toe in a veil like a sinner, she would look up at him tearfully, not knowing what to do, overwhelmed by guilt.

But at this moment, Ragnar clearly knew what he wanted. He wanted to see her face under the sunlight.

Not in the darkness of night. Not the maid who came to him like a sinner, holding her breath.

Here and now, under the spring sunshine, he wanted to face Arzeletta with her face fully revealed. He wanted to see, in detail, the look of surprise and joy on her face as she held the flower he handed her.

Just as he had once obsessively and madly examined every inch of the maid’s body on his bed—while she muffled her sobs—he now wanted, under the sunlight, to take in the expression in Arzeletta’s eyes.

He wanted to know if, even in the brightness, she would look up at him with tears in her eyes, her hands clasped in prayer, her ears turning red from his touch.

He wanted to place this noble crown of spring flowers on Arzeletta’s head.

“…My lord?”

Snapping out of his thoughts, Ragnar shook his head. It was clearly an overstep. Becoming the goddess of the seasonal festival was an honor the young women of the territory would treasure for life. For the lord himself to imagine—even for a moment—where the crown should be placed was, no matter how one looked at it, improper.

After brushing off the thought, Ragnar turned to the knight standing before him. The knight was staring at him, looking a little dazed.

“What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?” Ragnar asked.

“…Ah, it’s nothing. It’s just…” The knight hesitated, as if searching for the right words, then finally spoke. “Lately, there are times when… you feel a bit unfamiliar, my lord.”

Ragnar’s brow furrowed.

The knight took a deep breath and continued. “It was nice to see you smile earlier.”

Ragnar’s violet eyes flashed with a sharp gleam. Oblivious, the knight rubbed his broad forehead and said, “It seems like something good has happened… Though maybe it’s just my imagination, that’s how it felt.”

He paused for a moment before adding, “In all the time I’ve served you, I think this is the first time I’ve seen you smile, my lord.”

The knight looked out the window, as if remembering something.

“Now that the territory has stabilized, and the warehouses are filled with enough food to last until summer, there isn’t much left for the people to worry about. It’s all thanks to the great Impellias, to you, and to Del Rose.”

He smiled faintly.

“I think it’s alright for you to smile sometimes.”