From the Tip of the Tongue of the Lowliest Maid - Chapter 26

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

“This is it.”

At Exion’s voice, Arzeletta forced out the last of her strength to move her steps forward.

The endlessly winding spiral staircase, the path they had followed by feeling through pitch-black darkness with their fingertips—just when she thought she couldn’t go any farther, Exion found and opened a small door.

As she poked her head out of the secret stairway filled with the stench of mold, moisture, moss, insects, and darkness, the air changed in an instant.

A pure and clean fragrance. Scents of luxurious incense and smoke that could not easily be described filled the air.

What lay beyond the door was a narrow corridor.

“Shh.”
Exion lowered his voice toward Arzeletta. Arzeletta covered her mouth and nodded.

They began to pass through the narrow, cool stone corridor. This hallway too, like that secret stairway, didn’t seem to have been built for any ordinary purpose.

Through windows that had been set here and there, the night breeze and moonlight seeped in. Arzeletta followed behind Exion, feeling as if she had stepped into a strange maze.

There must be many such secret passages within the castle.
Even if he had been shunned, Exion was still the lord’s godson.
Arzeletta guessed that only the lord and a handful of nobles could move through such intricate and secret paths as if they were their own home.

“We’re here.”

Unlike Arzeletta, who was gasping for breath from exhaustion, Exion remained utterly composed. Arzeletta wiped the sweat from her forehead.

There was a window open in the narrow wall. Though it was called a window, it had neither glass nor a frame—just a hole meant to let one look down or allow air to pass through.

“It’s a window made solely to look down.”

At Exion’s words, Arzeletta turned to him with a puzzled expression.

“It’s a secret viewing window built to monitor the room inside. From within, you can’t see this window. Not from any angle.”

“……”

“Come here.”

Arzeletta obediently moved as Exion instructed.

Soon, she knelt on the cold floor and crouched. Arzeletta’s eyes widened as she looked down through the window.

“This is the very heart of Rosenburg Castle.”

Exion’s hushed voice reached Arzeletta’s ears.

The space visible below the wall was deep and black. Because sharp fragments of colored light spilled through the stained glass, it appeared all the more tragic.

Even to Arzeletta, who knew nothing, it was clearly no ordinary room. It looked like a small chapel or prayer room, built for a special purpose. A place for devotion. For offering something…

“An altar…?”

As soon as she uttered the word, Arzeletta flinched and covered her mouth.

Countless candles and curling incense. The preparations for a ritual were evident, but there was no sign of any offering.

As the thought reached even the word ‘altar,’ Arzeletta felt a sense of dread.

A place so deep and hidden within the castle that one could only reach it through secret stairs. What offering were they planning to make in that secretive place?

“Sir Theogrim…”

Suddenly frightened, Arzeletta asked in a small voice, and Exion furrowed his brows sharply.

“He’ll be here soon.”

But he didn’t get angry and answered briefly.

“…I brought you here to show you that bastard.”

Even a trace of a fierce smile was laced in those words, causing Arzeletta to shrink back.

“He’s here. There.”

Exion pointed somewhere with his chin. Arzeletta followed his gaze and looked out through the window.

At once, Arzeletta’s green eyes widened.

Walking toward the altar, bathed in a holy light, was Theogrim.

Her master, the sole owner of her heart, the only man who shared her scar.

“Theo—”

“Shh.”

At Exion’s interruption, Arzeletta quickly covered her mouth with both hands.

Even in this suspicious place, Theogrim was beautiful. His silver hair and pale skin—anyone who didn’t know him would surely mistake him for an angel.

Just as Arzeletta had, at first.

His violet eyes were subdued. Like the deep ripple of ink diluted in the coldest, clearest water.

Everything in this secret sanctuary was black, and only Theogrim was white.

A priest removed the white cloak from Theogrim, who stood at the altar.

“……!”

In that instant, Arzeletta clawed the stone floor with her nails. It was an instinctive action to grab onto something—anything.

Blood seeped from beneath her nails where they had scraped the rough floor. Without even feeling the pain, Arzeletta looked down at Theogrim, his body now clearly revealed in the distance.

Theogrim’s body, elegant and perfectly balanced like a marble statue, was covered in terrible wounds.