From the Tip of the Tongue of the Lowliest Maid - Chapter 30

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

As she was not yet an adult fairy, she did not know much about the story. The tales of fairies were not recorded in writing, and since birth by the lake, she had been alone.

So Arzeletta did not know what it meant to choose the owner of a prayer, or what it meant to dedicate one’s whole life to only one being.

“…Will you pray for me?”

“……”

“Then you will take me to your world. I…”

“……”

“I will have power.”

A beautiful angel whispered in Arzeletta’s ear. As if confessing the most important secret above all else.

“Power and authority strong enough not to be miserable for anything anymore.”

Listening to the boy’s whisper, Arzeletta thought.

Isn’t this much better than being hunted without any value, having her prayer stolen by someone, and dying as livestock?

If she could choose… she wanted to follow this angel’s beautiful world.

A world crystal-clear and noble, the world this boy longs for, she wanted to offer herself as a gift for it.

.
.
.

Memories surfaced like a dream.

The first moment with Theogrim she had never forgotten even for a second over the past ten years.

The girl prayed for the boy, and the boy saved the girl.

They saved each other without even knowing the meaning of salvation.

…Without even guessing what fate that salvation would bring back to each of them.

“Theo.”

Tonight, in this secret corridor, Arzeletta faced Theogrim’s pain.

“One prayer, only for you.”

Arzeletta deeply felt that he truly was the owner of her prayer. Theogrim’s pain, the cry of his heart, was absorbed directly into Arzeletta’s body.

Theogrim was wishing to be free from this pain.

Arzeletta watched his consciousness until the end.

The moment Theogrim, who had not uttered a single groan, finally collapsed; the priests pouring holy water of recovery over his body broken by extreme pain.

And in front of that, a rock-like silhouette standing without the slightest wavering.

The man’s back, who had shown no hesitation while inflicting devilish violence on the pain of the successor.

The sacred white hair like Theogrim’s, but violet eyes colder and more calculating than any ice, the long whip wielded against Theogrim as if striking her own heart.

“…Hey.”

Exion looked at Arzeletta whispering something dreamlike.

“…I will live for you, breathe for you, and live for the joy of meeting death for you.”

Arzeletta’s wet eyelashes lowered softly. Her memory was now directed toward the past.

At this moment, what Exion was hearing was the prayer engraved in her soul.

And the place where Arzeletta’s gaze, whose soul had shattered along with Theogrim’s pain, landed was only one.

Ragnar von Rosenburg, lord of this land, God’s representative, the most sacred and greatest man on earth.

The master of all that belongs to this territory. Arzeletta’s master, and.

The man who painfully treated Theogrim, who took away her prayer and possessed the love she exchanged for her life, as if it were death.

After Theogrim completely lost consciousness, Arzeletta’s consciousness also cut off at the same time. It was a sudden blackout as if the lights had gone out.

Exion’s voice calling her came from afar.

At that moment, Arzeletta did not know that something inside her had changed forever.

The warhorse snorted low again. Exion, who jumped off the huge horse’s back, carefully lifted Arzeletta down.

Arzeletta was still unconscious.

The place they arrived at was Arzeletta’s home.

Exion opened the old wooden door. It was a shabby door with no security whatsoever.

Entering inside, Exion soon furrowed his brows fiercely.

It was more like a desolate warehouse than a house.

The small, worn house was a shabby space with nothing except a bed filled with straw and a single chair.

Aside from diligently maintaining cleanliness, it was closer to a stable than a home. As if it had to endure both cold and heat without protection, it was ascetic and miserable enough to be praised by Impellias’s law.

None of the high priests who stood behind the name of that god actually lived in a house like this.

If there really were a god, Exion thought that life should be more merciful to a woman like her, who had nothing and bore pain with her whole body while fulfilling the law.