From the Tip of the Tongue of the Lowliest Maid - Chapter 31

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

He laid Arzeletta down on the straw bed.

Under the moonlight, Arzeletta, with her eyes closed, looked peaceful.

“……”

Exion pulled over the only piece of furniture in the empty house, a hard wooden chair, and sat down, carefully looking down at Arzeletta’s face.

Her long, delicate eyelashes cast long shadows in the moonlight. Exion briefly wondered why Arzeletta’s sleeping face looked so strangely peaceful, then his expression tightened.

Because her frightened eyes were closed. Those jewel-like, transparent green eyes held no trace of anxiety or fear.

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

“…What nonsense is that.”

Exion scratched his head fiercely.

“Why do you only remember that guy, Arzeletta?”

Leaning his arm on the backrest, he spoke to the sleeping Arzeletta.

“…I’m here too.”

Arzeletta gave no answer. Exion looked at the peaceful Arzeletta and for a moment, just a moment, he imagined something.

Arzeletta living a different life from now.

An Arzeletta who was not hated by people.

An Arzeletta who ate enough, slept enough, and gained weight every day.

An Arzeletta who read books, cultivated refinement, browsed new tea houses, and dressed up like any other young lady.

…An Arzeletta without scars on her back.

Exion’s fierce eyes softened gently.

If that had truly been the case, Arzeletta would have been loved by everyone. The love would have been as immense as the contempt she now bore.

And countless men would have been desperate to court her.

All the men in the region. Men outside the territory who had heard rumors about her. Regardless of rank, whether high or low, forgetting age or youth.

Everyone would have lined up in front of Arzeletta’s house.

Wearing their best clothes, carrying the most earnest gifts they could prepare. They would not have hesitated to offer the most wonderful poems, songs, and vows they knew at her feet.

And among them…

“……”

Without realizing it, Exion recalled something and was suddenly startled.

It was because the image of himself standing with a flower among those suitors naturally came to mind.

“…Damn!”

His face flushed red as Exion cursed out loud for no reason. Yet the imagination that once arose stubbornly continued.

Unlike the real Exion, the imagined Lord Exion was extraordinarily gentle. He slicked his bangs back in a slick way, adorned like a peacock, and with his flower in hand, he was comparing it with the flowers of competitors standing before and behind him with his eyes, worrying if he was not shabby.

Not only that, but the sight of him taking out a paper with his lines written on it from his chest and nervously trying to memorize them was simply… there was no other way to describe it but as foolish.

Exion shook his head fiercely, as if trying to erase the thought that had just come to mind forever.

With a long sigh, Exion covered Arzeletta up to the base of her neck with a worn blanket and turned away.

When he opened the old door, a creaking, unstable sound echoed through the silent night.

The fact that Arzeletta was alone inside that dilapidated door pulled on the back of Exion’s neck.

Brushing his rough hand through his bangs, Exion swiftly jumped onto his horse.

From that night, Arzeletta fell gravely ill.

She suffered from intense fever that rose and fell without pause.

‘Arzeletta.’

Through her blurred consciousness, Arzeletta heard someone calling her. She barely lifted her eyelids and gasped for breath.

‘Arzeletta. Pull yourself together.’

Her vision was blurry as if submerged underwater, and a buzzing sound echoed in her ears. Something red seemed to fill her sight, but even that was vague, like a scene from a dream.

‘Arzeletta, please.’

There was no one else who would call her name so desperately—unless it was a dream.

“Hut, ah…!”

Then intermittent pain came. It was like being stabbed deeply with a blade heated by fire in her heart.

“It hurts…”

Arzeletta whimpered. She was scared and afraid. Even though it was her own body, she could not understand what was happening or in what direction she was changing.

Something cold and hard touched her tongue. Her throat was parched, but she could swallow nothing. Arzeletta pushed the metal invading her mouth away with her tongue.

The same thing happened several times. Having fended off the intrusion, Arzeletta gasped for breath with her fevered body.

It hurts. Someone please…

“……!”