From the Tip of the Tongue of the Lowliest Maid - Chapter 53

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

Chirp, chirp. The birds sang clearly. It was not the time to sleep.

Theogrim wiped away cold sweat and looked at the thick, beautiful books and letters laid out before him. His daily studies and official duties—glorious and yet weighty tasks—were laid before him.

“Del Rose, are you feeling unwell?”

As Theogrim caught his breath, Ianes, who had been watching him, asked. His eyes were innocent and clear. Eyes filled with love and trust for Del Rose, without a trace of doubt.

Theogrim calmed his roughly pounding heart with effort and gave a faint smile.

“I must have been a little tired. I dozed off.”

“You study like this every day, so of course you’re tired. You should rest from time to time. Theogrim-nim, you overwork yourself.”

The brown-haired young man grumbled, clearly seizing the moment.

His lord was in a state of extreme overwork. Ianes was certain. Having observed him from close by for years, he knew without a doubt that Del Rose never spent even a single minute of his allotted time for rest.

There was only one exception—the sole hobby Theogrim had taken up since entering Rosenburg Castle: gardening.

Ianes was quietly pleased to see the solitary Del Rose, who had no one to rely on, interacting with plants. He was glad that there was at least one place where Del Rose could lay down his heart.

But Ianes soon came to realize something. Even what he had believed to be Del Rose’s only hobby, gardening, was not just a simple pastime.

It was a preparation for famine that might strike at any time.

“Every day, prayers, fasting, official duties—and the ‘Rite’, which you never miss even once.”

The retainer’s words held nothing but loyalty. Theogrim’s smile remained unwavering.

However, as he met the retainer’s eyes, Theogrim’s violet gaze was subtly cold.

The contents of the ‘Rite’ were known only to the high-ranking priests who participated and to the one who performed it.

The people of the territory simply respected and relied on Del Rose, who absolved their sins each day through prayer. No one could see Theogrim’s suffering.

“…That is my role.”

“But it’s such a heavy burden. Please, rest from time to time.”

“If God hadn’t chosen me, I would still be just a child abandoned on the side of the road. That hunger, that despair, the cold and the pain… I’ve never forgotten them for even a moment.”

The white back of Theogrim’s hand, which held the pen, stood taut with firm veins.

“If I could lessen that suffering, if I could reduce that deprivation in the world even a little… I believed I could do anything.”

“Del Rose…”

“I was nothing more than a powerless orphan, and yet, the Lord took me in. If the touch of God could descend upon the world just through my prayers… then there is no reason not to pray until this body breaks and turns to dust.”

Theogrim, who had spoken kindly yet firmly, took the feather pen in hand. As he dipped it into noble violet ink and brought it toward the paper, Ianes spoke.

“Del Rose. Actually… there is something I’ve wanted to ask.”

It was a question brought forth with courage after hesitation. Theogrim looked up at Ianes.

“Before you came here as Del Rose… what kind of life did you live? How did you become the chosen boy?”

“……”

The story of Del Rose had been written like a myth, and thus, almost nothing was known about the time when he was merely a child abandoned on the streets before arriving here.

Loyal Ianes, who served him from the closest position, wanted to know more about his lord.

When Theogrim remained silent, the nervous young man straightened his back and quickly apologized.

“I’m sorry. That was an irreverent question…!”

“It was because of the famine.”

“…Pardon?”

Drip—violet ink dropped from Theogrim’s pen, forming a round blot on the paper. Theogrim set the pen down on the tray.

At the sudden lowering of Theogrim’s voice, the tense Ianes swallowed softly.

“That was over twenty years ago now. I was born during the Great Famine, and I was the only one among my siblings who survived.”

“…Ah! You mean the time of the fae hunt.”

Theogrim nodded. The Great Famine recorded in history had reduced the population by a third, and that hatred and fear led to an unprecedented mass hunting of fae.

“We were a poor farming family. My father and mother did everything they could to feed me. My mother dangled from a cliff to dig up tree roots, and even my father, who ran to save her…”

Theogrim inhaled once. It was the demeanor of someone long accustomed to mastering his emotions.