From the Tip of the Tongue of the Lowliest Maid - Chapter 78

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

What he felt at that moment was shame.

“Filthy bastard child, unclean red hair.”

“The stain of the holy Rosenburg territory.”

“The only way to wash away the shame of your existence is this.”

“……!”

Recalling the pain that felt like his entire body was being crushed, Exion inhaled sharply. His broad chest tightened with the breath he took.

“Exion, Third Captain of the Rosenburg Knights. That is your place.”

“Keep your riffraff from stirring up trouble in the castle. As long as they don’t cause problems, I won’t interfere.”

Exion looked at the woman enclosed in his arms. He looked at his own stupidly thick, muscle-bound arms that had just wielded force against a woman.

He thought to himself. He had money, a horse that could run far, weapons to protect himself, strength, and an armband that secured his status.

And even with all that, he hadn’t left this territory, still remaining pitifully beneath Ragnar’s shadow.

All over nothing more than self-pity over his red hair.

“……”

He stared silently into Arzeletta’s green eyes. It felt like being struck by something heavy and unrelenting.

Among everything Exion had in excess, Arzeletta possessed not a single thing.

And yet, she endured everything just to live, with nothing but her bare hands.

Go marry the hunchback already.

That was a song they had all heard to death since they were old enough to understand—Arzeletta, Exion, even Yoseph.

While Exion had pitied himself for something like his red hair, the girl, whom no one ever protected, had lived every day listening to that song.

Could a woman like her ever have had the chance to choose a different life? How could she live without being condemned? How dare he claim she hadn’t tried.

“…Arzeletta.”

Exion called her name in a slightly hoarse voice.

Ever since he had heard that Arzeletta had nearly gone through a marriage sacrament with Yoseph, his burning heart had frozen cold. Now he realized—the one he should be angry with wasn’t Arzeletta. But at the same time, he had no idea what to say to her.

“…I have to go now.”

Arzeletta slightly shrank back from within Exion’s arms. It wasn’t resistance—just the faintest motion, barely a sign of her presence. She had always lived this way. As if she were some insect that would be crushed the moment someone sensed her existence.

But Exion couldn’t let her go. It was a strange feeling. This moment felt… somehow important.

The sun was setting, and a red hue settled across Arzeletta’s pale face. It was the same ominous red as his own. That crimson bled across her delicate lashes, under her small nose, across her philtrum and lips where he wanted to place his fingers.

Dark red pooled within the hollow of her collarbones. She was growing darker by the second, being stained with his color—and Exion clutched her with a suffocating heart.

A strange foreboding gripped him. If he didn’t do something now—right now—

“I have to prepare the offering for the Lord.”

…he felt like he would lose her for a very, very long time.

“……”

But slowly, he let his arms drop. Even now, Exion was still afraid—afraid of facing what he had to do, afraid of facing his own heart.

“……”

Freed from his arms, Arzeletta looked up at him. While she was awash in the colors of sunset, Exion stood deeply cloaked in the shadows of backlight. The sunlight behind him made his red hair blaze even more vividly.

After a brief hesitation, Arzeletta parted her lips.

“And… thank you. That day.”

“……?”

“For covering me… with your cloak.”

She narrowed her eyes, remembering the red cloak that had been draped over her when she had regained consciousness. Exion sucked in a sharp breath.

For a moment, it looked almost like… a smile.

The monster and the hunchback had eight kids! The devil eats them one by one and hides the leftovers in the hunchback’s shell!

“…Then.”

Inhaling the songs of curses directed at her like breathing, Arzeletta turned her body. As she slipped from Exion’s hand, her long black hair brushed against the back of his rough hand.

Even until the moment she disappeared into that slaughterhouse—Exion couldn’t break free from her lingering presence.