Chapter 96
He couldn’t forget the look in Arzeletta’s eyes when she said those words.
There hadn’t been any special sadness or self-pity. She had spoken plainly, like it was nothing more than a statement of fact.
“Damn it, damn it, damn it—Arzeletta!”
He jumped to his feet and grabbed the metal pitcher left on the table.
He tilted his head back and gulped it down impatiently.
No matter how much water he drank, it didn’t put out the fire burning in his gut. Apparently, the fire wasn’t just in his head.
Exion’s throat convulsed violently. The way his body moved—rough, almost like a wild predator.
After downing the last drop of water, he slammed the pitcher down with irritation.
He opened the window. In the distance, he could see Ragnar’s castle. Exion’s throat convulsed once again, as though swallowing something rough and bitter.
He wanted to run. Not to the highest tower where all looked up in reverence, but to the lowest place in that castle.
Not to the brightest or most noble spot, not to the place of glory or sanctity, but to the exact opposite of all that.
To the place where those who must bear the filth and sin that allowed the castle to shine—those who slept hunched and forgotten—lingered.
It was a strange impulse.
But in truth, he instinctively knew—it was already too late.
“No man would want to marry a monster.”
At that moment, when Arzeletta said those words, he should have told her no. Without even a second of hesitation.
He wanted to beat himself for just standing there in silence like an idiot while she said that.
“…I really don’t know how to talk to women.”
He scrubbed his face roughly with his large hands. Even with the way he mistreated himself, his face was still annoyingly handsome.
Because of his flamboyant hair color, eye-catching features, and loud demeanor, people constantly misunderstood him. But in truth, Exion was clueless and timid when it came to talking to women.
He ate and drank like a beast, cursed in a thick drawl, joked crudely with things too filthy to say aloud, and threw punches whenever things didn’t go his way. He lived his days tangled with men like that, surviving life and death beside them, which masked his softer core.
Despite his reckless, thrill-seeking nature—and even though he’d had plenty of opportunities for debauchery while surrounded by others just as wild—Exion had remained oddly pure.
Unlike Ragnar, who walked the path of a Saint, or Theogrim, that pompous holy bastard, no one had ever forced Exion to take a vow of chastity.
But even so… it had been unavoidable.
To put it more bluntly—he just didn’t get aroused. No matter how much his fellow soldiers teased him, calling him a eunuch or saying he must be some deviant who only liked men, he stood his ground.
Even in front of the most stunning beauties, all he could think of were those frightened green eyes and that dark, lush hair.
To him, women—especially the noble young ladies around his age—were an entirely foreign species. Status made no difference.
They laughed like birds, spoke in long cryptic exchanges. For someone like Exion, who lacked even basic conversation skills, it felt like watching a duel with no swords. They attacked, parried, flanked, and retreated all with elegance and flair.
Even under Ragnar’s strict regulations, they always found a way to stand out with just the simplest accessories, knowing exactly which colors suited whom. Exion had never touched a book in his life, but he knew for certain—that kind of knowledge couldn’t be learned from reading.
“…And yet.”
The one who had completely tamed this wild beast of a man wasn’t any of those dazzling women.
It was a woman who didn’t know how to laugh prettily, who couldn’t hold a clever conversation, who didn’t know how to dress herself up—who seemed to have nothing in common with sweet sugar or delicate lace.
A woman so lowly, so poor, so utterly unadorned—Arzeletta, the humble maid.
Exion sat on the edge of the bed. He rested his chin on clasped hands, as though in prayer, and ran through his last conversation with her again and again.
He didn’t want to make the same mistake twice.
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