Tamed Monster - Chapter 84

Harboring feelings like that would only end up eating away at herself, consumed by darkness from within. Sylvia found that just as much as she feared or hated monsters, she was also deeply curious about them.

Kuinan was inwardly impressed by her perceptiveness. Truthfully, he had been too obvious, openly conversing with Hector.

He’d never taught her the monster tongue, but somehow he felt that, if he showed her just a word or two, she’d quickly grasp the principles of their language. The fact that she could already sense meaning in those hissing, sibilant sounds as if they were real words—well, that was impressive.

“Well… I don’t remember having any sort of conversation with him.”

Kuinan deflected smoothly. He had to deny it, to keep her from catching on that he and Hector were old acquaintances. Sylvia didn’t look at him; she just kept her gaze lowered, lost in thought.

While she drifted back into her own reflections, Kuinan quietly brushed the dirt from her cheek and wiped the blood off her brow.

“And another thing.”

She raised her head again.

“…Hm?”

“How is my body so light? I mean, I’m just a regular human woman, nothing special.”

She could accept not feeling hungry—maybe that was just the result of intense stress. But to feel healthier now, out here in the wild, after everything they’d been through—how could she be in better shape than back at the castle, when she’d been taking care of herself?

After two relentless days and nights of s*x, she’d somehow ended up feeling even better physically. Surely her husband knew the real reason why.

“Mm… Well, that’s…”

“You said it, remember? That day, before you took me. You said my body was sick because it wasn’t used to the swamp, and that you were healing me with your own, since you were already poisoned. But I still don’t understand how that could possibly work.”

She was sure her husband was infected with monster poison—that much was obvious. After all, his thing looked so horrifying; it had to be the result of some monstrous curse.

There was no way a normal man would be changed like that otherwise.

So, she was willing to believe that part. But the rest—the idea that the swamp could somehow choose to like or dislike someone, and ruin their body as it pleased? That was impossible to believe. The swamp wasn’t some sentient creature with a will of its own… was it?

Her husband seemed to have trouble answering. Sylvia had become just perceptive enough to read his moods, if not his expressions, then at least the feeling in the air around him.

Picking up on this, she hesitated and closed her mouth.

Ten seconds. A minute. Five minutes of silence.

Then,

“Didn’t you feel good when we had s*x?”

Sylvia’s eyes flew wide open in shock at the question out of the blue. Once the words registered, she snapped at him.

“What did you just say?”

It was such a rude question—so out of left field, she couldn’t even imagine what had prompted it. Sylvia glared at him. He stared calmly back. The longer the silence stretched, the more her anger simmered—until at last, Sylvia broke it.

“What kind of nonsense is that?”

Her voice was gentler than her feelings, considering how mad she was. Her husband tilted his head in that infuriatingly clueless way he had—an old, familiar gesture. The longer he stayed silent, the more Sylvia felt her irritation boil over.

“Didn’t you hear me?”

“I did. I was thinking. Hm… I don’t think it was an inappropriate question, this time.”

He always seemed so genuinely confused, as if he never understood why she was upset. He just didn’t get it: it was his own idiotic comments that made her angry.

He wasn’t even worth giving time to reflect on what he’d said—he simply didn’t have a working concept of social boundaries.

“You felt good, and you survived. Isn’t that enough? We can figure out the mechanics later.”

He seemed to be saying that survival came first, and they could sort out the rest after. But if that was the priority, he certainly didn’t act like it—he behaved like someone with a death wish, acting recklessly.

It had been the knights who tried to keep things under control—and now, only Sylvia was left to do that.

“So it’s fine because I ‘felt good’?”

She stumbled again onto the one phrase she found most objectionable. He clammed up, realizing any further conversation would only make things worse. Maybe that was wise—or maybe just another sign of his idiocy. Fuming, Sylvia jumped to her feet.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m done resting. We need to get out of this awful place.”

Her legs ached. Sure, her body felt better than it had in the castle, but after a full day slogging through mud, no one could feel light as air. Between her fading stamina and her husband’s idiotic remarks, Sylvia was utterly exhausted as she hurried off.

“Slow down. If you trip and break your leg, I’ll have to carry you, you know.”

With the dead monster’s arm still slung over his shoulder, her husband whined after her. The way he said it, it almost sounded like a promise to take care of her if she got hurt.

Sylvia found her feelings mixed. Surely he didn’t mean it. If she really broke her leg, he’d have no choice but to abandon her.

And yet, after that last piece of nonsense, Sylvia couldn’t help herself—she slowed down, watching the ground, walking with a little more care.