The Runaway Maid is Loved by the Archmage - Chapter 125

※ This book contains depictions of coercive/dubcon/noncon acts, violence, and immorality. Reader discretion is advised.

When Roina opened her eyes in the morning, she found herself embraced in the warm, firm arms of a man. It was Lutan.

He was holding her smooth waist and shoulders preciously.

Both of them were completely bare. Despite having shared Roina with Rager at the same time the previous day, Lutan had muttered shortly afterward, “This won’t do,” and brought her into the bedroom with him. As if something were chasing him. It was uncharacteristically unstable of him.

Roina gently stroked Lutan’s firm shoulder with a smile that resembled a sigh. The two lay in bed together, wrapped in nothing but a sheet.

It was her fault that Lutan had become so sensitive.

She rested her head against the warm and broad chest of the man. She could feel his chest rise and fall with his breaths.

Clenching her teeth, she had broken free from the Imperial Crown Prince, had come to live with the Great Archmage whom she had felt an inevitable pull toward, and they had become intimately involved. Out of a lingering sense of guilt and responsibility, she had rescued Rager at Amasto Territory.

Though she had enjoyed everything as the first mage who had brought magic to humans before the founding of the empire, in the end, she had never acknowledged herself as the reincarnation of the primordial mage.

Was she still trapped by the Roina who had once been the Imperial Crown Prince’s slave? She was sick of her half-hearted self, and toward Lutan—who embraced her despite that—she felt both gratitude and guilt.

She slipped her hand over his shoulder and hugged him tightly. She could feel not only his breathing but also the beating of his heart. At some point, Lutan, now awake, wrapped his arms around her in return. Then he gently pressed his lips to her forehead in greeting.

“Good morning, Roina.”

Roina looked at him with wavering eyes. The time she had lived at the bottom as a s*x slave, no matter how short, was the kind of experience that left deep scratches on the soul. Even if the countless nights spent with Lutan had suppressed the aura of death to the point that it could hardly surface, even if being loved by him filled her with overwhelming happiness that swept away that misfortune—it was the same.

She was always anxious, and she constantly questioned why he loved her. She could not accept his love in her heart.

That anxiety of hers transferred to Lutan and began to affect him. Yesterday’s act with Rager was proof of that. He was not someone who would have done such a thing under normal circumstances. On the contrary, that event brought a certain clarity to Roina’s heart.

She was, in truth, someone unworthy of being loved.

“Lutan, you don’t have to do this.”

“……What?”

Roina bit her lip. A piercing ache welled up deep in her chest. Could she endure without Lutan? That doubt slowly reared its head. But Roina firmly steeled herself and turned away from that fear.

“You knew, didn’t you? Probably even before going to Amasto Territory. That I no longer need your mana.”

“…….”

Supporting himself on one arm, Lutan quietly lowered his head to look at Roina, his eyes sinking into shadow. Roina pushed away the arm that was still wrapped around her.

Seeing him remain silent carved an even greater pain into a corner of her heart. She was anxious—overwhelmingly so. Her heart, in truth, was like standing before a violent storm.

It was like a small sailboat, never able to raise its mast, always crouched down. Just like that, holding onto her wounded heart.

“Lutan, don’t push yourself.”

“Roina, this is absolutely not—”

“No. Let’s stop now. Us.”

She firmly pushed him away. The atmosphere of the bedroom, which had felt like a sweet newlywed home just moments ago, froze over in an instant. This was the first time she had ever clearly rejected Lutan.

To claim she loved someone while unable to even tend to her own wounds? She couldn’t do that. Even if her heart had already gone to Lutan, it was the same. In the end, she could never bring herself to tell him she loved him. What kind of love was it if it could never be returned?

At the very least, until she could be sure she was someone worthy of being loved, she needed to keep her distance. This incomplete and selfish relationship—where she half-heartedly turned away and feebly consumed his love—had to end now.

For her, the avoidance had lasted long. That was how sweet his affection had been, how addictive their intimacy. All this time, unlike her usual self, she had shut off all sight and sound and indulged in him.