From the Tip of the Tongue of the Lowliest Maid - Chapter 20
A sense of liberation, difficult for even herself to comprehend, slowly crept over her. Suppressing a bursting laugh, she looked at the pebble on the ground.
She had wanted to do this to that man.
Like this!
This dirty bastard who touched and humiliated her without permission, this man who threatened and ultimately tried to violate her—like this!
Unable to laugh, she clenched her fists and trembled her shoulders, hearing whispers from behind.
“What, is she crazy?”
“…Oh dear. It’s that cursed Arzeletta. After disfiguring Lord Theogrim’s face, what nerve she has.”
“Still, she saved her life thanks to Del Rose. Does she, a mere subject, think she can judge a thief?”
Hearing the whispers, Arzeletta snapped back to attention. As usual, she hunched her body low and scurried through the crowd.
“Hey there. Back, back.”
As Arzeletta passed by, people stepped back as if avoiding something dirty. This was better than being hit or having her hair pulled.
‘Exion the scoundrel.’
Arzeletta walked quickly, repeating that name in her mind. The person who killed that man for her. But also the person who tried to harass her in the same way.
But.
‘For some reason, it felt like… he was trying to comfort me.’
Why? Arzeletta pondered for a moment, then shook her head.
He must have seen her pitiful state and wanted to play the same trick as the dead man.
The only reason she had managed to protect her body despite being tossed about by countless men was the fear evoked by this hideous back. The villagers believed that if they touched Arzeletta, their skin would rot just like hers.
Perhaps Exion was the same. He might have harassed her like a rolling toy, but hesitated to mix his flesh with her rotten skin.
“……”
Thinking that, Arzeletta was no longer afraid of Exion.
It was a very unfamiliar feeling. It was almost the first time she hadn’t felt afraid of a man, or anyone else.
Arzeletta suddenly stopped and looked at her hands. The sensation of the pebble she had gripped still lingered.
She wanted to see Exion. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to say, or what she wanted to hear.
She looked up, and the red sunset was fading. Yesterday, she was covered in that man’s blood under this sunset, but today, she clutched a pebble under it.
Arzeletta turned and headed somewhere.
“Why are you so down?”
In the midst of the clamor, a man clapped Exion heartily on the back, who was alone, tipping a pewter mug. The man’s stylishly groomed mustache wiggled playfully.
“I mean, our esteemed young master…”
“You exerted yourself for the salvation of the domain, our light, the great Del Rose.”
“Indeed, a Holy Knight is different.”
“…Shut up.”
Exion ground his teeth in response as his cronies chuckled and teased him. Regardless, Exion’s group continued to tease him, enjoying themselves.
Outside the castle walls, in an area where alcohol was forbidden, Exion enjoyed debauchery with his crew. Though it was rough, fermented barley beer, it was precious in a place where drinking was strictly prohibited.
Exion’s crew gathered in this bunker, all belonging to the 3rd Battalion of the Rosenburg Lord’s Knights.
Compared to the 1st Battalion, which guarded the Lord most closely, and the 2nd Battalion, which protected the villagers, Exion’s 3rd Battalion consisted entirely of combat-trained soldiers.
They had been together in all sorts of battles and hunts. They didn’t care about the fighting ground as long as it guaranteed money and fun. They were a violent, unrestrained, and frivolous bunch.
It was Ragnar’s clever arrangement: though Exion had received the anointing of a Holy Knight by exercising divine power, Ragnar couldn’t keep the cursed red-head within the castle. Rumor even had it that their combat prowess alone could allow them to fight an Orc horde.
They were proud of the nickname ‘Bastards’ attached to the 3rd Battalion. It was a stale act of wickedness, but a rather proud taste. Roving around and destroying everything, they considered each other family. Retaliation against those who harmed their family was merciless.
Exion ignored his chuckling crew and chugged down the dark barley beer again.
He felt bothered, annoyed, and generally off. It was an unpleasant and uncomfortable feeling, as if he alone was missing something important.
‘Why this feeling all of a sudden?’
Exion roughly ruffled his red hair. The more he tried to shake it off, the more vividly a terribly unpleasant yet stimulating memory emerged.
Green bushes, a lakeside that felt both peaceful and eerie, a slender white body faintly trembling there, and a dirty… like an animal mounting her…
“T-Theo…!”
“S**t!”
Exion hurled the beer mug in his hand. It made quite a loud sound, but no one there cared.
Exion didn’t realize that the most unpleasant thing was the name Arzeletta had swallowed, unable to utter it fully.
