Holy Night: My Husband is Definitely a Paladin - Chapter 1
Translated by Elphie
Prologue (1)
Ssssh.
Irene bit her lip at the sound of water trickling from the bathroom. Strewn across the basket outside the bathroom door were clothes soaked in blood. From the look of it, whoever was washing inside had stripped down pretty quickly.
‘That’s strange.’
This was just not like him.
Like everything in the world had a place, he never changed it, and if he saw a mess, he’d quietly clean it up himself. Even if it was a blood-soaked mess of clothes.
‘But why…’
It wasn’t just the clothes scattered around. Beside the basket was a sword engraved with the emblem of the Holy Knights lay on the floor.
That sword meant more to him than his own life. As a paladin, he always prioritized securing that sword before anything else. People often joked that the sword was his true body, given how much he cherished it, living up to his nickname, the “Sword of God.”
But now, the sword was rolling across the floor, in a worse state than his tattered clothes.
Hssh.
With a twist of the valve, the sound of water ceased. He had finished his shower.
Irene looked nervously toward the bathroom.
He had surely gone in, a mess from the demonic blood, so she had expected for him to take quite a while longer…
‘So soon?’
Any moment now, he would open the door and come out. Irene’s heart beat faster at the thought of him. After all, the man in the bathroom was her husband. He was her legitimate spouse, so it shouldn’t be any issue that they were spending the night together.
‘Even if it is only temporary.’
He and Irene had entered into a temporary conjugal relationship known as a “pair.” Pair — a term used to describe a knight who enters a dungeon and fights demons and a purifier who tends to the knight’s wounds and cleanses them.
It was not uncommon for knights to receive wounds, large and small, while battling demons in dungeons. Wounds themselves were troublesome, but a bigger issue lay in the magic emitted by the monsters.
Magic gradually gnawed at the human mind, causing torment, hallucinations, and delusions. Once the threshold was crossed, a person would go berserk. Those who went berserk turned into monsters themselves. Hence, purifiers devoted all their efforts to cleansing the magic within their pairs.
The problem lay in the method of purification. The method itself was quite simple. They needed maximum physical contact with their partner. Even a simple touch, holding hands, could heal minor wounds. However, for more severe wounds or to purify the miasma, a closer, intimate contact was required. Embracing each other, kissing, but above all, mixing their bodies was the surest and quickest method. In fact, the knights preferred the latter method.
After merging with a purifier, all wounds healed completely, any accumulated miasma vanished entirely, and temporarily, their physical abilities were enhanced. That’s why before entering dungeons, even without any injury or affliction, many opted to merge their bodies.
‘But… he loathed even the slightest touch.’
Irene recalled their first contact. Any other pair would have headed straight for the bedroom. However, he stubbornly refused Irene’s touch, insisting that a brief rest would suffice.
Witnessing this, other pairs muttered among themselves.
“With her purifying abilities being so poor, it’s unlikely that mere contact will heal his wounds. Even if they merge, can they be able to treat a single injury?”
“There’s no way he’d accept a purification from a woman like that, let alone another high-ranking purifier.”
Amidst the taunts she had heard so many times that she had grown accustomed to them, Irene took his hand as he drew in a ragged breath.
Holding hands was the most fundamental form of purification for a pair and was as natural as breathing.
However, the moment Irene grasped his hand, his body trembled slightly, then stiffened. He turned away entirely, not once meeting her gaze until she released his hand.
‘He wouldn’t be this horrified even if facing a monster.’
Irene swallowed her frustration and embarrassment, exerting her power to its limit for his purification. Feeble as it was, her effort did heal him if only slightly.
Upon feeling the relief, he abruptly rose and left without a word, departing like a fleeing shadow, devoid of his usual courtesy. Irene could only hang her head in response.
‘He must have truly detested it.’
She had only wished to offer some assistance, yet she ended up repulsing him instead of aiding. More than the mockery of others, Irene’s heart wrenched at the sight of his retreating figure.
Since then, Irene dared not approach him. It was clear that no matter what she did, it would only disgust and offend him.
