Looking for a Husband to Confine Me - Chapter 42.1
Chapter 42.1
Pazl’s brow twitched at Damian’s unfazed reaction. For a moment, anger flared in his eyes, but he quickly composed himself. He swept a pitying gaze across the room before slowly raising his hand. “Damn it! Stop him!”
Pazl’s movement startled Kelliard the most. He shouted at Damian, who remained still, and rushed forward. He moved to intercept Pazl, Damian’s sword still clutched in his hand. But Pazl was far quicker.
A click echoed as the door swung open, and Pazl brought a metal whistle to his lips. I saw the slow curl of a smile on Damian’s lips.
A shrill, piercing sound filled the suddenly wide-open space. Kelliard stopped in his tracks, positioning himself in front of Bashar, a clear sign of his protective intent.
More sharp blasts followed, but contrary to Pazl’s intentions, nothing emerged from the open doorway. The hallway remained silent, devoid of any approaching sounds.
Pazl blew the whistle again, and again. Damian simply watched, arms crossed, an air of challenge about him. Pazl seemed to realize something was amiss. “Wh-what’s going on?!”
He blew the whistle repeatedly, but no beasts appeared, not even a growl disturbed the silence. Only the sharp, metallic shriek of the whistle filled the still air.
“Oh dear, I forgot to mention something,” Damian said, as if just remembering. “While most of the knights are indeed in the annex, one of them actually arrived here.”
“What are you talking about?” A knight had arrived at the annex? Had one come to the sanctuary with Damian? Even so, there were supposed to be a horde of beasts. A single knight couldn’t possibly have dealt with them all…
Suddenly, I noticed someone standing in the hallway, just behind Pazl. Impeccably dressed in his uniform, he stood at the doorway as if he’d been there all along.
Damian’s smile deepened. “And it seems he’s arrived.”
“…He?”
The neatly uniformed man held a sword, stained with something dark. Yet, his uniform remained spotless. “I apologize for my tardiness, Your Highness,” the man said, his gaze fixed on Bashar.
“What?!” Pazl, who hadn’t noticed the man behind him, flinched and quickly turned around. The moment he saw the violet eyes of the man standing there, Ricardo Div, he let out a short cry and collapsed.
Ricardo, after rendering Pazl unconscious, looked down at the fallen man with an impassive expression.
“…Sir Div,” I breathed, unintentionally speaking his name. His violet eyes shifted to me.
“I’m glad you’re safe.” While the words seemed directed at Bashar, his gaze lingered on me.
I’d assumed Ricardo would be alright, but… I hadn’t expected him to be completely unscathed. He’d fallen into the underground chamber with that enormous beast, yet he didn’t bear a single scratch.
Damian stepped forward, placing himself between Ricardo and me. “Perhaps you should secure the servant first, Vice-Commander, before he gets away… again.”
“…That won’t happen again.” Ricardo frowned at Damian’s words and began to bind Pazl. He cuffed his wrists, gagged him, and then, using a magical tool, immobilized him completely.
I stared blankly as Ricardo worked, only snapping back to reality when Bashar spoke. “Are you hurt?”
“No, Your Highness. I’m fine.” His gaze fell to my left arm, to the makeshift bandage Damian had fashioned from a torn handkerchief.
I self-consciously hid my arm behind my back, forcing a smile. It was just a minor injury from earlier. It had been treated, so it wasn’t serious. Technically, I’d been the one who caused it in the first place.
“I’ll call a healer. We can’t have you getting a scar.” Damian stepped closer. I quickly looked him over.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
Part of his pristine white shirt was stained crimson. The wound Pazl had inflicted.
“Just a moment.” I reached out to examine his shoulder. The blade hadn’t gone all the way through, but it must have been deep. The shirt obscured the actual wound.
“I’m a little shy when you look at me like that.” His playful voice floated above me as I unbuttoned his shirt.
The wound wasn’t large, but it was deep. Moreover, it hadn’t stopped bleeding. I frowned, looking up at him. “Who needs treatment right now?”
“Are you worried about me?”
“What if you’d damaged a nerve?!” I suddenly remembered him grabbing the sword. I checked his palm. As expected, a deep gash oozed blood.
“We need to stop the bleeding.” I rummaged through my pockets for something to use as a bandage, but found nothing. I clicked my tongue in frustration. There was nothing suitable. Using dirty cloth risked infection.
