Chapter 40

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter Title: Chapter 136

-----------------------------------------------------------------

I blankly looked up at Rihart.

He gazed down at us with an utterly expressionless face.

The sword in his hand bore clear traces of violence.

Bright red blood trickled down the length of the long blade.

I shifted my gaze to the man collapsed on top of me.

Judging by the circumstances, he’d been taken down by Rihart. His body was covered in wounds, a complete mess.

“Young Lord Paello? What the hell...”

“Guhk!”

But I couldn’t finish my sentence.

Rihart’s sword pierced straight through Young Lord Paello’s body.

Red blood splattered across me.

“Cough...”

Wet blood sprayed from Young Lord Paello’s cracked, parched lips.

The grip he’d had on me slackened. His heavy body slumped fully onto mine.

I couldn’t utter a word or make a move. I simply took Paello into my arms as he collapsed against me.

A man had died right before my eyes.

My mind went blank. In my numb ears, the click of shoe heels striking the ground echoed dully.

Rihart indifferently lifted Paello’s corpse and shoved it off me.

“Are you alright?”

“...”

“Oh dear. You must be quite shaken.”

He looked down at me with pity.

His cold fingers brushed my cheek.

The sharp difference in temperature made my skin crawl, my body shrinking back on instinct.

“You just... killed someone...”

“I didn’t kill a person.”

“Murderer.”

“I was only doing my duty.”

His duty?

Killing a man inside someone else’s mansion?

“You must think I’m some thug. If you knew who that dead man was, you wouldn’t say such things.”

I couldn’t bring myself to ask who he was.

But Rihart smiled faintly and volunteered the answer anyway.

“A demon worshipper.”

“A demon worshipper?”

“I caught a demon worshipper trying to flee, Miss Camilla.”

It was utterly unexpected. Yet the situation made no sense whatsoever.

Even as I tried to think, all that played in my head was Paello meeting his end.

“You’ve got blood on your face.”

Rihart pulled out his handkerchief, gazing at my dazed self with pity.

My body remained frozen from shock, unable to take it from him, so Rihart wiped the blood from my cheek himself.

But the blood wouldn’t come off easily. Instead, it smeared across my face.

He tossed the soaked handkerchief aside and brushed at the dried streaks on my skin.

His blue eyes flickered with a strange intensity. Then Rihart leaned down and pressed his lips to my cheek.

Suddenly, my wits snapped back.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing...”

“Captain!”

Just then, the countess rushed over, clutching her skirts.

She took in the scene calmly. The sprawled corpse and my blood-soaked form didn’t faze her in the slightest—her expression stayed perfectly composed.

“Miss, are you alright? Oh no, your nice fresh clothes are ruined with blood. I’ll fetch you something new, so just wait a moment.”

Afterward, her servants hurried in and cleared the body away like it was nothing.

No one batted an eye at any of this.

I felt like the only insane one here.

“For now, the young lady seems deeply shocked, so we should move her somewhere quieter. I ought to escort her to a room, but...”

“I’ll take her.”

Countess Milrad’s troubled expression shifted at the unexpected response.

But she soon nodded as if it made sense, murmuring that she’d leave Miss Camilla in his care.

Rihart scooped up Rozhi, who was still slumped on the ground, too stunned to even stand.

He felt her trembling violently against him—like a predator cradling fragile prey.

How pitiful.

Yet a smile tugged at his lips all the same.

Two months earlier, when Rihart had seen Rozhi embracing Marquis Evantes, a question burned in his mind.

Why had she chosen Evantes?

He’d promised her everything, too.

What made that man so different from him?

So why choose Evantes—and smile so sweetly while wrapping her arms around him?

The woman who looked just like Rozhi, as if wearing her skin, had mocked Rihart’s pathetic jealousy.

I’ll help you get the girl you want. In return...

The woman had proposed a deal.

You help me. Step in when I ask. Stay by my side until I no longer need you.

Think I’d accept that?

She’d widened her eyes, as if there was no reason not to.

You can’t have her on your own power anyway.

...

She hates you. Force might work, but... you know that, don’t you?

She’d spilled the harsh truths he didn’t want to hear, casual as could be.

She’ll never accept your heart.

For life.

She’d added it cruelly.

Powerless, Rihart had no comeback. Everything she said rang true.

Rozhi hated him. She might never accept him in her lifetime.

Who the hell are you?

Who was she to know their bond so intimately?

He’d gritted his teeth and closed in on her. But she’d stared back, amused at his audacity.

Don’t you need my help?

No.

You say that now. You’ll change your mind later.

She’d smiled cryptically, touching her chest with theatrical flair.

Because I’ll take everything from her. Not leaving a scrap behind.

...

What happens to her with nowhere left to turn?

She’d burst into laughter at the thought, delighted beyond measure.

It was a chilling cackle—like a ghost’s mirth, enough to raise goosebumps on anyone who heard.

Tell me if you reconsider.

...

See you around.

With that, she’d vanished.

Tempting offer, but it hadn’t swayed him. No matter his desperation, he wasn’t fool enough to clutch that suspicious hand.

Afterward, Rihart hunted Rozhi’s trail.

He learned fresh news.

Marquis Evantes had taken a blonde mistress. Oddly, Rozhi—who’d left with him—had vanished without a trace.

Like liquid superheated to steam, scattering into nothingness.

Yet part of him wondered if that mistress was Rozhi.

So he’d gone searching...

And there, emerging from a café with Marquis Evantes: a blonde woman.

Her golden locks swayed in the breeze like petals in a sunlit field.

The wind picked up.

Crowds streamed past his eyes, but only that golden hair seared into his brain.

Rozhi.

He’d called her name, entranced. His voice brimmed with feverish yearning and hope.

Don’t forget me.

Remember me.

Think of me...

Look at me.

Had she heard? Or sensed his pent-up longing? She turned, startled.

Her blue eyes quivered, scanning the throng for him.

Meeting that gaze, he’d melted into the crowd.

In that instant, he’d known.

She never should have looked back.

The moment their eyes met, certainty gripped him: he’d never let her go. Not in this lifetime.

And now.

Rihart held her close—disheveled, beyond caring about her state.

The countess handled the aftermath and offered a room for the rattled Rozhi.

Claiming worry, he’d followed her inside without a second thought.

He settled her on the sofa, then plopped shamelessly beside her. But she stared vacantly ahead, still adrift in shock.

Lost in thought, perhaps.

He drew her into his arms, guiding her hand to his lips.

No reaction even as he kissed between her fingers.

“Look at me.”

“...”

“Rozhi.”

Finally, awareness flickered in her blue eyes.

Rozhi lifted her head to meet his gaze.

“How...”

Her red lips quivered, agape—as if demanding how he’d known.

So endearing, the urge to kiss her surged. But he restrained himself. Instead, he buried his lips deep against her fingers.

He wanted to savor this forever.

But then.

“Marquis! Calm down...!”

An urgent shout from outside—and bam! The door flew open.

Marquis Evantes stormed in, face twisted in fury.

His eyes landed on Rozhi—bloodied dress and all—in the Holy Knight Captain’s arms. Arjen’s brow furrowed deeply.

He glared at Rihart.

Taking in the sight of Rihart’s lips pressed to her fingers, he let out a disbelieving scoff.

“Ha. This whole place has lost its damn mind.”