Chapter 16

Riding the moonlight, her pale golden hair cascaded down like a veil.  

“Hah, huff, ahh…”  

The pressure of his entire body against hers radiated warmth. It was the first warmth from another she had known since the faint memories of her grandmother’s embrace.  

The woman cautiously wrapped her arms around the man’s neck. His nose, greedily buried against her chest as if drinking in her essence, left an indelible mark on her skin. For a moment, his blue eyes brushed her face, devoid of the usual cold indifference she knew so well. What shimmered within them was not the aloofness she was familiar with, but a raw, desperate desire to press even more of himself against her.  

To her, those half-lidded eyes—eyes only she knew—felt like a kind of love.  

“Hah, ahh, hmm…”  

A dull euphoria blossomed amidst the rough friction of their movements.  

Breathless moans mingled with the man’s fervent kisses on her nape. As he desperately consumed her, he drove deeper into her, each thrust tightening their connection. Every act, to her, was love.  

And she, too, loved Karel.  

***

Selma didn’t take long to notice.  

In her in, there was no guest as noble as Karel Montferdia. The third-floor hallway, lined with luxury suites, was practically his private domain. If anyone frequented that hallway as much as Karel did, it would be none other than the innkeeper herself, who tended to the finest rooms day and night.  

“Hah, huff, Sir Knight… ah, mm…”  

Despite the soundproofing, the stifled cries inevitably seeped through the doorframe. The rhythmic pounding of the man’s hips reverberated through the bed, furniture, and walls, echoing through the nights. There was no way Selma could remain unaware.  

Should I scold her until she cried?  

On the other hand, she felt a pang of self-deprecation, wondering if a commoner like her could dare intervene when such a lofty person insisted on taking what he wanted. All Selma could do was maintain the pretense that the girl was staying in her own room, silencing any gossip among the inn’s staff.  

If he brought her to the royal palace, wouldn’t that be better? At least better than the names whispered among the elders of Oedel…  

‘But…’  

While Selma wrestled with her thoughts, rumors began spreading from places beyond her control.  

“That’s him, right?”

“When did he go from glaring at us like we’re trash to… this?”

“I thought he didn’t even have the hobby of chasing women.” 

The mercenary knights chuckled among themselves.  

The expedition from the royal capital was divided into two groups. Half were knights who had crossed the line of death alongside Karel multiple times, and the other half were mercenaries hired with a fortune for this perilous mission and knighted for the journey. It was unreasonable to expect knightly virtues from men hired for a winter expedition to Magiella’s night, a journey with a high likelihood of ending in death.  

“Even someone as noble as him has… certain needs.”  

“Look closely. If she just fixed that awkward hair, she’d be pretty.”  

Bang.  

A knight at the next table slammed his beer mug down, cutting off the mercenaries’ conversation. Startled, they feigned surprise and lowered their voices, though faint chuckles lingered like echoes.  

Selma, nervously observing the two tables, glanced at the knight who had silenced his colleagues. A man with slightly long brown hair tied back—Karel’s lieutenant, Winden.  

Should I hope that this lord would prevent the rumors from spreading further?  

Winden was troubled in his own way.  

He had learned of the situation just a few days prior. After a meeting, he had followed Karel to discuss something urgent. Once he confirmed that the other knights had dispersed to the shared rooms on other floors, he stepped onto the third floor where Karel’s room was.  

“Huff…”  

Amidst the faint sounds of breathing, unmistakable, intimate noises reached his ears—wet, slurred sounds of a man’s tongue exploring every corner of a woman’s mouth.  

Soon, Winden’s eyes caught sight of Karel pressing a woman against the door, his broad back obscuring her.  

His Lordship brought a woman here?  

Judging by her attire, she seemed to be a maid from the inn…?  

Winden, unable to believe what he was seeing, froze in place by the staircase.  

Click.  

As Karel’s empty hand grasped the doorknob, the moonlight streaming through the hallway window illuminated the woman’s face, serene as she received his kiss.  

As Winden etched the scene into his mind, he suddenly froze.  

‘That’s…’  

The woman’s face, fully revealed for the first time without her usual messy bangs, was unmistakable to Winden, who had served Karel for over a decade.  

‘That girl… a few days ago…’  

A serving maid had accidentally offended Karel. Startled by the knights’ intimidating presence, she had seemed like a frightened little rabbit. She had followed him upstairs, offering to wash his tunic, and Karel had not returned since.  

‘She said she left a new tunic outside his door because he didn’t answer… Was that when it happened?’  

Karel, who typically showed no interest in others, let alone women, had given no indication that anything had transpired.  

But now, things had escalated to this point?  

‘Did he notice her face back then? I thought he was simply angry and intimidating her…’  

Winden, deeply unsettled, had been avoiding direct interaction with Karel ever since. He feared that any conversation might lead to questions about the maid. While it wasn’t his place to interfere with whom Karel chose to spend his nights, he knew Karel had remained celibate for 27 years. Moreover, the maid…  

‘It’s absurd that I didn’t recognize her just because of her bangs.’  

Her timid blushes and polite demeanor with guests had not hinted at this. But when her smooth forehead had glowed under the moonlight, Winden had been momentarily stunned.  

Her violet eyes, brimming with affection, her flushed cheeks anticipating joy, her delicate nose, and her lips unable to hide their smile…  

‘It’s because of her again.’

Having accompanied Karel for over a decade, Winden had occasionally been present when Karel met with his liege. The cold, sharp face of the royal princess had always sent a chill down his spine.  

Though her expression was different, the maid’s face bore a striking resemblance to the first princess of Cambiano.  

Even her bangs were the same color as the princess’s hair. Untreated with any oils, her hair was stiff and dull, making it unrecognizable to a warrior with no sense of aesthetics.  

‘He’s only ever known the first princess since childhood.’  

Still, this…  

Winden couldn’t understand the situation. 

Could it be that Karel’s feelings for the princess were not loyalty but desire? Even so, was it acceptable for him to spend nights with a commoner who resembled her? What did this mean for their relationship?  

Even if Winden could dismiss it as a matter of personal preference…  

‘What else could I do? If I don’t send you, His Majesty will suspect I covet the throne.’  

Winden vividly remembered how tightly Karel had clenched his gauntleted hand back then.  

As a Montferdia, Karel had been sent to the battlefield twelve times simply for pledging his knightly oath to the first princess. Each time, he had gone willingly, defying all odds to return alive, only to be sent to another graveyard.  

And now, as he prepared to march to the Gray Mountains for the final battle of Magiella’s night, Karel had shown a flicker of anger. Or perhaps Winden had merely projected his own feelings. 

Was Karel enduring this out of loyalty to the princess, as always?  

Or was this an act of revenge against her?  

‘No, that can’t be. Considering his character…’  

Lost in thought, Winden unknowingly emptied his beer.  

‘…I should at least have the expedition team keep their mouths shut.’

If the people in this inn kept quiet, the rumors wouldn’t reach the royal capital, even if Karel Montferdia were to perish in the Gray Mountains.  

The royal predators eagerly awaiting Karel’s downfall must not hear of his scandal.  

Karel Monferdia’s mistake, which the beasts of the royal castle would be desperately waiting for, must never happen — not even in a dream. 

***

Knock, knock. 

“Um, Sir Knight.”  

Knock, knock.  

“They made some juice in the kitchen….”  

A woman’s thin voice seeped into Karel’s room through the gap in the door. It was while Karel was drifting off into a brief nap, during the time when the knights under his command had gone down to the marketplace to replenish supplies.  

Creak — the door opened without so much as a sign of movement.  

As the man roughly pulled her in, the woman was immediately thrown onto the luxurious bed. The glass of juice, which had served as nothing more than a flimsy excuse, fell somewhere along the way. A crimson liquid mixed with late-autumn apples and a few berries soaked into the carpet.