Chapter 43

Karel both loathed Shati’s violet eyes and considered her existence a blessing, as she had ultimately brought him back. She desired him for who he was, not for his lineage or usefulness. He believed it was now his fate to take care of her—a woman whose life would have become irreversibly miserable had he not returned.

Unable to reconcile these contradictory emotions, he relied on the simplest and most primal feelings to mask them. And once again, his desire stirred beneath his clothing.

From the moment he grabbed Shati’s wrist—or rather, from the moment she entered his room carrying a simple tray of refreshments—or perhaps even earlier, when she knocked on his door—or no, maybe from the moment he started waiting for her. Every single moment seemed to ignite his instincts.

‘Lie down.’

‘Ah, Sir Knight, but…’

‘You don’t have to eat it. Just put it away.’

What followed was an act devoid of kisses or f*replay—just plain intercourse. He kept his distance, unwilling to be overwhelmed by the ambiguous scent that stirred his guilt, focusing solely on the physical act of coupling.

There was no hesitation. Shati had nothing to expect from their nights together—no tenderness, no affection. She couldn’t hope for someone to lovingly touch her hair or body, nor prepare her for intimacy. All she had was the exploitation of her being.

And so, he thrust into her roughly and repeatedly, finishing selfishly. Yet, as always, Shati took care of him afterward. Using the hem of her skirt, which she had willingly lifted above her waist for him, she wiped his member clean. Though he had lost his rigidity after climax, the lingering tension in his body surged again.

The humble fragrance clung persistently to his senses.

“Suck it.”

“W-what?”

When Karel gave in to his sadistic urges to dispel his lingering turmoil, Shati’s rare violet eyes trembled in surprise. The man who had been ferociously thrusting into her mere moments ago now appeared composed, dressed neatly in his tunic, leaning against the window frame with one arm resting on the sill. He gazed down at her with a calm and detached expression.

It was as if he had never uttered any vulgar words, his sensual lips sealed firmly.

“I said, suck it.”

With a slight tilt of his chin, he gestured toward his now-hardened member.

Ah… Hesitating briefly, Shati cautiously wrapped her hands around him.

“Whatever’s on it is yours anyway.”

Though he knew perfectly well that her hesitation wasn’t caused by that, Karel deliberately spoke coldly. Shati’s small, red tongue tentatively ran along his length, her narrow mouth enveloping the tip.

“Ugh…”

Even though he had cl*maxed just moments ago, the sensation of her mouth—deceptively skilled—sent another wave of pleasure coursing through him.

Karel truly could not endure Shati’s kindness.

Despite exploiting her tenderness, using the power and authority his father had bestowed upon him to commit such cruel acts, he failed to restrain himself. Instead, he sought to drown his inner turmoil in the gentle ecstasy Shati offered, allowing it to melt his mind.

Such a man could never confess anything to her.

The veil Winden had given him was likely stuffed somewhere among his belongings, just as he buried his complex feelings for Shati beneath his base desires. His final shred of conscience was ensuring he left no cursed legacy of his father’s bloodline behind.

* * *

The departure date approached quickly.

Finally, on the day the expedition team was set to leave Oedel, Selmane’s courtyard bustled with activity from early morning. Though more than ten days had passed since the end of Magiella’s night, the weather had warmed significantly. Yet, as the sun had not yet risen, everyone huddled into their fur-lined clothing to ward off the chill.

White puffs of breath escaped the mouths of the chattering crowd.

“Hey, ah—no, Shati. Take care. Live well out there.”

“I’ll write to you if I ever visit the royal capital.”

“Idiot. Why would someone like Shati bother meeting you now? Just ask Tommy to help you write a letter.”

“Shati, live your life proudly and happily.”

The village’s reckless youths, who had been friendly with the youngest servant at the nameless inn, babbled their nonsense.

“You’ve earned a name and a husband. Things turned out well for you.”

“Be happy when you get there. Serve Sir Knight well.”

“Stay healthy, alright?”

The adults, who had tried to use Shati for the village’s benefit, spoke pleasant words within Karel’s earshot. Their intentions were clear—they hoped Shati’s beauty, which had caught the eye of someone distinguished, could somehow benefit the village. Their calculating glances darted nervously toward Karel.

As for Karel, he stood by indifferently, leaning against the doorframe with his steed tethered beside him, seemingly detached from the scene.

“How sentimental they’re being, this early in the morning.”

“Aren’t those guys regulars at Selmane?”

“Probably trying to get on the leader’s good side.”

The expedition members glanced at the villagers’ farewell gestures while busily organizing their gear.

“Shati, live a happy life. If you have any happiness left over, send some my way.”

Lenny, the daughter of the general store, clutched Shati’s hand tightly as she spoke. At some point, she had slipped the Fairy Mother’s stone into Shati’s palm.

It was a pure white stone shaped like a crescent moon, similar to the decorative tassels made to cheer for Karel’s previous expedition. Though it was rougher than the one Shati had purchased from the general store, it still had a charm that could fetch a good price.

Shati’s eyes brimmed with warmth, her cheeks flushing red.

“Lenny…”

“I’ll definitely visit the royal capital someday, so don’t pretend you don’t know me then, okay?”

“Of course. By then, I’ll have mastered all the crochet techniques trending in the capital and teach them to you.”

“Sure. When you’re in the capital, you won’t be as busy as you are now, so you might even get better at it than me.”

“Maybe…”

The lighthearted chatter between the girls lifted the mood in the courtyard slightly.

“Be polite when you’re in the royal capital. Eat well.”

“Take care out there.”

“Stay healthy.”

The staff of Selmane approached next, as though waiting for their turn. The servants she had worked alongside and Simon from the kitchen offered short words of encouragement, their expressions tinged with sadness.

As Shati began frequenting Karel’s room, a series of events unfolded, sweeping the others into the chaos. While they were baffled by Shati’s boldness and occasionally swayed by Randolph’s persuasion, the years they had spent together—close enough to brush against each other’s lives—made the farewell bittersweet.

“Dear.”

“Selma…”

Finally, pushing through her people, Selma approached. As always, she appeared as the innkeeper with her powdered face and bold lipstick, but no one could miss the faint glimmer of moisture in her sharp eyes.

“It’ll be cold while riding, so why does your neck look bare?”

Though her words sounded casual, the woolen shawl in her hand had clearly been prepared in advance. When Selma’s gaze briefly swept over the knights standing in the distance, they awkwardly cleared their throats, embarrassed. They hadn’t thought deeply about how cold it would be during winter rides when packing Shati’s belongings, as it was a routine task for them.

“Be careful not to catch a cold. Wear more clothes if it gets cold. If you’re sick, tell the knights properly.”

“Yes… yes…”

Though her response was timid, there was no helping it. Smiling faintly, Selma threw the woolen shawl over Shati’s head, tying it securely around her neck. Then, suddenly, she stretched out her arms and embraced Shati’s neck.

It was the first time in nearly ten years of working at Selmane that this had happened, and everyone—Shati as well as Selmane’s staff—was shocked. Among the women of Oedel, quite a few wiped their teary eyes at the sight. Everyone knew that Selma, who always acted like a snob, softened when it came to Shati. Her affection for the girl she had taken in, fed, and given work to was well-known in Oedel.

The same was true for Shati. Despite Selma’s cold demeanor, Shati had followed her like an aunt for many long years. Momentarily stiff, Shati’s arms soon followed, wrapping around Selma’s back. Resting her chin on Selma’s shoulder, which was slightly taller than her own, Shati tilted her head upward.

As Selma’s curly hair tickled Shati’s cheek…

“Dear.”

Selma’s voice, calm yet firm, echoed through the emotional embrace. What followed was something Shati had not expected at all.

“If you ever want to go somewhere else, find Jerome’s place on Laplant Street in the royal capital.”

Selma’s words, whispered with her lips pressed against Shati’s neck, were muffled but clear enough for Shati to understand. The deliberate, measured tone left no room for misunderstanding.

“It’s an information guild. If you say you’ve come on Selma’s recommendation from Eldorff, they’ll help you with anything.”

After saying this, Selma pushed Shati’s shoulders slightly, lifting her upper body as if to separate her. Finally meeting Selma’s gaze directly, Shati saw a face clouded with unease, making it difficult to discern her exact feelings behind the words.

Clink.

Unknowingly, Shati felt a weight slide down her neck. Selma had slipped a necklace beneath the shawl while holding her. As Shati touched the shawl’s texture, her fingers traced the outline of what hung beneath it. Her eyes widened endlessly.

This… this is…

‘The ring Selma cherishes.’