ORHML 68

ORHML

Chapter 68

Normally, I’d heard that after finishing his business, he’d send Joshua away and sleep with her.
Maybe he brought Joshua in just to push her into becoming his concubine and prevent him from taking another.

Otherwise, there’s no way this jealous nine-tailed fox would have ever brought another man into her bed.

“Master, you smell like flowers.”

“That’s because I washed in Sir Francis’s room. It’s freesia.”

“Face this way when you sleep.”

“That’s my choice.”

The arm under my neck belonged to Adrian.
It was uncomfortable to face him directly while lying down, so I turned toward Joshua instead.
The solid arm wrapping around my waist made my whole body tense up — which was a serious problem.

“Fine then… shall I show you what I might do next—”

“Now that I think about it, you do turn over a lot in your sleep, don’t you?”

Fearing what might come next, I turned my body — only to find our faces so close that our lips almost touched.
I almost shot upright in shock, but his arm around my waist kept me from escaping.

“If you kiss me, I’ll throw you out.”

“How stingy.”

Warm breath tickled my back, making me shrink slightly — and Joshua slipped into my arms.

“Whatever scent comes from you, Master, I like them all.”

“Me too. You always smell so—ugh…!”

He had agreed to let me sleep, yet he was holding me so tightly that I thought he’d crush me.
My lips brushed against Adrian’s chest, and for a fleeting moment I considered biting him — but provoking him now would surely mean I wouldn’t be able to get up tomorrow.

“If you’re going to treat Joshua so coldly, why even bring him here? You really are the worst.”

“Think about the condition first. What was the requirement for allowing me to take a concubine?”

“Forget it. Just let go of my waist. I can’t sleep — it hurts.”

He sighed in irritation but finally released me.

And just like that, I drifted off to sleep.

[ Quest Complete! — The Canary That Couldn’t Cry I ]

As a reward for completing the quest, a fragment of memory will be shown to you in a dream.

It was only then that I realized all the dreams I’d been having were playing out like this.

In the dream—or memory—I was reading a letter.

It’s the first time I’ve hated going to the battlefield.
Just thinking of you waiting for me makes me afraid of dying for the first time.

Honestly, I’ve had bad thoughts before. If I died building my honor for your sake, maybe you’d at least remember me.

Someday, I hoped you might think about how someone like me went to war and died because he loved you.

I miss you, my Gracie. Thank you for letting me draw you in my heart.

— Your Ray.

Even knowing it was a dream, the letter’s opening gripped me, and I couldn’t help but read on.

Time shifted, and another letter appeared—same handwriting.

It’s terrible — I wanted to send a letter to you before sending one to His Majesty.
The messenger birds are well trained, but only a few can actually be sent out.
The ones for His Majesty just carry words like: victory, defeat, advance, retreat. So cold and formal.
But when I write to you, it melts something frozen inside me. Maybe that’s why I write so many. Sorry.

I write every day, but since I can only send them rarely, I send them in bundles.
You might not even read them, might throw them away… but that’s fine.

I miss you, Gracie.
— Your Ray.

Clayton had once mentioned that we used to call each other Ray.
It was strange — almost embarrassing — that we really used such names.
But hearing him write “Your Ray” so easily made my heart thump uncontrollably.

You must’ve heard from His Majesty — we won again.

Funny thing — I realized every time I brought victory news, His Majesty would gift me a falcon.
Maybe he, too, imagines a place beside you that could belong to me.
That thought alone kept me awake all night.

It was clear he’d rewritten the letter multiple times — traces of erased words and covered ink showed his hesitation.
Imagining how long he’d agonized over every sentence made my chest tighten.

We march again tomorrow. I know I should sleep, but I can’t stop thinking about you, so here I am with my pen again.
I woke up at dawn, wrote another, and somehow ended up writing again because I missed you.
You once said that if I became useful, you’d let me stay by your side.
So… am I useful now? Would it be shameless to ask after only a few victories?
Still, I hope you’ll consider this one a hard-earned win.
Not forcing you, of course. Just saying.
— Your Ray.

The next letter was written in a rushed, uneven scrawl.

I heard a rumor that I’d been killed in battle — it’s a lie!
I’m alive! The “death” was part of an operation. I only pretended to die!
— Your Ray.

Are you not replying because you’re angry?
The report of my “death” was for tactical reasons… I didn’t know it would reach you.
I’m really sorry.
Were you worried? Just thinking you might have been tears me apart.
It’s awful of me, but imagining you worrying about me… it makes me breathlessly happy.
Even if you weren’t worried, that’s okay. I still miss you — so much.
— Your Ray, thrilled yet anxious, wondering if you’re angry.

They say I was burned alive this time — that’s a lie too!
I didn’t know I had such resistance to flames. I really almost died, though.
But do you know who came to my mind when the fire surrounded me?
You, Gracie.
I thought — if my black hair that you loved burns away, how will I face you again?
I wish you’d scold me for being foolish. I miss your voice when you used to scold and worry at once.
— Your Ray, imagining your voice.

Are you not sending word from the capital because you don’t want me to worry?
Or are my birds so stupid that they lost your letters?
Even if that’s true… well, I suppose I can’t prove it either way.
As long as my letters reach you, that’s enough.
— Your Ray, sleepless with worry.

I could almost see Clayton pacing restlessly, panicking over each letter.
He was exactly the kind of man to spend an entire day fretting over whether she’d replied.
I wished Princess Gracie had at least written him once.

You’ve probably heard from His Majesty that another victory came — it’s no longer special news now.
It’s fully winter here. I remembered the snow duck you made for me once and tried making one too.
As you said, I really have no talent for crafting. My adjutant asked if I’d been dabbling in curse magic.
That made me miss you more. There’s nothing here I don’t see through thoughts of you.
Even in this filthy warzone, thinking of you feels both strange and comforting.
I miss you, Gracie. So much.
— Your Ray, missing you so badly it hurts.

There won’t be many victory reports for a while — we’re heading home now.
We’ve taken the surrender, and the enemy king’s head hangs from a pike.
When we return, His Majesty will surely ask me what I desire as a reward.
I want to ask for you — to marry you.
But if you refuse… I’ll understand.
It would just be one more of the countless rejections you’ve already given me.
And even if I face a thousand refusals, just one yes from you someday would make them all worth nothing.
— Your Ray, thinking of you as the snow falls.

I remembered the way he’d once looked so downcast yet tried to pretend he wasn’t.
Maybe it started back then.
The memory made my chest ache, heavy and stifling.

There’s a problem with the return gate — we’ll be delayed a bit.
Strange, isn’t it? I never felt impatient wandering far from home, but now that I’m close to seeing you, every distance feels unbearable.
If I could spend all my earned merits just to bring that day closer, would you call me a fool again?

It was funny that the words “fool” and “idiot” had become so familiar back then.
Maybe that’s why now, instead of insults, they felt almost… affectionate.
Realizing that made my eyes sting.

I want to hear it again — the voice that calls me fool, the voice that gets angry at me for being an idiot.

Ah! And I’m still wearing the chastity belt properly! Never once took it off!
I swear on the name of the Goddess — I never once invited a woman to my tent like the others!
I can swear an unbreakable oath!
You might not care, but… just in case!
— Your chaste Ray.

It seemed she never once replied.
I, who had been reading the pile of letters from the box, looked into a mirror and found myself crying — wearing a face so twisted and monstrous that I’d almost gotten used to it.

When I woke from the dream, I let out a dry laugh.

That idiot Clayton — he never got tired of pouring his heart out like this.
It made me both embarrassed and strangely pained.

It was an emotion I couldn’t quite justify, and yet… it felt so vividly mine — like a heavy, foreign heart pounding in my own chest.

The day of the Victory Commemoration Ceremony finally came.

The palace was bustling since morning. Adrian, apparently determined to attend with me, had brought his own attendants — mixing them with mine and creating total chaos.

“Is Joshua not coming with us?”

“I could bring him if I wanted to. But…”

“I’m fine, Master.”

Seeing that fake smile made me feel guilty for asking so carelessly.
From Joshua’s perspective, both Enshellos and Dayrid were nothing but sources of regret.