Chapter 33
Richard returned with bruises. When he came back to the underground prison, he tried to hide the marks and avoided showing me his face directly.
But there was no way I couldn’t notice them, even from just a few steps away.
Why was that? After Kyle left, there shouldn’t have been anyone to order Richard’s torture. Could it have been the guards acting on their own?
Even thinking that made my blood boil. He was already someone precious to me.
“Just wait until Kyle comes back. I’ll stir things up and kick him out of the prison,” I thought, scowling as I endured the irritating reality.
The evening seemed to pass slower than usual, and only when night finally came did I cross over to his cell. I glared at Richard, who was standing before me with sharp eyes.
The disinfectant I used last time had long run out. Even searching the room, there wasn’t anything suitable for treating his bruises.
It didn’t seem as severe as when he was first imprisoned in Fortress, but I couldn’t ignore the bruises.
Although I enjoyed certain privileges in prison, medicine wasn’t one of them.
“Is the only thing usable a clean cloth?”
I frowned as I held the plain cloth I’d managed to find.
I wished I had some kind of ointment. All I could do was soak the cloth in cold water and use it as a compress.
If I didn’t take care of him, it seemed the guards wouldn’t either.
So, having crossed over into Richard’s cell, I was trying to remove his clothes on my own. He stiffened like a log and held onto the front of his clothes, refusing to let go.
This meant the cold compress hadn’t even started yet because of the struggle we’d just had.
“Why won’t you let me take it off? I treated you before.”
“It’ll look unsightly.”
“It won’t! Just how bad is it that you’re hiding it from me?”
“It’s not bad enough to worry about.”
“Then it won’t be unsightly either. Let go of my hand.”
Seeing my stern expression, Richard muttered sullenly.
“I want to show you only a strong and admirable side. Veronica doesn’t mind any side, but I…”
Richard couldn’t finish his sentence and avoided eye contact.
“I always want to be a strong knight. I don’t want to disappoint you by showing weakness.”
“People can’t always be strong. And haven’t you already shown me a lot of sides?”
“Just forget the bad memories…”
It seemed he had moments that came to mind. Perhaps it was the difference between before and after dating, but he had become very conscious of my gaze.
Would it be disappointing if longtime lovers became too accustomed to each other?
“Whatever side of Richard there is, it’s endearing to me, so let go and show me the injured part now.”
“…The lovable one is Veronica.”
“Ah, come on! Are you always going to tease me like this?”
I laughed and tapped his chest, eliciting a short groan. Seeing him react to such a simple gesture, I decided to continue the cold compress no matter what excuses he made.
“If you don’t show me how badly you’re hurt, I’ll have to wait here.”
“Wait for what?”
“I’ll wait until you fall asleep to treat you.”
Stubbornly insisting on such nonsense. Knowing I had to return before the guards’ patrol, Richard had no choice but to yield.
“Hand me a wet cloth, and I’ll apply the compress.”
“Front is fine, but the back? You can’t reach it anyway.”
“Then just the back, and I’ll handle the rest…”
“It’s better if I do it. I’m repaying the care you gave me when I was sick because of Belladonna. No refusal allowed.”
“Understood. But don’t look too closely. It’ll be unsightly.”
Richard resignedly released his grip on his collar. I began to worry just how badly he had been tortured that he didn’t want to show it.
As I unbuttoned his prison uniform, Richard covered his face with his large hand, embarrassed to reveal his skin. I felt my own face flush at his self-conscious reaction.
Examining his upper body carefully, fortunately, there were no broken bones or swelling. Bruises from fights with other prisoners had yellowed, and new bruises were bluish, creating a mottled pattern, but it was less worrying than I had imagined.
Pretending not to mind, I applied the cold, wet cloth to the bruised areas.
“You still look great.”
Richard turned to look at me. Our eyes met, and his pupils slightly trembled.
Hoping my sincerity reached him, I repeated:
“Even with bruises and injuries, you’re always a reliable knight to me. The kind and wonderful knight who gave bread at the fountain. So don’t hide anything from me.”
Seeing injuries that clearly didn’t exist before entering Fortress made me feel conflicted.
Days like this would continue as long as he remained in Fortress Prison. We had to escape quickly, but inevitably, he would get hurt during the process.
So I couldn’t hold back from saying this:
“Veronica…”
Richard looked down at me with trembling eyes and couldn’t continue.
“Richard, look at me.”
His gaze returned to me. Such a self-doubting, vulnerable expression wasn’t his usual look. Was it because he was imprisoned or because of me?
I gently cupped his cheek with my hand. This mischievous man rested his face in my palm.
A smile naturally formed on my lips. His innocent expression, as if not understanding, was such an unconscious charm.
Pressing both his cheeks gently, his lips pursed.
“Are you cold? The cold compress should have reduced the pain.”
As Richard nodded, my hand moved up and down along with it. I was here to treat him, not indulge myself, as cute as he was.
“Stay still, or the cloth will slip off.”
While replacing the wet cloth, I tried not to stare, though his well-defined muscles caught my attention. He had a form more elastic and captivating than a sculpture in a gallery.
But if I complimented him, this shy lover might refuse treatment and hide under the covers, so I looked away.
As I tried to avert my gaze from his upper body, a black mark near his waist caught my attention.
It was a dark symbol etched into his skin. I’d heard of sailors or illegal organizations marking their bodies, but was this something like that?
As I leaned in to get a closer look, Richard covered the area completely with his clothing.
“Uh? The cloth is getting wet…”
“The cold compress is enough for now.”
His tone suddenly became stiff. Was it something I shouldn’t see? The location suggested it wasn’t a tattoo meant to show off.
“The cloth is still on, but I’m putting my clothes back on.”
“I’ll remove it myself. The guards might come, so you should go now.”
Richard took the wet cloth from my hand and turned my body toward the iron door. Leaving abruptly was sudden, but the purpose of the cold compress had been fulfilled…
However, his unnatural behavior raised my suspicions.
“I caught a glimpse, but it was a symbol of the church.”
Did he carve a symbol of his faith? Having grown up in a temple, it was possible.
But as a (former) saint candidate, I was sure of one thing: the church never marked a person like livestock.
According to scripture, markings on humans were considered negative.
“What are you thinking so seriously about?”
Perhaps because I had obediently moved to the iron door, Richard paused and looked at me curiously.
“Nothing much.”
Looking up at him from behind, I wondered, How much do I really know about this man?
I recalled other people who marked their bodies for various purposes. Specifically, I’d heard in the back-alley market about witches who inscribe spells on their bodies to perform dark magic.
“Just a ridiculous thought popped into my head.”
Richard returned with bruises. When he came back to the underground prison, he tried to hide the marks and avoided showing me his face directly.
But there was no way I couldn’t notice them, even from just a few steps away.
Why was that? After Kyle left, there shouldn’t have been anyone to order Richard’s torture. Could it have been the guards acting on their own?
Even thinking that made my blood boil. He was already someone precious to me.
“Just wait until Kyle comes back. I’ll stir things up and kick him out of the prison,” I thought, scowling as I endured the irritating reality.
The evening seemed to pass slower than usual, and only when night finally came did I cross over to his cell. I glared at Richard, who was standing before me with sharp eyes.
The disinfectant I used last time had long run out. Even searching the room, there wasn’t anything suitable for treating his bruises.
It didn’t seem as severe as when he was first imprisoned in Fortress, but I couldn’t ignore the bruises.
Although I enjoyed certain privileges in prison, medicine wasn’t one of them.
“Is the only thing usable a clean cloth?”
I frowned as I held the plain cloth I’d managed to find.
I wished I had some kind of ointment. All I could do was soak the cloth in cold water and use it as a compress.
If I didn’t take care of him, it seemed the guards wouldn’t either.
So, having crossed over into Richard’s cell, I was trying to remove his clothes on my own. He stiffened like a log and held onto the front of his clothes, refusing to let go.
This meant the cold compress hadn’t even started yet because of the struggle we’d just had.
“Why won’t you let me take it off? I treated you before.”
“It’ll look unsightly.”
“It won’t! Just how bad is it that you’re hiding it from me?”
“It’s not bad enough to worry about.”
“Then it won’t be unsightly either. Let go of my hand.”
Seeing my stern expression, Richard muttered sullenly.
“I want to show you only a strong and admirable side. Veronica doesn’t mind any side, but I…”
Richard couldn’t finish his sentence and avoided eye contact.
“I always want to be a strong knight. I don’t want to disappoint you by showing weakness.”
“People can’t always be strong. And haven’t you already shown me a lot of sides?”
“Just forget the bad memories…”
It seemed he had moments that came to mind. Perhaps it was the difference between before and after dating, but he had become very conscious of my gaze.
Would it be disappointing if longtime lovers became too accustomed to each other?
“Whatever side of Richard there is, it’s endearing to me, so let go and show me the injured part now.”
“…The lovable one is Veronica.”
“Ah, come on! Are you always going to tease me like this?”
I laughed and tapped his chest, eliciting a short groan. Seeing him react to such a simple gesture, I decided to continue the cold compress no matter what excuses he made.
“If you don’t show me how badly you’re hurt, I’ll have to wait here.”
“Wait for what?”
“I’ll wait until you fall asleep to treat you.”
Stubbornly insisting on such nonsense. Knowing I had to return before the guards’ patrol, Richard had no choice but to yield.
“Hand me a wet cloth, and I’ll apply the compress.”
“Front is fine, but the back? You can’t reach it anyway.”
“Then just the back, and I’ll handle the rest…”
“It’s better if I do it. I’m repaying the care you gave me when I was sick because of Belladonna. No refusal allowed.”
“Understood. But don’t look too closely. It’ll be unsightly.”
Richard resignedly released his grip on his collar. I began to worry just how badly he had been tortured that he didn’t want to show it.
As I unbuttoned his prison uniform, Richard covered his face with his large hand, embarrassed to reveal his skin. I felt my own face flush at his self-conscious reaction.
Examining his upper body carefully, fortunately, there were no broken bones or swelling. Bruises from fights with other prisoners had yellowed, and new bruises were bluish, creating a mottled pattern, but it was less worrying than I had imagined.
Pretending not to mind, I applied the cold, wet cloth to the bruised areas.
“You still look great.”
Richard turned to look at me. Our eyes met, and his pupils slightly trembled.
Hoping my sincerity reached him, I repeated:
“Even with bruises and injuries, you’re always a reliable knight to me. The kind and wonderful knight who gave bread at the fountain. So don’t hide anything from me.”
Seeing injuries that clearly didn’t exist before entering Fortress made me feel conflicted.
Days like this would continue as long as he remained in Fortress Prison. We had to escape quickly, but inevitably, he would get hurt during the process.
So I couldn’t hold back from saying this:
“Veronica…”
Richard looked down at me with trembling eyes and couldn’t continue.
“Richard, look at me.”
His gaze returned to me. Such a self-doubting, vulnerable expression wasn’t his usual look. Was it because he was imprisoned or because of me?
I gently cupped his cheek with my hand. This mischievous man rested his face in my palm.
A smile naturally formed on my lips. His innocent expression, as if not understanding, was such an unconscious charm.
Pressing both his cheeks gently, his lips pursed.
“Are you cold? The cold compress should have reduced the pain.”
As Richard nodded, my hand moved up and down along with it. I was here to treat him, not indulge myself, as cute as he was.
“Stay still, or the cloth will slip off.”
While replacing the wet cloth, I tried not to stare, though his well-defined muscles caught my attention. He had a form more elastic and captivating than a sculpture in a gallery.
But if I complimented him, this shy lover might refuse treatment and hide under the covers, so I looked away.
As I tried to avert my gaze from his upper body, a black mark near his waist caught my attention.
It was a dark symbol etched into his skin. I’d heard of sailors or illegal organizations marking their bodies, but was this something like that?
As I leaned in to get a closer look, Richard covered the area completely with his clothing.
“Uh? The cloth is getting wet…”
“The cold compress is enough for now.”
His tone suddenly became stiff. Was it something I shouldn’t see? The location suggested it wasn’t a tattoo meant to show off.
“The cloth is still on, but I’m putting my clothes back on.”
“I’ll remove it myself. The guards might come, so you should go now.”
Richard took the wet cloth from my hand and turned my body toward the iron door. Leaving abruptly was sudden, but the purpose of the cold compress had been fulfilled…
However, his unnatural behavior raised my suspicions.
“I caught a glimpse, but it was a symbol of the church.”
Did he carve a symbol of his faith? Having grown up in a temple, it was possible.
But as a (former) saint candidate, I was sure of one thing: the church never marked a person like livestock.
According to scripture, markings on humans were considered negative.
“What are you thinking so seriously about?”
Perhaps because I had obediently moved to the iron door, Richard paused and looked at me curiously.
“Nothing much.”
Looking up at him from behind, I wondered, How much do I really know about this man?
I recalled other people who marked their bodies for various purposes. Specifically, I’d heard in the back-alley market about witches who inscribe spells on their bodies to perform dark magic.
“Just a ridiculous thought popped into my head.”
