Apparently, I’m a Poisonous Woman Who Sells One-Night Dreams, but I Ended Up Awakening a Hero’s Devoted Love - Chapter 1.28

After finishing my story, I leaned my back against the weathered wall of the old shack.

Although Mariadoll had drawn out most of the poison, a faint numbness still lingered in my arm.

Deciding it would be dangerous to hold the reins like this, I chose to spend the night in a shack near where I’d stopped my horse.

It was probably used to store mining tools.

Sitting on the splintered floorboards—covered in what might have been sand, dirt, or small pebbles, something gritty anyway—I told her everything.

It was a story I’d never shared with anyone before. I wasn’t sure if I’d conveyed it well.

“I nearly lost consciousness from the pain, but I could hear voices calling for me from afar. The battle wasn’t over yet. The company commander couldn’t just go missing, so I dragged myself toward the voices, but I blacked out along the way.”

When I came to, I was inside an encampment tent.

Everyone assumed the injury to my leg was from fighting against overwhelming enemy forces.

I hadn’t been limping when we wiped out the enemy, but it’s not uncommon to forget pain during combat and only realize later how badly you were hurt.

“They interpreted it their own way, and without being able to explain the truth, I became a hero.”

Mariadoll, who devotes herself to others, is called a poison woman, while I, who endangered my subordinates out of personal pride and went mad with rage, am called a hero.

What irony.

The broken window frame in the glassless window rattled in the wind.

A slender moon appeared from between the clouds, casting a feeble light that illuminated a spiderweb.

Inside the room were shelves, a small desk, and wooden boxes piled high.

Amid all that clutter, Mariadoll’s silver hair, bathed in the moonlight, shone with an incongruous brilliance.

Plop—I thought I heard a sound.

Her light blue eyes were moist, as if covered by a film of water, and a teardrop traced a path down her cheek.

“May I hug you?”

In that dust- and mold-filled shack, her clear voice rang out.

Before I could process the meaning, something soft and warm enveloped me.

It carried Mariadoll’s sweet scent.

Her smooth hair brushed against my cheek as she held my head and sniffled.

“Thank you for telling me.”

“…I’m no hero. I’m just a selfish bastard who only thinks of himself.”

“That’s not true. At the party, all the knights I saw admired Lord Jerf.”

“That’s just admiration for an idolized hero. I’ve always pretended to be gentle and kept my emotions hidden. I was afraid the real me, the one ruled by rage and brutality would surface.”

A pleasant, mild-mannered, compassionate person. I thought if I played that role, I could keep my true self locked away. Yet I never showed my real feelings, keeping a detached distance from everyone.

“You’re wrong. Lord Jerf is kind. You believed my story without any evidence. You promised to save the commoners. The Lord Jerf I’ve seen until now isn’t a fabrication.”

“You’re overestimating me. In the end, I’m just like my father. Proud, losing myself to rage, hurting people. Back then, I definitely stood amid the blood of many people. And even taking on the role of instructor wasn’t for the knights’ sake. It was out of defiance toward my father. I only accepted it because I didn’t want to follow the same path as him. Losing the use of an arm and leaving the knighthood.”

I took Mariadoll’s arms in both hands and gently separated her from me.

She sat down on the floor with a thump, looking up at me with an innocent face, her brows furrowed in distress.

Isn’t this what they mean by a saint?

She seemed like a sacred presence; one you’d hesitate to touch for fear of sullying.

I spread both my palms open before her.

“These hands are stained with blood. I have vile blood running through me. This bloodline must end with me.”

“…So that’s why you said you didn’t want a family.”

If I took a wife and had children…

I might hurt that child, just as my father hurt me.

No, I definitely would. I carry that cursed blood.

That face of mine reflected in the sword floating in that pool of blood. I don’t want to show that face to my precious family.

Mariadoll gently stroked my palm.

Her slender, fragile-looking fingers danced across my calloused palm as if gliding.

Then she cupped my hand in both of hers and pressed it to her cheek.

As if sharing her warmth, she nuzzled her cheek against my rough hand.

“Lord Jerf’s hands are large and warm. Please don’t misunderstand, Lord Jerf. You and your father are different people. You wielded your sword to protect your subordinates. That’s different from violence meant to hurt and oppress.”

“But these hands are stained with blood.”

“They’re not stained. It’s true you may have taken enemy lives, but in exchange, you saved lives too. If the war had dragged on, many more people would have died. You mustn’t equate violence for protection with violence meant only to harm.”

Releasing one hand, she placed it on my chest and looked straight at me with her light blue eyes.

“Lord Jerf’s heart belongs only to Lord Jerf. It’s no one else’s, and it’s not the same as anyone else’s. I don’t think blood relations matter much. After all, the paintings I create don’t even come close to those of ‘the painter Gilbert.'”

“But they let you see dreams. That’s something you inherited from your mother, right?”

“Yes. But what my mother could show was her deceased child, and my grandmother could convey her feelings to a beloved one she couldn’t reach. Everyone is a little different. Your swordsmanship might come from the Stanley ducal bloodline. But how you use that skill, I believe that’s up to each person. You’re someone who can use the sword to protect people.”

Is that wrong?

Is that really true?

But that face reflected in the sword.

“Please remember the faces of the subordinates you protected. Weren’t they relieved and grateful to you? Imagine the moment they reunited with their families. Surely everyone was overjoyed that they returned alive.”

Once, a subordinate’s family came to see me.

The subordinate, holding his newborn child in his arms, bowed his head in tears.

Thank you for letting me meet my child, he said.

“I’ll say it again. Lord Jerf and your father are different people. You will never become like your father.”

“…Would it be all right for me to have a family?”

“Of course. I’m sure you’ll be a wonderful father.”

“…Would it be all right for me to love someone? Would I be allowed to hold that person?”

“Yes. If such a person appears, by all means—”

Mariadoll’s words broke off there. Because I had embraced her.

“Lord Jerf?”

“I want to stay like this for a while.”

I stroked her silver hair, and she rested her forehead against my chest with a thump. When I gently brushed her hair back, her ears had turned red.

Each time my hand, illuminated by the moonlight, touched Mariadoll, it felt as if I were being purified.