The Amber Knight Swears His Love on the Saintess’s Left Hand - Chapter 20

Marius crashed back-first into the table before groggily pushing himself up. A follow-up strike came immediately. Once again, Marius was sent flying, this time colliding violently with the wall.

“What is the meaning of this, Lord Claussen?”

Hearing Quill’s voice, thick with rage, Lynette looked up.

More than his black hair or his amber eyes with their deep red hue, it was the jagged gash across his back that caught her eye.

“Lord Quill.”

Quill looked far more wounded than the Marius he had just sent sprawling. He must have come straight from the Black Wolf extermination. Indeed, he was splattered with the fluids of magical beasts, dark-red stains clinging to him everywhere. The distinct, animalistic musk was pungent. Lynette finally understood why he was so hesitant to return straight to the manor in such a state.

Quill didn’t seem to hear her call. He grabbed Marius who was slumped against the wall, eyes rolling by the collar and hauled him up.

“Answer me, Marius Claussen. Why is she injured?”

“You bastard… shackling her with that Pledge Lock…”

“The Lock?”

Quill’s gaze shifted to Lynette. She shook her right hand, causing the Pledge Lock she had been shielding to jingle. It wasn’t broken. She meant it as a report: I protected it.

Quill’s expression grew grimmer than she had ever seen.

“She is the only one permitted to break that.”

“She only hesitated out of respect for you! That is why I shall cut it for her. I am the one who will set the Saint free!”

“…Set her free?”

Quill’s fist began to be wreathed in shimmering, grain-like particles of light.

“Ice?”

Fine particles of ice sparkled, catching the sunlight streaming through the window.

“No magic! Lord Quill! Listen to me!”

“As if a fool who spouts grand delusions of ‘freeing’ her…”

This is bad.

Lynette leaped off the bed. But—

“…could ever be worthy of calling her by her name! You absolute moron!”

Her attempt to stop him fell short.

Quill’s right fist buried itself perfectly into Marius’s cheek.

Marius’s eyes rolled back as he sprawled out on the floor.

Lynette hurried over to roll him over and check his face. Since he seemed to be a man who took great pride in his appearance, she worried that if he were scarred, he might vow to chase Quill to the ends of the earth.

Perhaps he was sturdier than he looked, or perhaps he had shielded himself with magic; there was no significant damage to the face famous for its beauty.

Deciding that Marius could be left alone for the time being, she turned her attention to her fiancé. The one who truly needed medical care.

“Lord Quill.”

Her voice finally seemed to reach his ears.

He turned back to her, his face looking somewhat like a large dog waiting to be scolded.

Quill reached out to wrap his hands around her right hand as if to protect the scratch, but he pulled back immediately as if repelled.

The single thin line Marius’s blade had drawn on Lynette was marked by a stroke of red, as if painted by a brush.

But Quill’s own hands were far more covered in wounds than hers.

—In such a state, he rushed here for me.

She stared at the back of her hand, where their blood seemed to have touched. Then, Quill bowed his head deeply.

“I am so sorry. I thought you would be safe since the magical beasts wouldn’t target you, so I left you alone.”

“But you assigned Nicola to me, did you not?”

“Nicola is excellent, but that only applies within the townhouse.”

“Don’t say that. It was surely she who told you where this place was, right?”

The sight of the formidable Quill nodding sheepishly was somehow adorable, despite him being such an impressive man.

That sensation, the “adorable” feeling that was only supposed to last for a count of three warmed her chest softly.

What is this? Lynette wondered, pressing a hand to her chest where a faint heat now resided.

Something was wrong.

Her heart was racing. The count of three had long since passed.

Was it because so many things had happened at once? Even so, her shifting emotions were supposed to fade away one by one.

She looked down at the stinging sensation on her right hand.

The wound wasn’t vanishing. When she had tested her condition shortly after arriving at the Langbart estate, the wound had been deeper. A mere scratch like this should have disappeared by now.

—Why does it hurt so much?

Pain, ticklishness…

The things Quill had told Nicola were completely off the mark. To Lynette, such things were only vague shadows of sensations. Her heart had stopped picking up the various reactions of her body.

If so…

—Why did I think it was so ticklish back then?

After the exhibition match. When Quill’s fingers had brushed against her skin, the sensation had been so unbearable she had cried out.

That was it.

Even then, the change had already begun.

The confusion wouldn’t untangle; it clung to her heart.

Gradually, her fingertips began to tremble, and the sensation spread through her entire body.

She knew this feeling. It was something she had discarded during her pilgrimage.

The lingering resonance of fear.

To hide the unstoppable shaking, she hugged herself lightly.

Quill’s hand reached out. His fingers gathered Lynette’s disheveled hair and brushed it back behind her shoulder.

“I’m just glad you’re safe.”

With his left hand, the one with fewer injuries he stroked her head. His fingers brushed against her wound. Finally, his hand came to rest against her cheek.

At the protective warmth of it, something inside Lynette erupted.

“Ah…”

Tears welled up. The feeling of “warmth” that usually lasted three seconds… it started to fade, but then something new bubbled up from deep within.

Quill was safe. He was here, despite clearly being heavily injured.

Breathing heavily, covered in fluids and blood, smelling terrible…

All to protect Lynette.

“Lord… Qu… ill…”

The scent suddenly grew stronger.

No! She had thrown herself into his chest.

Something that hadn’t moved for a long time was suddenly jolting into motion. Belated terror, relief… invited by the warmth of his hand and the steady thump-thump of his heart.

“Are you in pain somewhere?”

She found his misplaced concern adorable. Lynette’s exhaled breath trembled with joy.

“Lady Ceryes… um, I am incredibly dirty right now, so…”

His bewildered voice was kind to her ears. That was right! Not once had this man called her “Saint.” Noticing that now of all times, her tears wouldn’t stop.

“Lord Quill.”

She looked up at his face. Because of the tears, his expression looked distorted. She brushed the tears away with her fingertips and locked eyes with him again.

—What a beautiful person.

Amber eyes harboring a deep crimson. A refined, sun-kissed face. Sleek, black hair without a stray lock.

Because he felt so inferior due to his Betzyraft features, Quill didn’t realize it. He didn’t know how high his looks ranked. He didn’t know that the marriage proposals sent to him weren’t all just out of curiosity.

Lynette felt a deep, soul-felt gratitude that he had reached the age of twenty-five without taking anyone else’s hand.

Quill’s brow furrowed slightly, and confusion spread across his face. Lynette herself didn’t understand what was happening inside her.

But they were sharing the same confusion. Right now, in this moment.

“I’m so happy you came.”

The corners of her mouth lifted naturally. Is smiling this easy?

“I am happy, Lord Quill.”

She found the sound of his name pleasant. She wanted to say it again and again. Every time she did, it felt as though her heart was breathing again.

“Lord Quill.”

Repeatedly, over and over. The more she called him, the happier she became, while Quill’s face grew redder and redder.

“Do you have a fever? That’s right, you have that terrible injury on your back—”

“No, I think it’s probably unrelated to the trauma. More importantly, Lady Ceryes, your f-face… what is this…?”

His words were becoming unsteady. She hurriedly placed both hands on his cheeks.

“Are you alright!?”

“I… might not be… alright.”

“Someone, call for help! Where even are we!?”

“Ah, Lady Ceryes. You really are…”

Leaving behind the cryptic words, “…purely an organic type, aren’t you?” Quill collapsed.