[CHAPTER 66]
Intoxicated, he sought her lips, and before they could even talk about it, a gate opened in Drain.
Perhaps he had deliberately avoided it.
That night, he had truly sold his soul to the wine.
He had been so thoroughly drunk, swinging between hosts with dazzling abandon.
He had been just drunk enough to dance sweetly even with the noisy daughter of Marquis Beririch.
But now, looking at Meynaâs face right in front of him, he simply could notâŚ
Turn away.
He could not fool himself into thinking that the kiss that night was merely drunken foolishness.
“You turn me inside out too easily.”
Caliph muttered to himself.
“You scratch me without intention.”
“⌔
Meynaâs saintly, pure eyes trembled with unease.
Her face, so innocent that it seemed she had never harbored malice, troubled him not because it scratched his heart but because her excessive care stirred his feelings.
Gripping the long stem of his wine glass, Caliph took a step closer to Meyna.
Meyna hunched her shoulders as if her neck were being twisted.
And her reaction stirred a cruel duality in Caliph.
The desire to break her and the instinct to protect her.
Through the terrifying chaos, like traveling between the ends of the earth in seconds, the one clear truth remained: Meynaâs lips were beautiful.
Red as pomegranate, delicate, trembling.
Having tasted them once with the aid of alcohol, he craved them even more.
Feeling the intense heat in his lower abdomen, he assessed his own state.
‘Damn idiot.’
Since the day the old man from Banze informed him that Meyna would serve as the new assistant to an X-rank knight, Caliph had often wondered:
What if the new knight she served were a woman? Would he feel the same way?
“You seem drunk.”
Meyna, who said such things knowing he wasnât drunk, had never once been a woman to him.
From the distant day he first saw her to this very moment, Meyna Winslet had been the daughter of the Winslet family, who took him in despite his vagrancy, and a capable assistant supporting him as a knight.
Whether her new knight was male or female, what significance did it matter?
“Go outside.”
Breaking the silence, Caliph spoke in a low, sinking voice, leaving behind the residue of emotions he could not explain.
Meyna nodded, unable to hide her relief.
“Yes.”
She answered as if she had been waiting, yet lingered without leaving.
Caliph felt that even a few steps away, she seemed distant, as if belonging to another world.
The new paladin he had met at the Bonsel Knight Hospital, who had knelt and kissed the back of her handâ
That man, whose every movement was smooth, whose single hair seemed noble, was of a completely different class from him.
He, Meyna, and a lowly swordsman of the Lennox family.
A huge, solid wall separated them.
Yes. Meyna had only stayed by his side briefly, but she could never fully belong to his world.
“Meyna.”
Caliph called her in an unusually calm and quiet voice.
Meynaâs throat seemed blocked; she could only look up at him.
He slowly raised his hand.
Hovering briefly in the air, he gently tapped her shoulder.
“Thank you for all your efforts.”
After giving that brief farewell, he walked lightly toward the kitchen.
“Vabrad.”
“Yes, Sir Lennox. Do you need something?”
The voices followedâCaliph asking where the whiskey sent by some nobleman was, and Vabrad replying he would fetch it.
Meyna, who had lingered for a while, quietly left the dining room.
***
At the monastery behind Lennox Castle.
“Huff⌔
Hot breath escaped through Caliphâs teeth.
By the time he finished two bottles of whiskeyâone brought by Vabrad, one by himselfâit was well past midnight.
The alcohol made his vision dizzy.
When his condition was poor, he became intoxicated faster than usualâtoday was one such day.
“Hmmm.”
Humming a monotone tune, Caliph slumped into a chair in the garden.
Through the massive windows, he could see the interior of the estate.
The servants of Lennox Castle crowded together.
And surrounded among them, Meyna.
Maids of all ages were crying, and even the men could not hide their grim expressions.
“Ha ha. That guy⌔
Meanwhile, Adonis, who rarely showed anger, had firmly shut his mouth, his expression unlike anything Caliph had seen before.
It seemed only he and Korden knew that Meyna would leave.
Caliph knew that everyone in this castle relied on her and cherished her.
No words were heard, yet the feelings were clearer than any sound.
One person: Meynaâs face, turned away from the window, could not be seen.
“What are you doing?”
Glancing back at the sudden presence, he saw Korden walking over with a pipe in his mouth.
Glasses hooked on his shirt, a large book tucked under his arm.
Instead of his usual cigar or snuff, he smoked a traditional pipe. Caliph frowned.
“What is it?”
“What?”
“Why the tobacco?”
“Is it in there?”
Korden, undefeated in habit, plopped into a chair at a distance from Caliph.
Wearing a black linen shirt and matching pants with a summer cardigan, he puffed smoke stiffly into the air.
Caliph frowned again.
“Ah, the smell of smoke.”
The familiar scent of burning leather irritated his nostrils.
Korden, with a brazen calm, seemed almost equipped with a device filtering only Caliphâs voice.
“Why pick up a new habit when you already have one?”
“Is it a problem that I smoke a pipe?”
Korden exhaled with a “huff,” annoyed.
“I was trying to set the mood. Why?”
“What mood?”
“Itâs the night of farewells.”
Caliph reached out toward Korden, who blew smoke toward the sky again.
“Give me one too.”
Korden looked surprised.
“What?”
“Why?”
“Canât I smoke? I want one.”
Korden gave him a weird look, studying him closely.
Despite appearances, Caliph lived a fairly disciplined life.
To exaggerate slightly, he maintained an exercise level comparable to a buffalo roaming the plains or a wild boar in the mountains, 365 days a year. He drank often but rarely lost control publicly.
He didnât even touch tobacco.
“If your lung capacity drops, you run slower and get killed by monsters.”
Setting aside tone, the logic was reasonable.
Yes. From an objective perspective, Caliph worked hard at his duties.
Even if he skipped prayers or scripture study under the protection of the Imperial Church, at least he fulfilled his mission of hunting monsters and protecting citizens.
“I only have this one, so no.”
Korden lightly refused with a frown.
“Do you want to do an ‘indirect kiss’ with me?”
“Are you crazy?”
“Have you ever tasted tobacco?”
“Have you ever tried a potion?”
“Wow. You little brat.”
With extreme disgust, Korden stared him up and down.
Caliph chuckled.
Korden stared at his friend, who did not laugh at all.
“Howâs the lawsuit preparation going?”
Korden brought up the matter of Lord Ouke.
It had been about a week since Caliph had stormed out of the hospital, captured that guy, and locked him in a secret room in the mansion basement.
“I quit.”
Caliphâs eyes briefly went cold.
It was ominous.
He trusted his long-time friendâs instinct.
