Misfortune 42

Chapter 42

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Roan was about to call her back.

For a while, he diligently went outside to clear his head. He even stayed up all night playing cards, which was nothing more than a boring game, and it seemed like he could always find a way to calm his nerves by recalling the boredom of the day.

Nevertheless, just in case, he deliberately exerted himself in the sun, just to be on the safe side. The sweat washed away the sentiment that it was ridiculous that he was doing this for a slave.

She mustn't be completely broken yet.

That single thought convinced him to continue on his journey, uprooting the thoughts that had sprung up from nowhere.

After all that preparation, here she was again, his one and only slave, who hadn't even bothered to greet him.

"...."

She was quiet and demure, almost unbelievable for a woman who pretended to do things she wasn't asked to do. He wondered if she was even breathing.

"Why don't you just play nice and be a doll.”

Apparently, his slave intended to do as he said. He wasn't sure when she'd ever listened so well.

"I'm going to bathe, so get ready."

Roan swallowed back his sarcasm and gave the order in a flat voice.

He was annoyed at the woman's unwillingness to budge, but didn't feel like pointing it out.

It hadn't been that long ago that he'd pushed her so hard, and for the time being, he needed to play the gracious master.

He turned away, not realizing how carefully he was orchestrating his distance from her.

Delnia nodded at the man who was acting as if nothing had happened, then headed for the bathroom.

The sleek marble tub was already filled with water. The butler must have prepared it before he left.

Delnia dipped her fingertips into the tub to check the temperature. Despite the material's ability to retain heat, the water was cold, as if it had been sitting for a long time.

She wiped her hands dry on her apron and filled the kettle next to the tub with water, then walked over to the fireplace on one side of the bathroom, stoked the fire, and heated the water.

After adding the boiled water to the tub, she checked the water temperature again. As she was contemplating whether to boil the water one more time, the bathroom door flew open.

"What the hell?"

Roan grimaced at the fumes that hit him as soon as he opened the door.

He looked around the bathroom for the source and chuckled when he spotted the fireplace, which was still burning.

"I wondered why it was so hot."

Delnia, who had gotten to her feet, explained in a calm voice.

"I needed to heat up some cold water."

Roan stared down at the woman, her expression still unchanged. It wasn't that it was cold, but that it was just the right temperature.

A hot bath in such sweltering weather?

Her tone was one of nonchalance, as if it were a matter of course, even if it was torture for her. It was here that he realized she had yet to fully shed her noble bearing.

"No need, I bathe in cold water in the summer."

Unbeknownst to him, Delnia didn't show embarrassment this time, merely bowing her head in compliance and walking back to the fireplace.

She rummaged through the ashes with a poker and distinguished the embers. The faint wisps of smoke soon dispersed into the air.

She would not be deterred by his words now. She would remain as colorless as these burnt ashes.

With that, she put down the poker and straightened.

The moment she turned her back, her resolve was shattered.

"What...............!"

Roan, who had been leisurely peeling off his top, didn't quite understand the shriek of horror for a moment before he let out a blood-curdling laugh.

This was the same woman who couldn't look him in the eye because a few buttons on his shirt were undone.

“It's too hot."

He said nonchalantly, letting his shirt fall to the floor.

It was too late, but she couldn't afford to show more agitation here. Delnia swallowed hard at her embarrassment and instead of looking away, she deliberately held herself together.

Her squinting eyes caught something and began to flutter, the corners of her eyes drooping downward.

She blinked away the dazedness and opened her mouth.

"That's......."

Roan, puzzled by Delnia's sudden change in demeanor, followed her gaze and flicked a glance at his left shoulder.

A ragged scar he never noticed before caught the corner of his eye.

"Oh, this."

Roan shrugged, having only just realized the scar across his left shoulder. As if it was nothing to fuss over.

Delnia, however, could not help but be alarmed.

The scar running down his back was horribly red.

And it wasn't just one scar.

The deep, sharp marks on his skin were like clues. They were clues to the process of how it happened.

"Is this how the Navy punishes sailors?"

Delnia asked, trying to keep her voice calm, only to have Roan retort as if he had been defamed.

"Of course not. It's pirates, not the navy."

"Pirates, what................?"

Delnia's voice began to shake slightly at the unexpected response.

Roan, who had simply dismissed the faint-hearted woman's reaction to the ghastly wound as one of surprise, spoke up in his usual deep tone.

"I was captured by pirates before I joined the Navy. They'd whip you for the slightest misbehavior."

The casualness with which he spoke stabbed Delnia in the heart like a weapon, and it was only a matter of time before the composure she had worked so hard to maintain crumbled.

It didn't take much thought to realize that the life of a boy cast out of the castle as a vassal had never been easy.

But a pirate?

Her eyes, which had been wavering since she'd seen his scarred back, now fluttered uncontrollably.

No, it wasn't just his back. His shoulders and forearms. Chest and sides. Everywhere she looked, she could see old scars. When he was clothed, his body was sculpted and beautiful. But underneath, his flesh was covered in scars, not a single inch of it intact.

But it was Roan's casual recounting of such a horrific tale that disturbed Delnia most of all.

The nonchalant manner in which he wore his tattered body as a badge of honor gave her a glimpse into a life that must have been devastating.

Roan's life, piled high with scars, drained Delnia's breath away.

That body was her fault, her sin. If she hadn't run away then, if she hadn't................

"What?”

At that moment, Roan snapped her out of her reverie, his voice sounding vastly different from before.

Stunned, Delnia stumbled back, but she didn't get more than a few steps before she was stopped by a wall.

Her hazel eyes, which until then had refused to leave the scars, finally met Roan's.

His brow furrowed, and his eyes narrowed. Delnia realized that tears had welled up in her eyes without her realizing it.

"Why are your eyes like that?"

His unrefined voice mingled with his ragged breathing, piercing the air with ferocity.

She had been so indifferent until he mentioned the scars. His scarred body was nothing new.

They were old enough that he hadn't even noticed them. He'd forgotten how he'd gotten them.

It was something insignificant.

The moment he noticed the tears in her eyes, a pang of pain washed over him, as if his whole body had been torn apart.

A long-open wound reopened, bleeding and oozing pus. It was all her doing.

"Why would you do that!"

Roan, overcome by an unfamiliar pain, grabbed Delnia's arms roughly.

The woman gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut at the unexpected touch.

The uncontrolled force should have been painful, but she didn't moan. Her slender throat constricted as she tried to swallow the sound.

But to Roan, she was an abomination.

He thought the fine-bred noblewoman was merely disgusted by his ugly body. It was a natural reaction for a young woman of her age to be horrified.

But as if to mock him for trying to dismiss it as it was nothing, she never took her eyes off the ghastly scars.

And the tears in her eyes, as red as the wound itself, and the clear emotion that came with them, sank him into the abyss.

Who was it that caused all this in the first place?

Who was it that drove him to such a point?

He couldn't help but find it abominable that the woman who had lived well was now feeling guilty.

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