Amidst fitful breaths, Arkell stared unblinkingly into Lizzy Alheim's face.
A faint moan escaped his lips, as if the pain had taken his voice away from him against his will.
As for Lizzie, she just stared at him silently.
“…Miss Saint.”
“……”
“Aren’t you going to help me?”
But she did not move, but remained still as if she did not hear anything.
'Did I ask for the unbearable?'
Arkell smiled bitterly inwardly as he looked at her.
The Family of Merciful Saints...Beit Eliheim.
Ever since he first heard that name, he had only seen it as a mockery.
In his view, giving is nothing but another face of selfishness, as a person does good to satisfy himself before others.
So when he saw Lizzy a while ago pardoning the servants on the farm... he didn't understand it.
'I don't understand...'
Perhaps that is what made him more surprised by her.
However, he was certain that even Lizzie, despite everything she was doing, would not rise to the point of extending a helping hand to her kidnapper and enemy.
'If you don't make fun of this scene, that's enough for me.'
He knew that holy power could not be forcibly summoned.
There is no other way but for her owner to release her of her own free will.
'Should I press her more?'
He didn't want to resort to the rough method, but his body was disintegrating under the weight of the pain that burned more with every breath.
His eyebrows furrowed as he swallowed his saliva with difficulty, while his head was about to explode.
Despite his certainty that it was impossible to force her, he extended his hand towards her, as if searching for the last thread linking him to life.
He didn't know what he would do after he caught her, but he felt that she was his last resort.
'Just a little...to be closer...'
As soon as he was about to touch her shiny wrist, he felt a warmth engulfing his cheek.
It's her hand... She put her palm on his cheek.
Arkell froze, staring at her silently; This is the mercy I expect from the saint.
“……”
“Has the pain lessened?”
She asked him, looking at him with a worried face.
It was said that the touch of her hand alone could erase the pain...
“...I'm not sure.”
He muttered after hesitation, his eyebrows furrowing.
“I don’t feel anything... Maybe your strength doesn’t work for me. Or maybe...”
His gaze seemed blurry as he stared into her eyes, then his lips moved in a low, broken voice:
“Touch alone may not be enough.”
❖ ❖ ❖
I watched kicking in silence.
'How do I realize that? True... touch alone is not enough.'
Lizzy Alheim was known for her amazing ability to heal with just touch.
But the truth is that this power has a hidden condition...
It only works if a sincere feeling of respect for those he touches emerges from the patient's heart.
Lizzie achieved this easily, as her life was a series of acts of kindness and giving, and then everyone surrounded her with genuine appreciation, and healing came automatically.
But the world did not know this truth, so a rumor spread that it healed with just the touch of a hand.
In fact, this truth was not revealed to the public until after her death, when Jean Alheim shouted in the face of his opponents:
“The power of the saint cannot be of any use to you! You do not know mercy and do not have any appreciation in your hearts!”
But... could such a feeling come from Arkle?
That man who believes in nothing, trusts no one, and desires nothing...!
Unlike the ambitious Martha or the recognition-hungry Naran, Arkell demanded nothing from life.
Even this powerful force that was devouring him now was not of his will.
How can an emptiness like this give birth to sincerity?
'That's why I couldn't promise him a recovery right away…'
I extended my hand to his cheek, hoping that the touch would arouse strength, but it seemed that the condition was not met, and nothing emerged.
‘If he finds out that I am useless to him… I will be erased.’
My heart trembled, then I heard his moans echoing again.
"Yes…."
He gritted his teeth harshly, his face drenched in cold sweat.
'...Hey.'
A fleeting thought lit up my mind.
‘If healing requires sincerity of feeling, why should it only be respect? Isn't honesty coming from other feelings too?'
Sincerity is not limited to nobility and beauty.
There is a more powerful sincerity...which comes from pain.
Now, I am immersed in the most sincere feelings, hope mixed with torment.
I've been hurt before and lived through pain for a long time, and I know...
I know that the hope that bursts from the depths of suffering, its sincerity surpasses all sanctification.
‘Perhaps…this truth is deeper than any respect.’
I opened my mouth slowly and spoke to him in a calm voice:
“Kick.”
He raised his eyes to me, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead, and the heat of the fever stained his face with a dark red.
“I want something from you.”
"to request…?"
“You're in a lot of pain right now, aren't you?”
“……?”
He looked at me with a puzzled look, as if wondering, what is the point of my obvious question?
I also realized that it was an unnecessary question.
His face was screaming with one desire: to get rid of this torment at any cost.
“Don't you sometimes feel that you would rather die than suffer?”
“……”
“Aren't you going to do anything to forget this torment?”
"…correct."
He finally nodded, as if the word came from deep in his heart.
I smiled bitterly, then said:
“Then make this hope your strength...and ask.
Ask me to touch you.”
When Arkel heard my words, signs of confusion appeared on his face, as if he did not understand my meaning.
He said in a questioning tone:
“Why are you asking me such a strange request?”
I answered him calmly:
“Because the release of the power of holiness is conditional upon something.”
“What is that condition?”
I hesitated for a moment, then decided to be frank:
“You must show me reverence. Sincere feeling coming from the depths of your heart...”
Arkle laughed lightly, almost a laugh.
“Strange… Isn’t this power originally a power meant to help people without conditions?”
I said, staring at him steadily:
“And you don't even believe in such things.”
There was silence for a moment, then I added:
“Aren’t you the one who knows best that no power in this world works for free?”
He fixed his gaze on me, then his lips parted in a short smile.
“What a truly amazing saint you are.”
I objected immediately:
“I told you, I am not a saint. A vile woman like me. If I were called a saint, God himself would be angry.”
I asked him directly:
“So what are you going to do now?”
He didn't answer.
“You cannot force me to heal forcibly.”
After a short silence, he said:
“Right.”
My eyes widened in astonishment:
“Really?!”
“So it's enough for me to beg, right?”
"Yes…!"
"concept."
He looked away from me as if he was hiding something.
I said nervously:
“Hurry then.”
“Slow down...”
“Should it also be in the language of respect?”
"Yes."
In a low voice, and his face growing red, he muttered:
“…Touch me…please.”
I pretended to be serious as I stared at him, while inside I was holding on to a weak thread of composure.
'Oh crazy...this is complete madness...I've really lost my mind.'
Just because I heard kicking, that arrogant man asking me to touch him, I felt like my mind was going to explode.
I was struggling with all my might to keep my features straight and my confusion not revealed.
The reality is that I am one of those with corrupt tastes, and I cannot resist the sight of a handsome man in a moment of weakness.
A man's beautiful face when he is in pain or collapses... gives me an irresistible shiver.
Perhaps this is what made Red Moon my favorite story, as its hero stumbles and falls repeatedly without interruption.
And what I saw now from Arkell...was a perfect example of that image.
His slightly wrinkled brow, his face red from fever, his trembling voice full of sorrow...
'Who would believe that a man of that size could look so delicate?'
Rather, as he pleaded with respect, he made me feel grateful for the restrictions that were imposed on us.
'I thought it was an impossible condition, but it turned out to be the most beautiful thing about it.
Yes… reverence must be paid.’
He asked me in a cracked voice:
“Is this enough, Saint?”
I put my hand on my chest and nodded quietly.
It's my turn to keep the promise.
'Will it work...?'
Our gazes met in the space between us, and his face was still burning with an unusual blush.
'How beautiful...'
I carefully reached out my hand and touched his right cheek again.
'Are you starting to pay off?'
But I could not read any change in his features, so I reached out with the other hand to gently hold his other cheek.
And I asked him:
“Do you feel something?”
My heart was beating violently.
Arkell opened his red eyes and closed them slowly, then said in a weak voice:
“Good...”
I gasped internally.
A slight smile appeared on his lips, a sincere smile that did not resemble the painful smiles he used to create before.
He looked at me as if bewitched, then whispered:
“Are you… an angel?”
"angel?"
“I was about to go crazy... but the pain disappeared.”
So... it seems that the force has finally taken effect.
‘How great is this sacred ability truly…’
His ragged breathing settled, and his exhausted face returned to calm and comfort.
When I tried to gently pull my hand away, he suddenly grabbed my wrist.
"no."
I stopped in my tracks.
“A little more...just a little.”
His words were commanding, but they contained a hidden hope.
I smiled a small smile and put my palms back on his cheeks:
“Okay, as you wish.”
We remained motionless for a while.
❖ ❖ ❖
After a while, Arkell got up, saying that he had to get some things done.
While he was arranging his scattered clothes, he said in a cold tone:
“I summoned my assistant. He will come to take you to your room.”
She watched his back as he walked away.
The pained expression I had seen on him moments ago had completely disappeared, and he had returned to his usual coldness.
Until I thought that what I had seen a little while ago was an illusion.
She continued looking at him disappointedly:
'How frustrating...'
In fact, the image of his face, begging me to touch him, is still stuck in my head.
'I want to see that again...'
In Red Moon, all the characters suffered, but the one who tasted the bitterest torment most was the hero, Jin Alheim.
He stormed the Duke's palace, and not a day passed without him being torn apart in body and soul.
Although it was painful for him, readers loved those moments.
His cries, his pleas, his tears...all of them aroused a strange passion in them.
And I was no exception.
'Yes, we Red Moon Readers are nothing but a bunch of weirdos.'
As for Arkell Cain, except for what happens to him when magic energy explodes inside him, his features remain unchanged.
The most powerful man in the world, yet the most empty and indifferent.
But today I realized a new truth.
That man...must collapse.
‘Touch me...please.’
To have a body like this and a face like this, and then remain petrified and expressionless...is an unforgivable waste.
'He has to stumble more, suffer more... collapse more!'
I was giving him a stern look from behind when he suddenly turned around.
My body trembled unconsciously.
He looked at me with his steady red eyes and asked:
“What are you thinking now?”
~
Translated by Lynn💕