“Young Master Ian Louis.”
Ian Louis đang treo mình trên ngọn cây, khẽ cúi đầu nhìn xuống. Irel vẫy tay về phía cậu, người đang lơ lửng bồng bềnh như một đám mây trắng.
"Good morning. Young master, do you know where he is?"
Last night, Varkan came home quite late. In a dream, Irel felt his hot body temperature and steady weight as he lay down next to her. Along with that is the smell of cigars that is both bitter and strangely sweet, mixed with the ironic scent of perfume.
Cô có rất nhiều điều muốn hỏi Varkan, nhưng đôi mắt nặng trĩu không tài nào mở ra được. He immediately pulled her into his large arms and pressed his lips to her forehead.
“Sleep a little longer.”
Bàn tay hắn vuốt ve mái tóc cô mềm mại đến kinh ngạc. Irel rubbed her cheek against his palm, which was as warm as a heated stone, and sighed softly with satisfaction like a small cat. After that, she fell asleep. Lúc tỉnh dậy, Varkan đã không còn nằm bên cạnh nữa.
“Do you need Big Brother?”
Ian Louis asked in a sleepy voice. Irel guessed he was asking her if she was looking for Varkan, so she nodded.
“Over there. On top of the hill.”
The private estate on which the Bassloe Moor estate is located is extremely large. Just like a small town. For that reason, finding Varkan right on campus is also a difficult challenge.
Following the direction Ian Louis' semi-transparent finger pointed, she panted up the slope. Before her eyes opened a vast, green lawn.
Tac—
From somewhere came the refreshing sound of polishing. Varkan, who can turn an entire town into a sea of flames without lifting a finger, is someone who likes to exercise his body in ways that don't match his appearance.
‘Chắc là hắn đang tập thể dục buổi sáng thôi.’
Thinking that, Irel raised her head, then immediately regretted it. What the hell is healthy morning exercise?
“Uh… um!!!”
Trên thảm cỏ xanh tươi, các thuộc hạ của Varkan đang trói và bắt vài người đàn ông quỳ gối. And Varkan stood a little distance away, with perfect posture, swinging his croquet stick.
Tack—!!
“Cough… cough!!”
Bả vai và phần thân trên vạm vỡ của hắn xoay nửa vòng, dồn sức mạnh đánh thẳng vào quả bóng. Quả bóng bay đi như một mũi tên, không chút thương xót đập mạnh vào gò má của người đàn ông bị trói. Hệt như hắn đang dùng họ làm bia sống vậy.
‘Um.’
Irel closed his eyes tightly. She didn't know what crime these men had committed to be tied here to be beaten, but that was Varkan's story. She didn't want to interfere even a little bit.
Just as Irel, with a pale face, was about to turn around and leave, Varkan seemed to want to take a break and casually threw the croquet stick onto the grass. He took the cigar out of his pocket, used his fingertips to light it, then looked towards her.
“Look who is there.”
He furrowed his dark eyebrows, exhaled a long stream of smoke, and grinned.
“Our oversleeping lady, what happened so early in the morning?”
The tone was soft but contained a clear discomfort. It seemed like being caught at the 'work scene' made him unhappy.
“Ah, sorry. I just wanted to ask you something…”
“Want to ask?”
"Yes. But it's not urgent. You seem busy right now, let's talk later."
Varkan stared at Irel with deep eyes. Perhaps because it was still early, the sunlight falling on her head shone pale blue. Under that light, the forced smile, trying to appear calm on her trembling lips, looked pitiful.
'I'm scared.'
That's right. Varkan glanced at the faces that were bloody from being hit many times by hard balls.
The underworld under Varkan's influence, although in darkness, has a strict order. Those who were protected by him, even though they were from lowly backgrounds, still respected him. Because, without Varkan, no one would listen to Demon Kitan's massacres in the slums.
In a world where flesh-eating monsters rage, it's only civilians who suffer. The royal family and nobility don't even mind if a few commoners get killed.
So how can you know? They decided to worship the King of the Slums instead of the King of the Aristocrats. Therefore, they strictly obey his rules to show respect.
Except for those who are tied up in front of them.
These bastards tried to kidnap the waitress working at his slum pub. This is something that happens quite often lately.
Varkan was both angry at their crazy behavior and extremely amused. He intended to pour out his whole heart and use his feet to crush the seed that had just raised its head after many days of silence.
But for some reason, when Irel saw this scene, he was in a bad mood. He was even a little startled for a few seconds. Normally, he would see this as a win-win situation, he could both scare Irel and entertain her by seeing her tremble.
“… Fuck.”
Feeling bad, Varkan out of habit was about to smoke a cigar but stopped. He stared at the bloodless face of Irel who had just woken up, then looked at the opium-containing cigar in his hand.
At this point, he no longer wanted to swear. He frowned, stubbed out the cigar he had just smoked, and fell to the ground. He stood with his hands on his hips, looking sideways at Irel.
"Tell me. What do you want to ask?"
Did he turn off his cigar because of me? Irel tilted her head, but didn't have the courage to ask directly. With Varkan's gruff nature, if she asked like that, he would definitely make her blush.
Therefore, Irel sighed and decided to get straight to the point.
“I, don't know if you remember, but… my mother is coming today.”
"Mother? Ah, ah."
Varkan was rubbing his chin with his free hand when he suddenly remembered. Today is the day Elorance's family comes to negotiate some issues to prepare for the wedding.
The Earl of the Elorance family wanted a compact wedding. Partly because Irel also wanted that, but definitely because they felt ashamed of their son-in-law who was no different from a thug. It was a great humiliation for a prestigious family like theirs to marry their precious daughter to someone considered Masaka's prey.
‘What a bunch of nobles.’
Varkan is disgusted by their hypocritical nobility. They neglect their duty
noblesse oblige
protecting the people, but throwing away the lives of the weak to the monsters, then hiding himself in a safe place, boasting and boasting.
Fortunately, the Earl Elorance family, a border marquis family, had few problems
disgusting
This is better. After all, Calbert Elorance, his future father-in-law, had spent half his life at the border and fulfilled his duty to the country.
Maybe that's why? He suddenly had the desire to bow his head in front of them, begging them to allow this marriage, even if it was just a boring drama.
"Chellos has prepared everything carefully. Is there a problem?"
“No… I'm impressed. I want to say thank you in advance.”
And also said that it was a bit excessive. Irel smiled wryly as she remembered the welcoming flower baskets she saw in the lobby when she left. It says it's decorative, but it looks like a flower festival.
Not to mention, the dining utensils that the maids brought out were so colorful and gorgeous. Meanwhile, in a corner of the living room, the servants who had hurried down to town since early morning to get Louisa's favorite dessert were panting to adjust their breathing.
"Hopefully my mother-in-law will also be satisfied. So I can soon take you home as my wife."
“Yes… I hope so too.”
Why did I marry this man? Irel gave a lifeless smile, looking up at Varkan in front of him.
The black shirt he wore matched his bright red hair and tanned skin. In fact, it fits so well that it exudes something
pheromones
strong, not at all suitable for the fresh morning air.
Because he swung the croquet club early in the morning, a little sweat formed on his throat, collarbone, and chest muscles. Just when he seemed to feel hot, he pulled off the shirt that stuck to his body, revealing his toned arms and perfect abs.
'But... just this face, isn't it valuable enough to get married?'
That's right, it's okay to have a bad personality. His appearance
gentle
but. After all, he saved my life. Even just now, he turned off his cigar because of me. At this point, isn't he a perfect fairy?
The mind of the soul from a country that worships appearanceism is trying to convince itself. Just when she was almost convinced, Varkan looked towards her again, took another puff of his cigar, and asked in a lazy voice.
"What I wanted to ask. Is that all?"
“Ah, no.”
She was almost so mesmerized by his appearance that she forgot her main purpose. Irel looked around and gently signaled him with her hand. She means there's something important to talk about.
Before lowering his head, Varkan looked at her for a moment. Her small face, which could fit in one hand, was extremely delicate and delicate. The serious expression appearing on that face was so cute that he wanted to bite it.
[Ting! Varkan's favorability has increased by 3.]
…Why did it increase suddenly? Irel tilted her head in confusion, but just as Varkan lowered his head, she lost the chance to ask. He chuckled as if joking, then whispered lazily:
"Come on, talk. My little bird."
Irel gulped. And she whispered softly into his smiling ear.
“Do you know a man named Ramon Fernandes?”
At that question, the smile on Varkan's face disappeared like a lie.