Ch.242Lorian (4)

When people open their eyes in the morning, there are moments when they particularly don’t want to.

It could be due to accumulated stress, or simply because they’re tired.

But to clearly distinguish between the two, it comes down to whether you don’t want to open your eyes, or whether you can’t.

And Llewellyn was the former. He didn’t want to open his eyes. Because his body was comfortable and his resting place was cozy, because he was already worried about the consequences.

Because he knew that bearing the weight of his crime would be difficult or impossible, and because he knew the victim wouldn’t pursue it or demand punishment.

So Llewellyn kept his eyes closed, wishing time would stop right there.

“Llewellyn.”

But he couldn’t escape reality forever, and Llewellyn slowly opened his eyes to Lorian’s soft voice calling him.

“…Lorian.”

When he turned his head, he saw Lorian. The knight was lying with her head on Llewellyn’s arm, wearing a troubled expression.

She was looking up at Llewellyn with traces of dried tears on her face.

“We should probably get up soon.”

She spoke calmly. She had recovered quickly from what they had been doing just moments ago.

If it had been Lucilla, Isla, or Melody, they would have been unable to do anything for quite some time, still suffering from the aftermath.

Perhaps this was proof that she was indeed a being that transcended humanity. After saying as much to herself, she rose and wrapped her torn dress around Llewellyn’s hand.

Her composure was surprising. Even though her lower body was almost completely exposed, Lorian was dressing herself and tying her hair as if nothing had happened.

Llewellyn could only stare at her in a daze.

‘What’s going on? Did I dream it all?’

Llewellyn thought that for a moment, but then he saw the fluid flowing from between Lorian’s legs and knew it couldn’t have been a dream.

“Lorian, are you alright?”

“Hmm?”

Lorian looked at him quizzically. Llewellyn was taken aback by her seemingly unbothered eyes.

“Well, you know, because we… did that…”

“Did that… Oh, you mean the blood-drinking?”

While Llewellyn was confused, she smiled faintly.

With a refreshingly bright smile that suited her, Lorian spoke as if nothing was wrong.

“It’s a side effect of blood-drinking, so what can we do? The solution might be a bit extreme… but it felt good. I don’t mind.”

She even seemed proud, and Llewellyn finally realized.

Lorian lacked knowledge. In fact, she had never been interested enough in humans to know about such acts.

‘But I thought she understood what a physical relationship meant…’

Previously, she had mentioned accepting his sister as his lover, forming a relationship with her.

Lorian had understood that and seemed quite shocked by it.

‘From that, I thought she knew.’

Llewellyn looked at Lorian suspiciously, and she tilted her head at her master’s gaze.

Her sweat-dampened hair swayed gently.

Her expression showed complete incomprehension. Since Lorian wasn’t good at lying, any deception would have been obvious.

But there was no sign of it. Llewellyn scratched his head, puzzled.

“Do you know what we just did?”

“Wasn’t it solving the side effect? You said you would solve it.”

That was true. Llewellyn had been vague, not feeling confident enough to give a quick sex education.

So Llewellyn was certain that Lorian didn’t know that what had just happened constituted a “physical relationship.”

Similarly, she didn’t know what could happen to her body as a result.

Llewellyn broke into a cold sweat as he contemplated.

Should he open his mouth and tell the truth, bringing disaster upon himself?

Or should he pretend not to know and accept the tragedy that would come later?

The conclusion was obvious. Llewellyn grabbed Lorian’s shoulders and turned her around as she was fixing her clothes, saying, “Hmm, your skirt is so short that your bottom is showing.”

“Llewellyn?”

The blood knight blinked in confusion. Llewellyn faced the knight who had been beneath him moments ago, moaning shamelessly.

He held her slender shoulders with both hands and looked into her eyes.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something…”

“Lorian.”

“Um, yes. I’m listening.”

“What you and I just did…”

“It felt good. If you want to do it again, I’m fine with it.”

“No, no. I mean—”

It’s difficult to say. But Llewellyn knew he had to speak.

He steeled his resolve and said with a sigh:

“What you and I just did.”

And once he had decided, he had the virtue of not hesitating.

“That was a physical relationship.”

Lorian was shocked.

*

“I’m sorry for calling you at such a late hour. But… why do you look like that?”

Llewellyn and Lorian had a conversation.

It wasn’t a long one, and in truth, the silences were longer than the words exchanged.

Still, Llewellyn considered it a conversation. He wasn’t sure what Lorian thought.

At least he knew that Lorian didn’t dislike it. Rather, she had indicated that it felt good and that she wanted to do it again.

The reason Lorian was now silent and seemingly contemplative was probably due to the possibility of pregnancy and “their future relationship.”

Llewellyn glanced at Lorian and said:

“We had a little fight.”

“…I see.”

Whether it could be called a fight was questionable, but it wasn’t entirely wrong.

In the place where Llewellyn had lived, some people did prefix the act with “battle,” so the rough interaction between Llewellyn and Lorian could be considered a fight of sorts.

“Why are your clothes like that? Is that also because of the fight?”

The Court Count didn’t seem to expect an answer. It was obvious.

He finished speaking, turned his head, and clasped his hands behind his back.

“Follow me.”

The long corridor felt empty with just the three of them—the Court Count walking ahead, Lorian, and Llewellyn.

It was a gallery of sorts. Llewellyn had the impression he’d seen it somewhere before as he walked through it.

Glancing at Lorian, he saw that she was uncomfortable due to her completely torn undergarments and clothes, but when she caught Llewellyn’s gaze, she stared back at him.

Her expression was hard to read. But if Llewellyn were to guess what she was thinking, it would be this:

She must be confused.

At the same time, she would be coming to terms with having had a physical relationship with Llewellyn, wondering whether it was due to the enchantment or not.

At least, that’s what Llewellyn would be thinking.

Besides, wasn’t Llewellyn quite handsome and a good man? Though he hesitated to praise himself too much, Llewellyn always recalled what his sister used to say.

Praise and evaluations that were excessive even for a brother. Looking back now, her words seemed to have had “devouring” intentions from the start.

But they couldn’t have been complete lies. So Llewellyn thought to himself, ‘I’m decent enough to be embraced, aren’t I?’

Moreover, Lorian had said with her own mouth that it felt good, and given that her concept of physical relationships differed from that of ordinary humans, she wouldn’t find it unpleasant.

Thinking positively, Llewellyn looked at Lorian.

Nevertheless, she would still be pondering its meaning. Perhaps it lingered more in her mind because of her menstruation and becoming a “woman.”

Llewellyn nodded while maintaining eye contact with Lorian, and she smiled faintly, tilting her head.

Her lips parted to form a shape.

‘What is it?’

Llewellyn smiled back as if it were nothing, and Lorian patted his back with her prosthetic hand before taking the lead.

The gallery was long. Through the windows on either side, a faint light entered, like amplified starlight.

It was a place with a serene, elegant, and solemn atmosphere. Fittingly, the walls were covered with countless murals that only beings who had transcended humanity, like Llewellyn or Lorian, could see.

The murals were familiar to Llewellyn.

They matched some of those in the Pantheon, both in style and partially in content.

While Llewellyn was examining the murals and comparing the few differences:

“Do you know what situation we’re in right now?”

The Court Count suddenly asked.

“We are in a cold war, and a civil war. As you might vaguely know, we are divided into those who abandoned the master we should serve, those who couldn’t choose, and those who still cling foolishly, fighting each other.”

Though he didn’t seem to expect an answer, speaking immediately, Llewellyn already knew this from the Empress.

Still, he didn’t interrupt. Llewellyn was the one in need, the one who needed help.

Perhaps the Court Count needed help too, but that could be discussed when the time came.

Above all, Llewellyn wanted to hear the Court Count’s side because he couldn’t fully trust the Empress.

If this was the being who could be considered Lorian’s progenitor and had a significant influence on Lorian’s character…

He was probably the most trustworthy among the three patriarchs of the three clans.

“Is it right to belittle those who still believe in and follow ‘Father’ as foolish?”

“It is indeed foolish. I don’t intend to deny that.”

The Court Count looked up at the ceiling wistfully. Though the sky wasn’t visible beyond the ceiling, he smiled bitterly as if he could clearly see beyond it.

“We are defective products that cannot fulfill our created purpose, ungrateful children who will never achieve it. It’s only natural that Father would feel disillusioned and leave.”

His smile was deeply infused with fatigue.

The fatigue of one who had waited and pursued for a long time, knowing he would never reach what he sought.

Having to do something futile and useless while knowing the result, it was only natural.

Llewellyn recalled a line from a game he had once seen in a video.

Wasn’t madness defined as doing the same thing over and over but expecting different results?

That was exactly it. The Court Count was essentially no different from a madman.

“So I can understand why my half-blooded kin seek a way to survive, and why they ponder whether that path is right, bringing in foreign elements like you.”

The sound of footsteps echoed through the silent gallery. The end of that silence was gradually becoming visible to Llewellyn.

It was a building he had thought unnecessarily large and grand. A place that reflected the aspiration of someone who had once wanted to fill it entirely with an immortal clan.

A gallery of one whose remaining nature was to bestow power out of sorrow for human mortality.

A gallery and triumphal arch meant to announce eternal victory.

Llewellyn walked through the gallery, abandoned and forgotten in defeat, and saw the throne at its end.

“But whether you truly have sufficient qualification to follow in place of ‘Netel’ remained uncertain.”

A reasonable doubt. Llewellyn was now looking at the Court Count who had stopped before the throne.

“Even after long examination and deliberation, I couldn’t understand what the Empress wants to achieve through you.”

“What would you have me do?”

“Prove yourself.”

His hand brushed the throne, and he glanced at Lorian before erasing his faint smile.

What remained was an iron-blooded ruler. The master of the blood clan, charged with caring for the palace abandoned by the king and protecting the three clans.

He declared to Llewellyn:

“End the cold war, subjugate the necromancer, and truly make the Empress your ally.”

A difficult task. Even he himself showed signs of not truly believing it could be accomplished.

But to subjugate the three transcendent species created by God, that much was necessary. Both Llewellyn and the Court Count knew this.

Looking down at Llewellyn, his red eyes seemed to soften for the first time.

“If you do that, the blood clan will regard you as ‘Father’ and follow you.”