Rumel and Aslan were dragged to the prison in bonds.
Fortunately, the guardhouse containing the prison was just ahead, so they hadn’t been bound for too long.
The moment they were shoved into the cell, they were able to sit freely without restraints.
Even though Steamfalos’ wings and the Dragon King’s armor had been taken from him, leaving Aslan clad only in a dark linen shirt and pants, he still considered himself lucky not to have been summarily executed.
He could leave anytime using Qi manipulation, and even without it, there were plenty of ways out—so there was no need to worry.
Though, that wasn’t how Rumel felt.
Rumel sat hugging their knees dejectedly, staring blankly at nothing.
“Looks like you’ve lost weight.”
Aslan noticed this as he looked at the woman. Despite her still impressive bosom that exuded an overwhelming presence, her face was gaunt. Her once lustrous hair now appeared dull and dry, and there were signs of sleep deprivation in her eyes.
The fierce gaze she usually maintained seemed forgotten, and with a look far too soft, almost vacant, she stared blankly at the cell wall.
Of course, what she had endured was no ordinary situation—being pursued by a warrior monk and having to deal with the Ilra noble family over the possession of Gerné wasn’t something easily manageable or straightforward.
Whether she could overcome all this alone was uncertain. Even Aslan, who avoided drawing the attention of priests before meeting Angie, knew how exhausting it was to be hunted by them.
Aslan understood the difficulties she had faced.
Still, the situation wasn’t entirely dire. Aslan sat beside Rumel and glanced outside the cell. There were no suspicious figures around the prison other than the guards.
At least these guards weren’t likely in cahoots with the warrior monks. Aslan sighed.
Here, in Ashan, the city of indulgence, was territory directly under the Emperor’s control.
During the reign of the previous emperor, caution would have been warranted, but the current emperor was Ilyena—a young female ruler striving to create an empire solely for humans while rejecting warrior monks.
On her land, at least within the confines of this prison, there was little chance of being assassinated by a warrior monk.
An attack might happen, but if it did, there would likely be enough time to respond.
So, the warrior monks weren’t an immediate concern.
What worried Aslan now was why Rumel van Holn had ended up in such a predicament.
It was hard to figure out just by guessing. Aslan turned his head to ask Rumel but flinched when he noticed someone approaching.
Tap.
A head leaning against Aslan’s shoulder. The faint, sweet scent that suddenly wafted towards him was unmistakable, even amidst the dust and dirt.
It was subtly sweet, reminiscent of flowers, though Aslan, unfamiliar with most flowers except medicinal ones, couldn’t pinpoint which kind. Nonetheless, a delicate floral aroma emanated from the woman.
The scent was pleasant and not at all unpleasant. Aslan quickly regained his composure, glanced down, and saw Rumel sleeping soundly, breathing softly against his shoulder.
‘Is she exhausted? Or does she feel safe?’
Rumel had previously explored ruins with Aslan. During that time, they fought together, and although Aslan didn’t remember exactly what happened, trust was built between them.
Thus, Rumel probably felt safe enough with Aslan nearby to fall asleep.
Or perhaps she was simply too tired to think about anything else.
Aslan smiled faintly as he observed the sleeping woman. He wasn’t heartless enough to wake her; he could lend her his shoulder for as long as needed.
Still, he couldn’t just sit idly waiting. Aslan closed his eyes and entered a meditative state. A profound emptiness swirled beneath his eyelids.
*
Rumel van Holn.
The woman who loved lilacs took a deep breath and opened her eyes.
Her soft gaze revealed evident fatigue and tension, yet she made no sound of discomfort.
Whether this was due to her aristocratic demeanor or sheer exhaustion was unclear, but upon waking, she refrained from stretching—an act she considered fortunate.
“Hmm…!”
Upon waking, she felt the firmness of a man’s shoulder and a strangely intoxicating scent. Startled by the strong male fragrance, she placed her hand on her chest and pulled away.
“I’m sorry, please forgive me…”
Rumel apologized hastily but paused when Aslan showed no reaction, then blinked in surprise.
Aslan remained silent. His face, illuminated palely by the moonlight, was calm as he breathed steadily with his eyes closed.
Though his posture was somewhat stiff, Rumel assumed it was part of his unique sleeping habit.
“Are you asleep?”
Her question went unanswered. Confirming that Aslan was indeed sleeping, she blinked several times before letting out a small sigh.
And with that sigh, she began checking herself.
She ran her hands over her clothes to ensure nothing was amiss, confirming whether any subtle discomfort lingered on her body.
The reason was simple.
Rumel van Holn was aware of being one of the most beautiful women in Gerné, knowing she possessed an attractive figure. Having been naturally gifted and carefully cultivated, even after developing a warrior’s physique, she still considered herself quite appealing.
She wondered if Aslan might have touched her while she slept.
While unlikely and disrespectful to consider, it couldn’t be helped. After all, throughout history—especially in adventure tales—defenseless sleeping maidens were often targets of mischief.
Recalling these stories, she thoroughly inspected herself.
Thinking about any possible mischievous acts done to her.
After inspection, Rumel realized Aslan hadn’t touched her at all. Her buttons were undisturbed, and areas prone to unwanted attention—her chest and hips—were intact.
With no trace of tampering, Rumel let out a sigh of relief and looked at Aslan.
Sitting motionless with his eyes closed, Aslan appeared serene, even noble, to her.
‘What a truly gentlemanly person… It’s fortunate I’m with him.’
On second thought, it seemed as if he had protected her from others who might have tried to take advantage of her.
Given that Aslan’s seat was near the cell door, Rumel imagined him threatening and driving away any guards who intended to harass her.
That must have been the case. Concluding her reverie, she sat beside Aslan again.
The distinct male scent tickling her nose made her smile softly as she gazed at his profile.
Upon reflection, this man, Aslan, had passionately courted her during their time in the ruins. He had even risked his life to save hers, citing that it would be a shame for her to die.
Such a man wouldn’t suddenly attempt to molest her. Realizing her unwarranted suspicion, Rumel berated herself and glanced at Aslan, whose eyes were peacefully closed.
Her gaze naturally followed his features.
First, she noticed his eyes. Though closed gracefully beneath his eyelids, a glimpse of cool emerald green peeked through the slits.
It was a chilly color, yet it reminded her of the lake water she often admired aboard pleasure boats in Gerné, evoking a sense of familiarity.
Above those familiar eyes lay thick eyebrows.
Dark and bold, these eyebrows exuded masculinity. They carried a sense of dignity, and Rumel imagined running her fingers along them, finding them surprisingly soft.
Beneath these contemplative brows was a face marked by melancholy features.
A prominent nose bridge, firmly shut lips, and sharp jawline caused Rumel to unconsciously swallow as she examined his face.
‘Would it be alright to get a bit closer?’
Would it be fine to observe more closely? Thinking this, Rumel instinctively leaned closer. Unaware of her expression, she tilted forward to scrutinize his face intensely, feeling as if the beauty she discovered held answers to life itself.
Only realizing belatedly that his eyes were opening, the young woman startled and quickly distanced herself.
Her hand, which had unknowingly reached out to touch his face, lingered longer than it should have.
When Aslan opened his half-lidded emerald eyes and met her gaze, Rumel gasped and instinctively extended her hand.
“…Miss Rumel?”
Aslan’s head moved slightly backward as Rumel’s hand covered his face, causing him confusion. Feeling her palm against his lips, Aslan hesitated before pulling back.
His expression reflected bewilderment. Blushing furiously, Rumel bit her lip and said,
“Forget it, please…”
What exactly did she want him to forget? Placing his hand on his face?
Though perplexed, Aslan nodded, thinking there was no harm in agreeing.
“Yes, as you wish.”
When Rumel looked at Aslan with bashful eyes, he glanced around.
Thankfully, everything appeared unchanged since before he entered meditation. The absence of guards was unsurprising given the hour.
Finally, Aslan’s gaze settled on the incoming moonlight, and he seemed to realize something, nodding.
“We just need to wait a little longer.”
“…Pardon?”
“It’s nothing.”
Was it a soliloquy? As Rumel blinked, Aslan shook his head gently with a soft smile.
“Ah, I forgot to ask earlier due to the commotion. Did you sleep well?”
Rumel felt a slight pang of defeat at the question.
“Yes, I rested well.”
She answered tersely, biting her lip as if hiding her irritation, prompting Aslan to chuckle.
“In that case, could you explain the situation?”
Despite trying to evade the question, Aslan continued with a gentle smile.
“When we parted ways to pursue our respective missions, Miss Rumel mentioned completing a necessary task before returning. I inferred that your mission involved revenge and assumed the recent murders of nobles near Gerné were connected to your task.”
At the mention of the Ilra noble family, Rumel tensed visibly, prompting Aslan to place a hand on her shoulder.
The warmth reassured Rumel, relaxing her shoulders.
“But Miss Rumel, you also stated that you hadn’t killed anyone in this city. I didn’t perceive this as a contemptuous remark dismissing the Ilra family as non-human.”
Gently massaging her shoulder, Aslan met Rumel’s eyes and smiled.
“So, please enlighten me. What is going on?”
Rumel bowed her head as Aslan added,
“How did Thor Mull come back to life?”
Without answering, Rumel hugged her knees tightly. Her compressed chest changed shape, causing Aslan to glance away uncomfortably, but Rumel paid no heed. She merely stared at Aslan with trembling, frightened eyes.
Meeting her gaze, Aslan spoke.
“I am on your side, Miss Rumel, and I need you. Please, don’t hesitate to tell me.”
His voice, heavy with worry and pleading sincerity, brought tears to Rumel’s eyes.
Eventually, Rumel began to speak.
