Ever Ever After - Chapter 15

Chapter 15: Enjoyable Warmth 

It took half a year for the Knights Order to take back the castle of Geneva. Though it had taken long, not a single life of the twenty knights was lost. It took much sheer time and effort to dig a tunnel that passed through the gates. But it was worth it. They were rewarded with joys of victory. 

The House of Green, the original owner of the castle, was the first to provide comfortable beds for the knights. Thanks to their goodwill, the knights slept comfortably. 

But… 

Injuries were bound to happen. 

No matter how good the strategy may be, they were still small in numbers and many of the knights leaned on Clint’s strength. 

Clint wounded his arm, making attempts to block a knife flying to one of his men while fending off an enemy. 

When Tarren noticed the blood leaking out of his armor as Clint walked to his room, he asked with a grave expression, “Captain, are you sure you’re all right?
 

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s getting late. Go sleep, Tarren,” Clint said as if he wasn’t injured but annoyed rather. 

Only after Tarren left hesitantly did Clint let out a painful groan as he took off his armor. He had a deep wound on his arm. 

Yes… 

He was in the midst of a war and he couldn’t show any signs of weakness. Clint needed to be strong in front of the knights to keep their morale high. If he was any other normal person, Clint thought he’d have long died from excessive bleeding. 

Clint grabbed a strong liquor, the color red and dark, almost the color of blood, resting on the table and hovered it close to his arm. Pouring the alcohol on his would, a terrible pain inflicted him. Clint grit his teeth hard. 

With cold sweats, he patched the open wound with a thread and needle. He clenched his teeth with painstaking effort that he’d almost bitten half his tongue off. The searing pain from the wound was so great that he couldn’t feel pain from the needle stabbing him. 

After a proper suture, he tied a clean white cloth he had prepared around his arm tightly. He wanted to take a rest, but he knew that if he closed his eyes now and took a rest, he’d wake up and see death.
 

He was trying to think of something, but nothing came up. His mind went blank. 

Lying on the bed with a grunt, he looked at the black, mangled spots spread throughout his hand, suddenly remembered the letter he received from Ailea in a flash. 

Clint quickly tore open the letter he received from her. He needed something to keep him awake. And she was it. 

“Come back safely, Mr. Playboy. Your girls are waiting.” 

“Heh. This woman.” 

Clint smiled—the first smile he had ever worn on the battlefield—at her choice of words. For a moment, he forgot the pain and finished reading the rest of the letter. 

“I’m sorry that you’re sharing my pain. And… thank you.” 

“May you be happy.” 

“I enjoyed your warmth.” 

“Ailea Elgar Euliana.” 

“Why does she… talk…. like she’s about to die soon?” 

Clint crumpled the letter unknowingly but soon opened it back up again with a look of surprise only to fold it neatly. 

A little after he left with his knights, Clint wondered whether she still lived alone in the Outer Palace. Even the servants who served her were no longer. 

Maybe it was temporary, he thought. Maybe she’s living in the capital at this very moment. 

The scalding pain eased a little and Clint repeated a sentence that pervaded his mind as he laid back on the bed looking up at the ceiling. 

“I enjoyed your warmth.” 

He rose from the bed. 

“Damn it! What’s so warm about a woman who’ll become an empress? She didn’t want that kiss…” 

It was that look in her eyes… big, wide, and… frightened. 

Clint couldn’t understand. What warmth? He was far from that and it was her who’s lips were full of warmth. 

Clint lowered his gaze and looked at his left hand marked with dark spots. His handsome face turned mercilessly dark. 

These black spots were probably the reason Ailea looked lonely and depressed. 

It didn’t seem difficult to cure the disease. Clint thought so. But why did it look as if she was facing a dead-end wall with that sentence that felt like she had given up? 

“Eat well and live well.” 

What? He couldn’t fathom her. Why was she busy worrying about others? 

‘Ailea, are you eating well? Are you doing well?’