One side had been kicked so brutally that their clothes were soiled, and their body was covered in bruises. The other had suffered a direct blow to the face, resulting in a swollen cheek and split lip. It was utter chaos.
“Our duty is to protect the lady,” Malena replied calmly, causing Odelliana to bury her face in her hands in despair.
The mindless violence didn’t frighten her. It was the feeling of weakness, of powerlessness, of being unable to defend herself—and worse, the realization that someone else had been hurt because of her inability to protect them—that she couldn’t bear.
Matthias and Malena’s injuries were a direct consequence of her own weakness. They were a reflection of a powerless leader who couldn’t even protect her own people—a fool, through and through.
“I’m fine. I’ll get up now so I can change these soiled clothes. Please check on his wounds first. It looks like he’s hurt much worse than me,” Malena said, standing up casually as if the brutal kicks had had no effect on her. She even brushed the dirt off her clothes with an air of nonchalance.
“Thank you,” Odelliana replied softly. Malena turned, as if it were nothing out of the ordinary. “I was merely fulfilling my duty,” she said. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll go outside first. I think I should bring back some food for him,” she added, her dry, matter-of-fact tone carrying an unexpected warmth.
Odelliana watched her retreat, her heart heavy with a mix of emotions. Only when she was out of sight did she notice the boy cradled in her arms. “Matthias, are you alright?” she asked, turning her attention to him.
Matthias didn’t respond. He merely gazed blankly at her swollen cheek. “…Did that man lay a hand on you, Master?” he asked.
Shouldn’t he be more concerned about his own beaten-up face? Odelliana gave a sheepish smile and touched the cheek where Hermann had struck her. “He hit me the moment he barged in. I had no time to dodge,” she replied.
In truth, even if there had been a delay between the attacks, she would have been just as defenseless. But Odelliana clung to her pride, pretending she had “no choice but to take the hit.” It was a petty sense of competitiveness, even in a moment like this.
“You’re far more injured than me. Why did you step in and get hurt like that?” she asked.
She should have been angry at Hermann, not at Matthias, who had intervened to protect her. But seeing his handsome face swollen, she couldn’t help but feel upset. If Matthias had a more forgettable or unattractive face, she wouldn’t have been so bothered. This really was a national tragedy.
“Let’s put some ointment on,” she said.
Odelliana fetched a box of medicine and pulled out a jar of ointment. But before she could apply it, Matthias snatched the jar from her as if his own injuries didn’t matter at all.
“Please open your mouth,” Matthias said.
“…What?” Odelliana replied, hesitating.
Before she could react, Matthias’s fingers forcefully pried her lips open.
What was happening? Odelliana was taken aback by the unfamiliar sensation as his fingers explored her mouth. His long fingers touched areas no one had ever ventured before, and wherever his fingertips grazed, a stinging pain flared up, followed by a burning heat.
“Your mouth is completely torn up,” he said.
“…What?” Odelliana replied.
“You need some ointment,” Matthias said.
His long fingers glistened with saliva. Didn’t it bother him? His touch, softly stroking the tender flesh inside her mouth, was unhesitant and relentless.
The idea of pushing his invasive fingers away with a comment about focusing on his own injuries didn’t even cross her mind. Her thoughts evaporated into a blank haze, and a sense of shame washed over her, as if she were lying naked on a bed, completely exposed.
Matthias opened the jar of ointment he had taken and scooped out a sticky amount. With one hand, he cupped her chin and, applying gentle pressure, inserted his coated fingers back into her slightly parted lips.
His somewhat dry fingertips touched her moist, tender flesh. They grazed her orderly teeth and caressed places she had never allowed anyone to touch. His movements were cautious, yet rough, as though he had long since forgotten the original purpose of applying the ointment.
