Why did I make such a hasty comment?
Should I take back my words now?
Rachel, having reached her bedroom, closed the door and leaned against it.
It was perplexing yet somewhat regretful that she had readily accepted her Lord’s proposal to toast.
It was an offer she had heard countless times before, one she had persistently refused day after day.
Her reactions to Elden’s suggestions came as naturally as saying one, then two—it was simply expected.
But why?
Why had she acquiesced so easily this time?
After pondering for a moment, she found no clear answer.
Moreover, she couldn’t even remember the last time she had shared a drink with anyone, especially not her lecherous Lord.
Well…
At least she wasn’t fixated on wine and women now, as if settling old scores.
“…Hmm.”
For now, she needed to prepare.
Rachel pushed herself off the door, unbuckled her sword, and loosened her shoulder pads.
Next, she took off her knee-high boots.
“……”
She sniffed.
Trying to catch a whiff of her feet.
Fortunately, they were odorless.
After finishing her disrobing, Rachel, now in her underwear, opened her wardrobe and surveyed the clothing.
‘…What should I wear?’
Her life had been all about getting stronger.
It had been a fervent existence, battling to free herself from the constraints of femininity.
Yet, even she had a dress that would suit a ‘party.’
In case of emergencies (like this one), she had prepared just one dress, which she’d never worn before.
‘Since it’s a party… I suppose I should wear something like this?’
Naturally, she had never attended a party herself.
As a noble’s bodyguard, her primary duty was to stand outside such festive venues.
‘Young ladies usually wear something like this when entering the ballroom…’
With a mix of doubt and determination, she retrieved the dress.
It was a red gown.
The style was simple, quite different from the flamboyance most noblewomen flaunted.
Rachel had purchased this on a budget, uncertain if she’d ever even need it. And now, that moment had arrived.
Her bangs, the last remnants of femininity she’d allowed herself, were as significant as this dress in many ways.
After all, every woman harbors a desire to don a beautiful dress at least once in her life.
‘……’
Standing before the mirror, she held the dress up to her body.
‘…It’s pretty…’
But isn’t it a bit over-the-top?
Rachel thought so, ultimately returning the dress to the closet.
It simply felt like too much.
She certainly wasn’t going to flaunt her femininity in front of her employer, who was merely a surface-level charm to hide her repressed side.
Someday, if she encountered a worthy partner—one stronger, with solid beliefs—she could consider wearing this red dress, she mused as she reached for her everyday clothes instead.
However,
This was a special party, her very first, so she decided to let her hair down.
Since she usually kept it in a ponytail, the ends cascaded freely, curling naturally outward.
Rustle, rustle.
As she tousled her hair to create some volume, Rachel headed toward the reception room.
She still couldn’t grasp why she had agreed to a drunken toast with someone who turned wild when inebriated, nor why she let her hair down.
Perhaps it was simply a teacher’s curiosity about whether her student’s transformation was genuine.
“…Why are you staring at me like that?”
Upon entering the reception room, Rachel questioned Elden, noticing the intensity of his gaze fixed on her hair.
“Ah, well, it’s just that… it’s my first time seeing you with your hair down.”
“Does it look… weird?”
Should she have left it tied up?
Was daring to stray from her usual style a mistake?
As she pondered this, wanting to retrieve the hair tie she’d brought, Elden’s casual compliment halted her.
“No, it looks great on you.”
“Does it?”
Rachel replied nonchalantly, extracting her hand from her pocket and taking a seat opposite Elden.
His acknowledgment of her resemblance didn’t fill her with joy, yet she deemed it a lucky compliment nonetheless.
“Don’t you usually wear it up?”
“It’s to avoid obstructing my vision.”
“Ah, I see. Always so meticulous, huh?”
“Indeed.”
After spending several days dining with Lady Ariel, Rachel felt oddly at ease while sitting across from Elden.
Regardless,
“What exactly is this toast for?”
She was genuinely curious.
Since returning from the advisor’s office, her Lord had maintained a satisfied smile. It hadn’t faded till now.
Although she had an inkling, Rachel wanted to hear the reasoning behind this toast directly.
Yet, his response was unexpected and left a lingering question.
“We’re toasting my escape from an unjust life.”
“…Pardon?”
That answer caught her completely off guard.
From what she had observed, Elden Raphelion didn’t seem associated with the term [unjust] at all.
Unlike her, he was born to privilege, indulging freely in whatever desires he pursued, never constrained by a sense of fairness.
Power and status.
Rachel, lacking such birthright, had to bleed, sweat, and cry to endure the [Injustices] of this world.
Escaping an unjust life? What exactly did he find so wrong?
Just as she contemplated asking, Rendler, the head butler, strolled into the room carrying a lavish tray of drinks, swallowing Rachel’s questions.
For now…
“Alright! Let’s eat, drink, and be merry today!”
Her delighted employer toasted, clinking glasses with her, leaving her no choice but to join in.
Cheers!
Gulp, gulp, gulp!
Thump!
“Wow! The beer tastes incredible today!”
“Hahaha! This might just be the best beer I’ve ever had!”
“….”
As Elden and Rendler cheered, bursting into merriment, Rachel watched them for a moment before cautiously taking a sip of her own beer.
And her eyes widened.
‘…Has it always been this delicious?’
The role of a bodyguard ended once they ensured their charge was safe and asleep.
Afterward, Rachel would typically leave night duties to another guard and retire to her room.
Her job was demanding, often lonely, but the monetary reward provided a cushion most commoners would envy.
Thus, for Rachel, drinking was merely a lonely ritual before sleep.
And even that needed to be brief, to prepare for the next day’s responsibilities.
She struggled to recall the last time she had toasting.
Having lived so fiercely, she had never known what it felt like to be intoxicated.
In her mind, drunkenness equated to vulnerability.
“How about you, Rachel?”
Roused from her thoughts by Elden’s question, she glanced up at him.
He wanted to know her take on the flavor.
In this case, only one reply was appropriate.
“It’s delicious.”
“Hahaha! Exactly! Did you know? Drinks are always better shared. Let’s keep going until we’re feeling blissfully tipsy!”
“Hohoho! To think this is our first toast, Knight Rachel! What an honor it is!”
Such a spirited atmosphere.
It felt somewhat strange to Rachel, yet it enveloped her in a comfort she longed for.
For Rachel, navigating the fierce world as a woman, having endured her father’s passing and the solitude that followed—this lively night felt both refreshing and soothing.
And that was probably why,
Now liberated from her usual duties, Rachel found herself crossing that threshold of moderation.
Hic!
Flushed from the alcohol, her hiccup marked her first taste of drunkenness since vowing to be a noble’s bodyguard.
But,
“My Lord… What’s your dream?”
“I wanna taste every monster dish out there!”
“I’m unemployed now?”
“Kukuku… You could lead the Raphelion family~”
“Hahahaha! Then, fetch this master a cup of… waterr….”
Rachel’s natural tolerance kept her a step ahead of Elden and Rendler, who were utterly sloshed.
Moments later,
Crash!
Elden, who had been bouncing on the sofa like a kid, fell to the floor, while Rendler, similarly inebriated, sprawled out on the couch like a half-dried squid.
“……”
Hic-.
Pfffff-.
Rachel chuckled.
The sight of Elden and Rendler, both sprawled in such an absurd manner, sent hearty laughter bubbling out of her.
It was perhaps the first real laugh she’d had in years; yet, in her intoxicated state, she was oblivious to that fact.
First things first.
She staggered to her feet and approached Elden.
Rachel remained his bodyguard.
Although she had temporarily stepped away from her duties, her concern compelled her to check on him.
Wobble, wobble.
She nudged him gently.
Fortunately, it seemed her Lord wasn’t too far gone; he mumbled sleepily with a faint smile.
“Spinning… this damned world… always spinning… hehehe…”
“…Are you alright?”
“….Didn’t fall… Just lying here… drunk… sleep…”
“If you sleep here, you’ll catch a cold. Please, get up.”
“Hmmm… Night~”
Sigh…
Well, if her Lord insisted on sleeping on the floor, she wouldn’t feel obliged to help him into bed.
As Rachel started to stand, a thought struck her.
She had been so curious about the true meaning behind his words. What did he mean by saying [escape from an unjust life]?
The question she had swallowed came back to her lips, and for a moment, she thought she might finally uncover its meaning.
“My Lord?”
“Blegh.”
“What did you mean by ‘escape from an unjust life’?”
“……”
His smile vanished.
The joyful drunkard turned solemn.
Elden’s expression, once gleeful, became marked with melancholy.
Then he spoke,
“Because… it’s not fair.”
The truth behind his words began to unfold.
“What do you mean…”
“Debts I didn’t accrue… living in misery just to pay them off… not fair…”
His voice quivered, on the verge of tears.
The deep remorse steeped in his tone conveyed a painful truth.
Had Elden Raphelion truly endured a wretched life to repay the family’s debts?
But that didn’t add up.
Ever since her employment as his bodyguard, the family had experienced decline but had never seemed to suffer so poorly.
What sort of burden did this reckless man carry?
Rachel grew increasingly intrigued by him.
“Debt… you say?”
Was he becoming emotional?
He covered his face with his arm.
His tightly pressed lips quivered slightly, swallowing down his sobs.
Then he confessed,
“Truly… wanted to die… it was that hard…”
As he shared the anguish of his struggles, Rachel recalled days spent enduring her trials, biting her lips until they bled.
Those days had been excruciatingly hard as well.
With no one to vent to, and no one to lean on, she’d faced those challenges alone.
Of course, the story Elden presented didn’t match her expectations, but it resembled the tragic life of Lee Jun-woo from her past—enduring misery to atone for his father’s gambling debts.
Jun-woo’s life had spiraled into hell, thwarted at every opportunity due to debt he had no power to repay.
As debts mounted, he became familiar with the taste of his blood-soaked lips after endless humiliations.
“……”
Without realizing it, Rachel felt her features soften as she regarded him.
While everyone bore their own burdens, she had never imagined Elden— that wastrel— carried such pain hidden behind a façade.
She hadn’t considered that he, like her, had fought against the world’s injustices, bearing scars mirroring her own.
Unconsciously, her hand reached out to gently touch his cheek.
It must have been the alcohol.
Or perhaps the late hour had dampened her reasoning.
Surely, the first taste of intoxication had blurred her senses, while the midnight hours corroded her judgment.
Because the man before her appeared so pitiful.
Because the man before her seemed undeniably admirable.
Even in his drunken stupor, he managed to resist his usual tendencies—and that alone earned him Rachel’s respect.
Perhaps meeting with the advisor had been his attempt to alleviate part of this ‘debt’?
She must have truly been more intoxicated than she thought, as Rachel began to trace the scar he had obtained while ‘escaping.’
And surely, the comfort of gently stroking his scars must also be a product of her drunkenness.
Having previously applied ointment to his wounds, she asked,
“Does… it still hurt?”
A simple inquiry regarding his scars.
But it was also something she posed to herself.
And the moment her question reached him, it was indeed fortunate to see his melancholic face brighten once again.
“No.”
Rachel smiled brightly before standing up and looking down at Elden, who had started snoring as she exited the room.
The following day,
When Elden awakened, he found a blanket covering him—Rachel’s blanket.
“Ugh-. I guess alcohol really is dangerous.”
With a shiver, Elden stirred from his lengthy sleep.
Although the inevitable hangover made the morning arduous, he felt inexplicably refreshed.
As though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
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