“……Is this a divine towel?”
Rachel stood there, staring blankly at the towel in her hand, brought to her by the village chief himself.
It was said to be a sacred towel soaked and dried in holy water, reserved for those deemed worthy of bathing in the gods’ hot springs.
For Rachel, who never planned to indulge in a divine hot spring, it was just an ordinary towel.
However, her perspective changed drastically when a man boldly threw down the gauntlet, challenging the rights of the gods.
“Hmm. How about we enjoy a hot spring~?”
“…….”
Elden, twisting his body as if stiff, stretched while holding just that one towel and headed towards the backyard hot spring, and Rachel watched, captivated by the spectacle.
The rights and realms of the gods.
She knew that those grandiose phrases merely described a hot water puddle, but for Rachel, who had never bathed in an open space, that hot spring felt like a forbidden realm rather than divine territory.
She had spent her whole life trying to escape the trap of being a woman.
To her, the physical characteristics that came with being female were just subjects of shame and insult.
Of course, she never felt resentment or hatred toward her parents for the gifts they had bestowed; however, stepping into the world of men meant she had to conceal them.
Rachel had lived her life denying her identity, and whenever her innate instincts tried to surface, she would trample them down with determination.
A ponytail.
A red dress.
A necklace hidden beneath her armor.
Such things were like a rebellion against the instincts she had to suppress, reminders of what she had to discard.
Thus, bathing outdoors was no trivial pursuit for someone like Rachel. It required a monumental decision to break free of her repressed feelings.
“Hum hum~”
Rachel heard humming in her ears.
It was Ariel’s voice, and soon after, she imagined a scene of a man and woman embracing each other in a cave.
Rachel had indeed held a man before.
From behind.
“Die.”
When weapons shattered and a melee broke out, she had wrapped her arm around the opponent’s neck from behind.
But there was a stark difference between the embrace in the cave, which was for survival, and the embrace in battle, which was meant to kill each other.
She had never held a man in her arms with the intention of intimacy, and because of that, she felt curious, yet asking about it somehow felt like a defeat to Lady Ariel.
After all, it was a silly, dumb question to even think about.
“Hum hum~”
Rachel watched Ariel, who was humming a cheerful tune.
For some reason, she tightened her grip on the towel in her hand.
And then…
“Right. If I want it, I must move.”
That strength soon transformed into a decision to defy her own beliefs.
She had lived fiercely to achieve what she desired, fighting against everything that stood in her way.
The purple knight.
She had reached a state of a swordsman to some extent, and now, she was living a peaceful life, holding onto what she had while letting her fighting spirit fade.
She no longer needed a reason to reignite that fighting spirit.
However…
The image of the man and woman embracing in the cave casually dropped a few logs on the fire of her extinguished motivation, and the scent of the woman wafting from her disciple was like a single ember that fell onto that pile.
And unbeknownst to her, that ember began to smolder and shift into a new flame of determination, different yet familiar from the days gone by.
It was a strange sensation.
In her past, she had to hide and suppress her identity to become the greatest swordsman; now, her new motivation pointed in a completely opposite direction.
It was the natural path to take.
What she sought had now become entirely different.
Her past resolve was about gaining strength and honors as a swordsman; now, that desire was about fighting to achieve what she had once had to reject.
Thus…
“Rachel? Where are you going?”
Facing Ariel’s question as she boldly took a step forward, Rachel concealed her triumphant smile and replied.
“I’m going to enjoy the hot spring.”
It was only natural that a look of horror spread across Ariel’s face as she pictured the dizzying situation that phrase would conjure.
“W-What?! Did Elden just say he was going to take a hot spring bath?!”
For Ariel, who had never even dared to entertain the thought of mixed bathing between a man and a woman who weren’t married, it felt like an unholy act, leading to a level of embarrassment that tipped her into cognitive dissonance.
Rachel was determined to initiate the battle for what she wanted.
In a world where blade clashes were the norm, it was clear that hesitation could be deadly.
“Yes, I heard.”
“What? So, you’re saying we’re bathing together?”
“Yes.”
“W-Why?”
“Because I also enjoy hot springs.”
Ariel’s eyes darted around nervously, her mind a whirlpool of overactive imagination.
She pictured a scene of Elden and Rachel in the hot spring, their skin touching.
“W-Wait a minute! If you go, who’s going to keep watch?”
Ariel’s thoughts were solely focused on erasing that sheer horror from her mind, and though she tried to grab Rachel’s attention, the response left her speechless.
“I’ve already asked the village chief for some guards.”
“…”
“Well then.”
Ultimately, all Ariel could do was stare blankly at Rachel’s back as she followed Elden, towel in hand.
Thus, Rachel boldly proclaimed her intent, setting off toward the backyard in pursuit of her conquest.
“…….”
“…”
It was undoubtedly a bold step forward.
Much like the days heading into battle, she was stepping with determination and high aspirations.
Though the spirit driving her was different, the desire to achieve something remained the same.
There was no reason to hesitate, nor any need to stutter.
Having lived her life to claim what she sought, this step was akin to a reflex for Rachel—it felt all too familiar.
However, when faced with what she aimed to acquire, Rachel felt like a foolish girl.
Fidgeting.
Fidgeting.
Thanks to Elden looking away, it was convenient for her to dodge gazes and sit somewhat comfortably.
Yet, beneath that calm surface, the waters were swirling busily.
Much like the girl who waved her sword without knowing how to wield it, her fingers flitted around aimlessly, unsure how to behave.
If only this were a training ground, it wouldn’t feel so awkward.
On a training ground, they could have easily exchanged words under the guise of practice.
In this unfamiliar space, her already lacking conversational skills were exposed by the awkward atmosphere, and the usual coolness was heating up thanks to the warmth of the hot spring.
Fidgeting.
Fidgeting.
Ten fingers engaged in a fierce battle—though invisible beneath the surface.
“…”
“…”
Then, just as Rachel’s fingers reached an unyielding stalemate beneath the surface, Elden’s voice broke the heated silence.
“Seems like you enjoyed hot springs before?”
She stiffened.
Rachel was taken aback as if something inside her had settled with his question, but she maintained a facade of calm.
“It’s my first time.”
It was indeed her first time soaking in a hot spring.
In the past, she had only braved icy cold water under the pretense of training, and when she became a personal guard, there were no opportunities to enjoy a hot spring as servants at the mansion brought her warmed water.
She hadn’t particularly cared either way.
Had there been nothing she wished to claim now, she’d merely remark, “Their family heirlooms are literally scattered around hot springs in the Renpid volcanic region,” and idly relax instead.
“I see.”
“Why do you ask?”
“Oh, just curious.”
Thanks to Elden’s opening gambit, a few exchanges followed, and Rachel took the opportunity to pose a question.
“It seems this isn’t your first time, my lord?”
The inquiry, beneath the thin veil of a towel, was a subtle way of asking if he had ever indulged in a secret bath with a woman.
Her employer, she thought, must have had more than enough experiences, so she asked without high hopes.
“I’m a novice too.”
To Rachel’s surprise, she nearly welled up with joy at that unexpected answer. She had to resist the urge to smile uncontrollably, fighting it back with great effort.
Of course, the Elden from six months ago was a different man; he had likely lived a more excessive, impulsive life and indulged in far more than simple bathing, yet she felt elation knowing she could share a ‘first’ moment with her beloved disciple.
“Then, that’s good. Your first…”
The slip of the tongue was unintentional.
She had rushed the words out and quickly sealed her lips, but she had already let slip half of her joy, which made the heat that surrounded her soar even higher.
She felt like punching her own mouth for spilling the beans, but all she could do was nibble on her lower lip, trying to maintain her calm demeanor.
“Good? Why?”
And just like that…
“…Your first… ah, no! First instance? No…”
Rachel’s mind felt like it was about to melt from the heat, intertwining with rational thoughts, causing her to unintentionally spout foolish words.
“First accomplishment? Well, being able to enjoy a hot spring in such a small village is indeed a notable achievement.”
“….”
“First instance? Yes, it’s certainly a rare occurrence to enjoy a hot spring in such a small village.”
“….”
She was utterly helpless. Caught off guard by her clever disciple’s teasing, Rachel, the battle-hardened soldier who deftly navigated battlefields, felt a profound sense of helplessness—like her hands and feet were bound for the first time.
Furthermore, she began to wish she could escape. For the first time, the strongest female warrior, Rachel, who had always been a forward-thrusting force in her quests, had thoughts of retreat.
Trembling.
Even though her whole body was hot, a chill ran through her, reflecting her shame at being cornered. A sentiment welled up inside her; it felt as if she had been conquered, trembling at the absurdity of the situation.
Yet, that feeling was oddly… odd.
The quivering felt strange.
The sensations were odd.
Ultimately, she blurted out, “It’s too hot; I need to get up first.”
Choosing to retreat a step back, Rachel sprang to her feet!
And for the first time, Elden’s surprised voice called out, “R-Rachel?”
“……Aaah!”
The warrior, who typically only shouted commands, let out a woman’s scream. The situation, which hadn’t unfolded as planned, veered sharply into an unexpected direction.
What had broken loose was, in a teasing manner, now floating elegantly on the surface.
She hastily attempted to cover her vital areas, but it was impossible to stop the exposure of her concealed flesh before her disciple, having lost all dignity as a mentor.
All her grandeur and authority as a teacher had been stripped away. Rachel found herself tasting defeat.
And then…
“…Well, that’s rather large…”
Ariel, secretly peeking through a crack in the door, raised her hands to her chest, feeling her own modest endowments pale in comparison to Rachel’s impressive attributes.
She simply felt relieved that nothing sticky transpired between them.
Another drive for conquest was kindling within her.
November in the Northern Regions gradually saw a decrease in activity; the once-bustling streets began to quiet down.
Those who were prepared commenced their winter hibernation, while those less prepared scurried about in the relative calm.
Travel between territories sharply declined, and the once-crowded castle gates became places for guards to yawn into the sky.
As the warm seasons melted away and the expanded offerings began to freeze and contract, even the great Winterfell Duchy could not escape this change.
Pat, pat.
In the vicinity of Winterfell’s castle, the bustling marketplace—once full of life—had grown tranquil due to the cold that hampered social gatherings, with many shops selling jewels and ornaments closing well before sunset. Naturally, it was not just quiet but eerily still.
And in that street, a man wearing a wide-brimmed brown hat strolled by.
The brim was frayed and torn, and his hooded cloak resembled a rag rather than an article of clothing.
With shuffling steps, the man passed through the marketplace and turned into an alleyway.
It was a secluded place, shunned by sunlight.
As is often the case in dark, gloomy places, a group of ragged beggars had gathered there.
Most were the very ones who would soon become sacrifices to the intense cold that would blanket the northern regions.
And then…
“…”
“Cough…?”
These unfortunate souls made for excellent prey for the man.
With a fervent heart to transform their imminent, miserable deaths into noble sacrifices for his own vengeance, he used dark magic acquired at the cost of his very life to hasten their end.
“Cough…”
In this manner, the man was collecting the lives of the beggars with hands stained a dark hue, filling his own diminishing life with theirs.
And he waited.
Whether they had left the area only to return, having been captured by their fathers, or chosen to come back of their own volition.
He remained hidden beneath the lantern light, waiting quietly.
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