The Villainess Proposed a Contractual Marriage

Harte had spent the past few days in a daze.

Even on the morning after the Founding Day festival's excitement had completely faded, he spent the entire day sitting and staring at the ceiling. His duties as Holy Knight Commander had long since taken a backseat.

The Holy Knights gossiped about Harte's behavior.

"What's gotten into the Commander lately?"

"He's the last person you'd expect to slack off, yet he's openly goofing around during work hours..."

"I thought someone was dressed up as him to mess with us."

When the commander grew lax, it was inevitable that discipline among the Holy Knights would loosen. Though everyone at the temple noticed the change, Harte's attitude remained unchanged.

Ibria, who felt compelled to see Harte at least once a day, was the first to notice his change. Her concern for him ran especially deep.

"Erehite, why do you think Harte's been acting so strangely lately?"

"You're right... But I can't figure out why. When I asked him, he just shook his head like he was flustered."

[Hmm, could it be...]

As Erehite made a thoughtful sound, Ibria leaned in closer.

"What is it? Do you have an idea?"

[Well, I'm not sure if it's just a guess... But isn't it something that all humans naturally go through?]

"Is there such a thing?"

[There is.]

Erehite narrowed his golden eyes, gazing at the Holy Knights' quarters.

[A terrifying condition called... burnout.]

"... What?"

[Think about it. Is there anyone else in the world who lives as transparently and honestly as Harte, ignoring their own needs and only fulfilling their duties? Whether dragon or demon, such a person would be unheard of.]

"That's true..."

[It's hard to believe because it's 'the' Harte, but I think this time has come, as it would for any human.]

"Your words make sense, Erehite."

Harte held himself to an incredibly high standard. In contrast, he showed a lenient side to others, not because of his understanding nature, but because he simply assumed everyone else lived like him.

In this respect, Harte's worldview was surprisingly self-centered to an extreme degree.

Aware of this, Ibria's curiosity grew even more intense.

"I wonder what Harte is thinking right now..."

[He's such an extraordinary person, I have no way of knowing.]

Ibria and Erehite sighed in unison, united in their concern for Harte. They say when a person suddenly changes, it means they're about to die, but since Harte was unlikely to die, it only made them worry more.

... Meanwhile, back in the Holy Knights' quarters, Harte seemed to be counting the ceiling's lattice patterns.

The strongest defender of humanity and an irregular existence himself. A man who had lived up to his baptismal name all too well.

Worthy of all these accolades, he sat on a chair as rigid as his nature, lost in deep thought.

"Thighs..."

---

---

On a night when the chirping of insects invaded the silence.

After the former Duke Cardi chose seclusion and Elphisia inherited the title, the atmosphere of House Luminel completely transformed.

First, the talkative servants were fired en masse, leaving only those who could keep quiet to continue their work silently. With even these drastically reduced staff members staying quiet, House Luminel became an extremely still place.

Thus, the dim night was perfect for concealing the hidden side of House Luminel.

"Is this all for today..."

Elphisia surveyed the blood stains and corpses strewn across her bedroom. Still-warm blood dripped from the sword in her hand, and the scent of blood seeped from her red chemise dress.

The assassins who stubbornly kept crawling in, seemingly without tiring, had become almost routine.

She wasn't even curious anymore about who sent them.

Surely each of her political opponents had attempted at least one assassination.

Since Elphisia took over as head of the family, the duchy's course had changed dramatically. She turned to business with their vast accumulated wealth, creating success stories with everything she touched. Currently, there was virtually no family that could challenge House Luminel's power.

The problem was that the process had been ruthless.

The family's expansion, which disregarded human rights and morality, bred numerous enemies. Among them was even the Empress Dowager, who held the highest power in the land.

Having finally put the First Prince Rupehit on the throne as Emperor, she viewed Elphisia, who threatened her position, with displeasure.

'The only one who still doesn't know when to give up and sends night visitors must be the Empress Dowager.'

Elphisia snapped her fingers nonchalantly. Suddenly, a robust man dressed entirely in black appeared and bowed his head.

"You called, Your Grace?"

"You've cleaned up outside properly, right?"

"Yes."

The black-haired, black-eyed youth - Glen Baskhill - added dispassionately:

"I've cut all their tendons and locked them in the basement."

"Hmm."

Elphisia stared at her seemingly obedient assassin. His utter stillness suggested he had made all preparations. Realizing this, Elphisia violently struck Glen's face with her scabbard without hesitation.

Thwack!

The brutal impact echoed through the death-filled room.

Glen staggered briefly before regaining his balance.

Though his ears rang severely, he didn't show it. Glen only hoped his mistress would tire of venting her frustrations quickly.

At last, Elphisia spoke in a low voice.

"I told you to kill them all."

"... I thought they might be useful."

"We have a prophet here. I'll give you a task worthy of your considerate foresight. Go to the dungeon immediately and torture them to reveal who's behind this."

"..."

Glen maintained a motionless posture, remaining silent. Not out of disrespect for Elphisia, but out of shame for having his true intentions exposed.

Elphisia was his benefactor who had rescued him from a hellish childhood. Thus, he had lived with the mindset of carrying out anything for her sake. Even if that duty came back as endless killing.

But at some point, he began to feel reluctant about hurting people.

If there was a turning point, it would be Askalion, formerly known as the Third Prince.

His presence gradually emerged like a sprout in the light, his actions helping people shining brightly. It was completely opposite to Glen, who acted as a human butcher in the shadows.

The emotion he felt upon facing Askalion seemed to border on self-loathing.

He suddenly felt relieved that a half-dragon was guarding him. After all, Askalion was the first target Glen had ever felt reluctant to kill.

... Of course, the price of failure was harsh.

"What are you staring at?"

"..."

"It's an order. Torture those people you saved to find out who's behind this."

"...... Yes, Your Grace."

They would soon spill the truth. But Elphisia would deny that truth to the end and order repeated torture.

It was one of her methods of taming Glen.

When he disobeyed orders, she didn't punish him directly, but rather forced him to hurt others. Each time, Glen was overcome with the urge to be tortured in their place instead. Though his senses had dulled after piling up countless killings, even his inherently good nature couldn't be completely overturned.

Even when he felt on the verge of collapse, he couldn't escape.

Elphisia was the only place Glen could return to.

She had long since investigated and confirmed that Glen was of Baskhill lineage.

There was no way to break that strong collar.

"... I'll take my leave, Your Grace."

Glen pulled his hood over his face, swollen from the scabbard blow.

That night, Glen beheaded all the assassins he had locked in the dungeon.

---

---

The time arrived when the crisp morning sunlight penetrated the predawn dew.

The Holy Knight Order's schedule was tighter than that of ordinary priests. They participated in worship services just like priests, but also trained on top of that. Perhaps if not for the high salary, there would have been a flood of resignations.

Of course, Harte, the Holy Knight Commander, was no exception.

He sat in the front row worshipping the Lord, hands clasped tightly and eyes closed.

"At least our Commander pulls himself together during worship."

"He's consistent in this way..."

"I wonder if I'd be like that too if I had a baptismal name."

Various comments circulated, but the consensus was that Harte's devotion remained unchanged.

Their interpretation wasn't entirely wrong.

Indeed, Harte was undoubtedly pleading to the Lord for answers.

'Oh Lord... Is this truly a trial? Or is it a revelation to venture into the secular world? In my ignorance, I... I simply cannot... fathom Your will.'

But what truly needed divine revelation was something else entirely.

'What in the world are thighs? What are thighs? I, who have cultivated 32 long years of discipline, have lusted after a woman. What's more, that woman occasionally appears in my dreams...'

Harte, having lost his reason, had no restraint.

Forgetting even that the subject was too embarrassing for the omnipotent Lord to answer, he begged and begged again.

Midway through, Harte noticed something odd.

'Wait... Begged and begged again...?'

At that moment, Harte, who had been engrossed in prayer, abruptly stood up.

Bang!

The knights were taken aback by his unexpected action.

"C-Commander?"

"Wait! Commander Harte, where are you going!"

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump!

Leaving behind the stunned knights as if they'd seen a ghost, Harte left the chapel.

His destination was near the evergreen where Ibria rested.

Ibria furrowed her brow slightly at Harte, who approached with a serious expression.

"Huh... Harte? Isn't this when the Holy Knight Order should be at worship?"

"... Something more important came to mind."

"Hmm? You have something more important than worship?"

"Yes."

Ibria was genuinely surprised by his unequivocal answer.

"Ibria. You mentioned before that you know a lot about worldly matters."

"Mentioned is a bit much... I probably know more than you, though?"

"That's fortunate."

Harte took a couple of deep breaths before continuing.

"Haah... I think I'll rely on that knowledge of yours."

"Well, you need to tell me what it is first."

Ibria should have pretended not to know.

She would come to deeply regret her naive response at this moment.

"... I want you to help me identify a specific person."