GRP Chapter 15

Mariaeks quickly returned to sit on the bed. With her thirst slightly relieved, she finally had the leisure to look around. Her eyes were drawn to a wooden decoration hanging on the wall. It was quite large in size, yet it was strange she hadn't noticed it until now. It looked familiar somehow. Mariaeks soon remembered the same pattern had been carved on the castle gate.

Inside the circular border made of dry tree branches sat a fox. A fox's den. Mariaeks only now realized that the symbol of this massive fortress built of stone was a fox's den. It didn't match that man very well.

Even Mariaeks, who didn't know how the world worked, knew that humans preferred names that seemed strong, like "Golden Dragon's Nest" or "Underground Giant's Palm." No matter how she thought about it, "Fox's Den" seemed too weak. It looked like it would collapse with a rumble at the tremors of a frost giant turning over, and fly away at a spirit's prank. Why had they chosen such a name?

Suddenly, Mariaeks's shoulders twitched. Her pupils moved, following a presence drawing closer. That recently familiar energy like flames that seemed ready to burn everything. It was Garthe. Mariaeks carefully held her breath.

'The battle... is over.'

He was drawing closer. Beyond those walls, the main road where humans traveled, the plaza, below the castle, and climbing the stairs, all the way to the firmly closed door. It felt like her windpipe was being slowly strangled. Mariaeks stared at the rattling doorknob. Creak. The door opened with a squeaking sound, and cold air thick with the smell of blood entered.

Mariaeks and Garthe's eyes met. Despite being wrapped in a fierce energy that seemed ready to destroy or slash something at any moment, his face looked no different than before he'd left. Not a single eyebrow was furrowed, nor did he seem tired. If not for the blood splattered here and there on his face, his sharp pupils, and the clearly felt bloodlust, it would be hard to believe he'd just returned from battle.

Mariaeks sat on the bed and straightened her back. She placed her slightly trembling left hand beneath her right. Garthe approached her step by step. His boots covered in snow and blood touched Mariaeks's toes. Whether from the cold or not wanting contact, Mariaeks's feet curled inward.

"Did you guard the house well?"

Mariaeks barely managed to nod.

"Well done."

Garthe smiled with narrowed eyes. Though he exuded bloodlust, his words were affectionate. His emotions were ambiguous and his actions unpredictable. Not knowing how to deal with him, Mariaeks desperately tried to read the situation.

Garthe suddenly lowered his body and crouched down. Mariaeks looked down at him, unable to swallow or blink. Garthe casually brushed aside the gaze reaching him and bit the end of his glove with his teeth to pull his hand out. In the tense atmosphere, a large hand etched with scars here and there grabbed Mariaeks's foot. Though he'd trudged through a blizzard, the man's hand was hot as if boiling. Mariaeks had to exert great willpower to leave her foot—which instinctively wanted to flinch—in his grasp like a lifeless object.

Holding Mariaeks's foot, Garthe tilted his head left and right, slowly stretching his neck. He seemed to be relieving battle fatigue. Mariaeks's cold foot gradually melted into Garthe's boiling body heat. And around that time, the piercing bloodlust and roughly radiating divine power also began to gradually subside.

A bit more time passed. Garthe, who had been keeping his gaze downward, slowly closed and opened his eyes. The sharpness reflected in his pupils also became as calm as a windless night sea, starting from when he closed and opened his eyes.

"Hmm."

The corners of Garthe's mouth lifted.

"Interesting..."

His tone didn't sound amused at all. Though the violent energy had subsided, Mariaeks couldn't quite let down her guard. Her opponent was more difficult to understand than unpredictable disasters—he was human.

As Garthe bowed his head to look down, a drop of blood beaded on his chin fell onto the back of Mariaeks's foot. Garthe wiped the blood away with the back of his hand. Everywhere his touch landed froze with tension.

Garthe began rummaging through his pockets. Mariaeks imagined a viciously shaped weapon or restraints like shackles would emerge. Contrary to her expectations, what he pulled from his pockets was a square white foot wrap and small leather shoes.

"Lift your foot."

With practiced hands, Garthe wrapped the white cloth around Mariaeks's foot and fitted the leather boots over it. After even tying the laces in a ribbon shape, he stood up abruptly. Mariaeks's gaze briefly followed Garthe upward. Garthe carelessly brushed off the snow piled on his head with his hand, then roughly threw off the coat with abundant gray fur onto the floor. Then he walked to the table Mariaeks had wiped earlier and scraped his boots against the corner to knock off the snow clumped with blood and straw. Could there be a clearer sign that business was finished?

The man seemed busy with his careless grooming. Mariaeks lowered her tense gaze to look at the leather shoes he'd put on her. Though slightly loose, the skill in stitching the tanned leather layers together was extraordinary. And what about that flower-shaped embroidery? It was as delicate as viewing snow crystals. They were pretty shoes. Mariaeks's feelings upon seeing them were...

'Is he insane?'

A suspicious gaze turned toward Garthe. To enter brimming with bloodlust, then do something like personally putting on pretty shoes. Gods might be as fickle as boiling jam, but this wasn't at that level. The man's mind must be going back and forth. Samthyeon had said he wanted to research the great god of Heimdrykze, but Mariaeks thought Garthe seemed even more suitable as a research subject.

Mariaeks observed that suitable research subject. A fishy smell wafted strongly—the tunic beneath his coat was also covered in blood. Garthe, who had loosened the leather cord at his waist, grabbed the hem of his tunic and pulled it up. Candlelight drew the man's outline in light. Broad shoulders and back, the thick waistline following down the spine. The man's body armed with muscle brought to mind a predator hiding its presence in darkness and wind. Even the large and small scars left here and there.

Garthe, who had roughly wiped his body with the removed tunic, turned back and walked toward Mariaeks. His rippling abs and solid, broad chest were revealed. Mariaeks stared intently at the scar carved above his chest. The mark where Mariaeks had stabbed—no, where Garthe had grabbed her wrist and stabbed himself. The clear sensation from that moment seemed to wash over her again. Her fingertips tingled.

Garthe passed by without even glancing at Mariaeks. After rummaging through the nightstand beside the bed, he pulled out a neatly folded tunic, put it on, and tied his waist with the leather cord. His grooming finished simply. Garthe swept up his disheveled hair and stood before Mariaeks again.

"Shall we go?"

Garthe acted as if there had been a prior arrangement. Not having the courage to ask where they were going, Mariaeks followed the man walking ahead and left the room.

The castle's interior with night descended was dim and dark. Candlesticks hung at wide intervals illuminated the long corridor without windows. Mariaeks followed Garthe, walking the corridor for quite some time. When they descended the spiral staircase, the sound of people murmuring could be heard. Perhaps because of the recent battle, the castle's atmosphere was unsettled, unsuited to the hour.

At the point where corridor met corridor, Samthyeon popped out abruptly. As if he'd predicted Garthe would come down around this time, he calmly acknowledged them with a look.

"Lady Mariaeks."

Samthyeon handed Mariaeks something white he held in his hand. It was a coat with fur like the one Garthe had been wearing. The fur was white and the leather was white. Whatever processing method they'd used, it was very smooth and soft, and despite being thin, surprisingly warm.

"Is this from the wolf you hunted last time?"

Samthyeon whispered something to Garthe with his mouth covered. Mariaeks didn't see it.

'Wolf fur...'

Mariaeks touched the fur with distaste. Fortunately, it was coarser than Ullri and Baen's fur. Samthyeon, having presented the pretty cloak, disappeared without a greeting as if his business was done. Garthe also began walking ahead, so Mariaeks hurriedly wrapped the cloak around herself and followed him. The noisy sounds heard from afar grew louder. The place where light escaped between the gaps of doors and stone walls seemed to be their destination.

"Wahaha!"

"Uhaha!"

"Uhehe!"

The wide space was packed with people. They were the rough-looking humans with rough-looking weapons she'd seen when opening the window. Mariaeks was inwardly surprised. She hadn't known when viewing from afar. Every single person in this space was not an ordinary human. They all held divine power more massive and stronger than their robust-looking bodies.

"Huh? The Anir?"

Someone spotted Garthe and made a dazed sound. In that moment, heavy silence descended on the space that had been filled with endless laughter. Mariaeks noticed the humans were quite intimidated by Garthe.

"Why, why did you come?"

One man spilled words straight from his brain in his confusion. You crazy bastard. A woman standing behind him struck his back with a thud.

"Was it... too noisy? Should we talk with our mouths closed?"

The woman who'd just scolded another also spouted nonsense. Everyone was clearly flustered, even terrified, rambling incoherently.