SALP Chapter 16

Unbelievable. She frowned, flabbergasted.

"You'll make a wonderful husband someday."

Thank goodness you won't be my husband.

"If you understand, stop standing there and come here, prisoner."

He gestured languidly with his head.

"How long are you going to do this?"

Even at her scolding, he smiled while flicking the empty glass with his finger to make a light sound. Ting.

"I told you. Until Gebimonde comes to take you."

Derek Gebimonde.

Lanthe glared fiercely at Vigo without a word.

"Why? Isn't sleeping next to me better than next to Gebimonde? I'm younger and have a better body. Naturally I'm better in strength too."

As he ostentatiously covered himself with the blanket and lay down, his chest rising and falling grandly, his leisurely attitude showed not a speck of pity or concern for her circumstances. Let alone any guilt about holding her weakness and treating her as a prisoner.

"Ha..."

Even so, for Lanthe, Vigo wasn't as terrible as Derek Gebimonde, that man. Even a corrupted, mean-spirited hometown friend wasn't even a threat compared to that man. Though she'd been suspecting until moments ago that he might have become just another villain, once they were actually talking, her wariness faded.

"Don't casually bring up that disgusting name like it's a joke from now on."

Lanthe drained the last sip of wine remaining in the glass and climbed onto the bed. She lay down with her back to him, growling softly:

"I hate even hearing that unlucky name. If you keep saying it, I think I'll end up hating you too."

Though she only pulled one corner so it wouldn't reach Vigo, the blanket was generous enough to be wrapped around herself.

She closed her eyes under the covers and tried to empty her complicated head.

'It's best not to think about worries in the deep of night.'

Let's think after sleeping.

'Then when can I worry? I have so, so many worries about life.'

'Worries should be shared after sleeping soundly while looking at the brightly risen sun. Imagining it's the face of an angel.'

Let's sleep now.

Let's think again tomorrow about how to accept Vigo. How much to trust and how much to guard against—again tomorrow.

"Then tell me."

"......"

"If you just tell me why that man is obsessed with you, I won't ask anymore."

"......"

"What he demanded that made you run away."

In Vigo's low voice asking about matters with Derek, there was an edge she hadn't felt until earlier. A cold, sharp edge that seemed capable of emotionlessly cutting off even a young boy's leg.

"I don't understand. You have nothing, and that man has the ability to fill everything you lack. Not only that. Why you rejected even unto death a man who as a male has never failed to conquer a woman."

"...Because that man killed my mother, Vigo."

She told him again words that, despite her desperate appeals all this time, seemed not to have entered his ears.

"So what."

He asked back without a moment's hesitation.

"To Gebimonde, she was just someone else's mother."

As if it were insignificant.

"It's not like he killed his own mother. Do you think there's anyone with power who hasn't killed one or two other people's parents?"

Lanthe was at a loss for words.

His subdued voice didn't seem to be making a simple cynical remark or joke. It sounded as if this was true of everyone in this world, as if he himself was the same.

"If all those with power think nothing of harming others, I'll only associate with people who have no power or strength."

"Even if not a special person with power, as long as you're a man living on this land, circumstances are all similar. You're fortunate as long as they're not the lowest scum who kills their own family."

"You don't need to pick out my marriage prospects for me."

"Derek Gebimonde supposedly does everything his women ask for, for all that."

"Is that sort of thing the Penmark standard for a good man?"

Lanthe sat up abruptly and looked down at him.

Are you serious? Are you really saying such things with a serious face right now?

"If you're too picky, it's hard to survive, Lanthe."

He said, looking at her while lying with his head propped on his arm.

"If that's all men are, I don't need one. I heard in Floretta there are many people who don't marry and live on their own abilities."

"You'll never live there."

Silence. The two stared at each other without speaking or moving. A gaze that seemed to probe and mock settled between them like an unyielding wall. If not for the occasional crack, crack of sparks flying from the fireplace and the faintly flickering candlelight shadows, it would have felt like time had stopped.

Now he looked like a strange man who only slightly resembled the angel-like boy.

A wicked man with a fierce body and hardened soul.

A man she absolutely didn't want to lie with.

But a man holding something like her lifeline, considering whether to cut it or not.

"...Talk about anything. If you don't like Newbella, Roas stories are fine too."

When you don't have ears to listen anyway.

Lanthe pulled the covers over herself again and lay down, pressing her lips tightly shut.

"Hmm. You've become less talkative. In the old days, when it was just you and me, you'd talk by yourself."

Though she'd just lain down, she bristled and turned her body back to glare at him fiercely. While pulling the blanket up to her neck as a shield and hugging it tightly.

"That's not true! I didn't talk alone! You've been really talkative with me since way back too. Look, you're talking a ton right now too."

"Did I?"

He grinned inappropriately.

Only she got worked up, boiling inside. She'd fallen for his obvious manipulation and engaged with him again.

"...Why was that little kid brought in earlier?"

She need to ask even if just out of resentment before she sleep.

"What kid?"

When she glared at him silently, he blinked for a moment before seeming to remember something and replying, "Ah."

"It's not your concern."

"What will happen to him? Did he steal or something?"

"Do you have enough leisure right now to interfere with and sympathize over every little rat I catch nibbling at my land?"

She really never imagined he'd become an adult who insulted people this way.

"Derek called us little rats too, Vigo."

She continued in a voice so low it seemed about to fade.

"He killed us like culling vermin while calling us little rats. But we're human. We're clearly human. Not rats, and we don't carry disease. We and you are all the same humans."

"...That kid you saw committed a very bad crime. A crime deserving of stern punishment."

He also spoke in a low voice like a whisper. His eyes seemed to waver slightly. As if conflicted about whether to speak or not, he spoke haltingly:

"I'm the lord of Hermea. I have a duty to protect this land. Taking various circumstances into account and showing mercy to criminals isn't my role. If I were a 'king,' pretending to be generous would cause no problem whatsoever in keeping my position, but I'm not. When I show mercy to someone who broke my law, I must be prepared to also show mercy to whoever will someday cut my neck and steal this position."

"Is being a lord a position you have to keep even doing such things?"

She didn't quite understand. Hermea wasn't even his homeland. She couldn't understand—though she didn't know how he became lord—that he would want to maintain power even to the point of harming people.

"You're suffering too."

Because he'd been a child more kind and tearful than anyone.

"Aren't you?"

She couldn't believe this man enduring and living in such a harsh world, this man looking at her coldly as she said these things.

"I envy your innocence."

He reached out and lightly brushed Lanthe's cheek with his thumb.

"It's tempting."

"Don't."

Lanthe turned her body again and buried her cheek in the pillow. Though he'd only touched her cheek, her heart pounded hard.

A strange man.

A man with hands like a brutal bandit and rude touching habits.

"...I'm not suffering at all."

His voice resonating from behind vibrated against her body.

"Children, women, the elderly, clergy. Even those types that thug order would go mad and rampage over if touched—if they break my law, I treat them and deal with them exactly the same as those who bring their swords against me. Very fairly. And then I feel the reward of having cleaned the environment by sweeping away trash that's nothing but harm to the world. How could I suffer doing work that deserves thanks."

She closed her eyes tightly and wrapped her ears with the blanket.

If she stayed awake like this, becoming immersed in thoughts, she felt she might come to hate even herself.

Herself, making calculations like whether Derek Gebimonde might be included in 'removing trash that's nothing but harmful to the world' that Vigo spoke of, and whether he could eliminate that man if she convinced him.

When she woke to the blue dawn light with sleep-blurred eyes, she was left alone in the bed.

"Awake?"

Vigo was about to leave the room. With an attendant's help, he was wearing protective gear or something on his arms and legs. Already fully dressed with a long vest-like leather armor donned.

"Don't go outside the castle. While I'm gone."

He's going to fight.

"...Going far?"

Who are you fighting?

"The Northern Sea."

Ah.

"Are you going to fight those foreigners called Berkin or something?"

When she bombarded him with questions in succession with dazed eyes, he chuckled. Pfft.

"Probably."

What? What's with that half-hearted answer?

Lanthe sat wrapped in the blanket, looking at him with swollen eyes.

The more thorough armament than usual made her heart stir—she couldn't help it. She couldn't take her eyes off his every action as he finished donning all his armor, checked his sword once, and sheathed it. Was it dangerous work? Of course it would be, since it's combat. She heard murmuring sounds from within her heart.

No. It'll be fine. He stands on the ruling side. He must have lived as one who conquers and wins. That's how he must have seized this position, surpassing a childhood spent as a foreign ethnic.

"Nina said you're incredibly strong."

"Right. I've never lost once."

Vigo affirmed immediately. While watching him smile boastfully, even as Lanthe made a sour expression, she didn't know if the bitterness that he'd always trampled others was greater than her relief.