Prologue
Irene clutched her lips tightly as she stood in the bathroom, the sound of running water filling her ears.
Clothes stained with blood lay scattered in a heap on the floor outside the door.
From that disarray, Irene could tell that the person inside had been in such a hurry they had simply torn off their garments.
*This is strange.*
It was so unlike him.
He always kept everything perfectly organized. He had a place for every single thing in the world, never rearranged anything once it was set, and if anything ever got messy he would quietly tidy it up himself. Even clothes soaked in blood.
*But why…*
Not only the clothes were scattered. Next to the basket lay a sword engraved with the emblem of the Holy Knight Order, rolling on the floor.
The sword was something he treasured more than his own life.
As a paladin who had made a name for himself, he always put the sword first, before himself.
People often joked that the sword must be his very body, given how much he cherished it, just like the divine blade that bore his name.
But right now, the sword had rolled farther than the clothes, leaving it even more disarrayed on the floor.
*Creak.*
The sound of the valve turning stopped along with the water.
He had finished showering.
Irene tensed and looked toward the bathroom door.
When she had gone in earlier, he had been a mess of monster blood, so she had expected it to take a while…
*This quickly?*
Soon he would open the door and come out.
Just thinking about his appearance made Irene’s heart race.
It had to be him.
The man inside the bathroom was her husband.
Her legal husband, the one she could spend the night with without any problem.
*Even if it was only temporary.*
Irene and he were bound by a temporary marital relationship called a **Pair**.
The Pair.
A contract and temporary marriage recognized by the Kingdom Alliance between a knight and a purifier to clear dungeons and manage demonic energy. It began during the Night of the Contract.
Knights and purifiers formed Pairs.
The knights who entered dungeons to fight monsters often suffered wounds, both large and small.
But the bigger problem was the demonic energy spewing from the monsters.
Demonic energy slowly gnawed at a human’s mind, causing pain, hallucinations, and eventually driving the victim mad.
Once it passed a certain threshold, the person would go berserk and become a monster.
That was why the purifiers devoted themselves entirely to purifying the demonic energy of their Pairs.
The problem lay in the method of purification.
It was deceptively simple.
The closer the contact, the better.
Simple wounds healed just from holding hands.
But for deeper wounds or to fully purify the demonic energy, even more intimate contact was required.
Embracing each other, kissing… but the surest and fastest way of all was to join bodies.
In fact, knights preferred that last method the most.
Once the purification was complete, all wounds healed cleanly, the accumulated demonic energy vanished, and even temporary boosts to physical ability followed.
That was why many knights mixed with purifiers before entering a dungeon, even if they were neither injured nor poisoned.
*But… he hated even being touched.*
Irene remembered the first time she had come into contact with him.
He had been so badly wounded that any other Pair would have rushed straight to bed.
But he had stubbornly refused, insisting he only needed a little rest.
Other Pairs had whispered behind his back.
“As a purifier with such weak ability, even close contact probably won’t do anything. And mixing bodies? It will barely heal even one wound, right?”
“Even other high-rank purifiers reject him. How could he possibly accept purification from that woman?”
Surrounded by the familiar mockery that had become second nature, Irene had taken his trembling, rough hands and held them.
Holding hands was the most basic act of purification for a Pair, as natural as breathing.
But the moment she touched him, his body had jerked, then hardened like stone.
He turned his gaze away and stared at nothing until she finally let go.
‘He wouldn’t flinch like that even if he touched a monster.’
Irene swallowed her own hurt and embarrassment and poured her last drop of strength into healing him.
Thanks to her weak power, his wounds had healed a little.
He had stood up immediately and left without a word.
Unlike his usual polite goodbyes, he had simply fled.
Irene had lowered her head.
*Did he really hate it that much?*
She had only wanted to help a little, yet she had made him feel even more disgusted.
Irene’s chest ached more than the mockery she had endured.
After that, Irene had never dared touch him again.
She knew that no matter what she did, he would only become more repulsed.
*It was only natural.*
He was a paladin of the Holy Temple.
A divine sword trained through extreme ascetic training and near-death trials, built on unshakable faith.
Because of that, he had avoided women as others his age did.
To him, women were nothing more than something to keep at a distance and guard against.
*Yet I held his hand.*
Even though he was a weak purifier who could barely help at all, simply keeping his hands in mine for a long time—without showing disgust—had felt like gratitude.
*Click.*
The sound of the door opening snapped Irene out of her thoughts.
She looked up.
He was already standing outside the bathroom.
“…!”
The moment she saw him, Irene swallowed hard.
Golden hair that shimmered like sunlight mixed with honey. Thick, straight eyebrows that matched his strong personality. And beneath them, the clearest blue eyes the color of a clear autumn sky.
The perfect, flawless features that made it seem unnecessary for anyone to be this handsome.
A face that never failed to make one sigh in admiration.
But perfection was not limited to his face.
Perhaps he had come out in a hurry. Droplets of water still clung to his wet hair and slid down over his broad shoulders, tracing the tightly coiled muscles of his chest.
Following those drops of water as they flowed down his strong frame, Irene’s gaze came to a halt.
She realized what was blocking the path and let out a startled cry.
“M-Michael-nim! Your clothes…!”
Michael had only carelessly draped a single large towel around his lower body.
Irene’s face instantly flushed bright red.
As beautiful as his face was, his body was even more so.
If the god of war had manifested in this world, he would surely have possessed such a form.
His perfectly sculpted muscles were neither excessive nor lacking. His body, stripped of every unnecessary inch, held a beauty all its own.
Perhaps he had noticed the dazed gaze she was giving him.
He spoke.
“Irene.”
That pleasant, low voice that made her body shiver with every word he uttered called her name.
“Didn’t we promise not to call me ‘nim’ anymore?”
“Y-yes… but…!”
Irene could not finish her sentence.
He had already taken a long step and was now standing right beside the bed where she sat.
As the distance shrank, the outline of his body beneath the white towel grew clearer, undeniable.
*Oh my… heavens…*
Irene called upon the gods in panic.
The divine sword they called him.
He was undoubtedly the strongest. That was why the name fit.
Perhaps the title had been given simply because she had seen the part below his waist.
While she was still reeling from the thought, Michael stepped in front of her and pointed to the small wounds scattered across his body.
“These are the wounds I received from today’s dungeon.”
Wounds. They were barely scratches.
To a knight, that was nothing at all.
“Furthermore, I spent a long time in the dungeon today. It seems a lot of demonic energy has accumulated. So…”
His body, still warm with the heat of battle, drew closer to her.
The next instant, Irene’s vision spun.
When she came to, Michael’s body was already on top of hers.
“So, Irene. My Pair. My wife.”
His knees spread her slender, long legs wide apart.
The heat of battle still clung to his body where it touched hers.
Unnerved by that warmth, Irene could not speak as she helplessly parted her legs in response to his advance.
His knees climbed between her thighs and gently rubbed against the fabric covering her most private place.
Even that alone made her body tremble and a soft moan escape her lips.
It was a place he had entered many times before. As recently as yesterday, he had dug into the mark he had left and widened it until it matched his shape.
A dizzying smile spread across his handsome face.
He lowered his body slowly.
*Tap.*
Irene felt the towel he had been wearing slip off.
And she felt his massive body pressing against her legs.
The sheer mass and size made it impossible for her to catch her breath.
Right as she was losing her mind from it, Michael whispered against her ear.
“I want your purification tonight too.”
His knee pressed firmly against her secret place, rubbing in slow circles.
The wanton act made Irene shudder, and he chuckled lowly before whispering again.
“Very slowly… for a very long time.”
His words, thick with desire, left her breathless.
This felt wrong.
Something was off.
It had to be.
‘He was clearly the paladin who hated even the thought of touching me in our last life, wasn’t he?’
It had been true.
But now…