The Devil in the Fortress
“…Your hand?”
“Yes.”
It was a straightforward answer, as if questioning what else one could possibly expect.
“It is said that purification is the foundation of purification.”
“Y-yes, that is correct.”
Irene fanned her flushed face with her hand, nodding vigorously.
*What on earth was I thinking?*
Why had she assumed he would simply lead her straight to the bed?
*That was never going to happen. It is a matter that never occurred.*
It was something only she would remember from this entire world.
Irene kept pressing the backs of her hands against her burning cheeks. Yet the heat refused to subside.
“But are you certain it is all right?”
“What do you mean?”
“It is… well… I am afraid we are violating the temple’s rules…”
A holy knight visiting a woman’s room alone at such a late hour. And wanting even physical contact.
It was simply absurd to think about.
This would never have happened with Michael in the past.
At her cautious words, he seemed to sense her thoughts, his expression tightening slightly before he spoke again.
“I understand your reaction is one of shock.”
Far more than shock. It was the kind of doubt that made one question whether the man before her truly was Michael.
“Yet… I could endure it no longer. I overcame my embarrassment to come here.”
Michael raised his head to meet Irene’s gaze.
For an instant, Irene felt her heart plummet as if from an immense height—dizzying, terrifying.
Beyond the deep, blue irises swirled something far darker.
“Irene?”
Had she been staring at him too rigidly?
He called her name softly.
“Ah, I’m sorry.”
Irene hurriedly gathered her wits. But the tremor in her body refused to ease.
“Then… what exactly can one not endure?”
The question lodged itself in her mind.
What precisely was it that he could not endure?
“Ah, I see.”
His voice carried a trace of amusement.
Yet his expression remained as calm as always.
“Moreover, I have heard that thanks to being a paladin, you can purify a certain amount of demonic energy on your own…”
That was precisely why the situation felt so unnatural.
Thanks to his devout nature, he possessed holy power beyond what most priests could muster.
Holy power could suppress demonic energy, but it could not heal the wounds themselves like a purifier’s touch.
That was why Michael always retreated to the prayer room alone after dungeon raids.
He purified his demonic energy with his own divine power.
“Normally, that would be true. However…”
Michael trailed off, glancing at the table. It seemed he intended to elaborate at greater length.
Irene, realizing his meaning, had no choice but to invite him to sit.
“Would it not be better to sit and talk? One cannot stand like this all night.”
“Thank you.”
“Would you care for something to drink?”
“No, I am fine.”
She had asked only to ease the awkwardness, yet he answered briefly and turned toward the table in the center of the room.
His insistent tone left Irene no choice but to follow.
As she prepared to sit, he pulled out a chair for her so she could sit comfortably.
Only after she was seated did Michael take the opposite chair.
*His manners have not changed in the slightest.*
Ever since dungeons had appeared, knights had gone mad for rewards, discarding etiquette in favor of slaying monsters.
Complaints abounded that they should be called hunters rather than knights.
Among the knights’ remaining customs, what Michael observed now bordered on ancient.
Such conduct earned jealousy and mockery from fellow knights, and reverence and envy from purifiers.
*That is why I liked him.*
Beneath the count’s banner, she had received scant respect.
Yet even if he had disliked her, his courteous treatment of her as a noblewoman had made her heart flutter time and again.
*No longer.*
Even the old memories no longer stirred that familiar flutter.
Everything felt distant now.
Irene, eager to end the late-night rendezvous quickly, spoke first.
“So, could you explain why you require purification?”
Michael had come seeking her help because he needed it.
“Before I arrived at the fortress of the Alliance, I defeated an unstable dungeon that suddenly appeared in the Kingdom of Tirenia. Do you know of it?”
Irene nodded.
“Yes. Thanks to that, I was informed that this room and all the furnishings and meals provided are paid for by Tirenia.”
“Precisely. A dungeon had formed near the villa where the royal family was staying, placing the entire Tirenia royal line in danger.”
As he explained, Irene looked around the lavish room anew.
*That is why he poured money into it without restraint.*
Tirenia was a wealthy kingdom, blessed with fertile lands and lying along vital maritime trade routes.
Within the continent, it ranked among the most prosperous monarchies.
Once she learned that Michael had saved the royal family, Irene felt she could relax and enjoy the place more freely.
*He said not to fret over small deficiencies and simply speak freely.*
Saving the life of a royal could be considered a minor contribution.
Irene continued to listen to his words.
“The problem was that dungeon itself. Since it had formed outside the designated area, its interior was riddled with anomalies. It contained unusual monsters that had never been recorded, and the fight against them…”
He paused. Suddenly, he began unbuttoning the shirt he wore.
The sudden undressing left Irene staring with wide eyes.
Halfway through, he loosened his collar to reveal his chest.
“…”
At that moment, Irene’s breath caught.
Long, vivid scars crisscrossed his chest, as though scratched by a colossal beast’s claws.
*Those marks were not present before.*
For a week they had shared a bed, so Irene knew every inch of Michael’s body intimately.
Small wounds covered his hands and torso.
But nothing approached the size of these.
“Large wounds inflicted by an unknown-species monster. Fortunately, ordinary healer’s medicine took effect, and the wounds healed rapidly relative to their size. The issue arose afterward.”
“What issue?”
“The demonic energy is still seeping from the wound itself. Holy power can only suppress it; it refuses to vanish. Especially after entering a dungeon or when night falls, the energy grows stronger.”
Listening to his explanation, Irene noticed his eyes beneath the dim light appeared faintly red.
“I tried to suppress it with holy power today as well, but because I cleared the dungeon alone during the day, it proved stubborn. That is why I sought you out at this hour.”
“…I see.”
Now Irene understood the full gravity of the situation.
To a paladin, harboring demonic energy was an unspeakable horror.
The body and mind meant to be most pure carried the most malevolent force.
*That is why he could endure it no longer and came looking for a purifier.*
Holy power alone could not cure it. He had no choice but to rely on her touch.
Yet even for the sake of purification, he must have dreaded physical contact with the opposite sex.
So he had come in secret, avoiding all eyes.
“I understand. Could you extend one arm toward me?”
At her words, he offered his left arm without hesitation.
Irene slid her chair closer and sat near him.
“Purification is new to you, so it may feel strange at first. I will hold your hand….”
“Irene, you are not new to this either?”
“What?”
“I believed this was your first visit to the fortress, yet you know so much. You mentioned the light of purification from the Night of the Contract was unintended.”
Irene started in surprise at his question.
She could not possibly claim she had purified Michael on multiple occasions.
“Ah, that… I have known a purifier in my duchy since childhood. Wilhelmina. Her explanations have allowed me to understand the sensation of purification.”
She had thought Wilhelmina offered nothing but inconvenience. Now she sent the woman her first words of gratitude in her heart.
“Very well. I shall begin.”
Prolonging the conversation unnecessarily might allow him to notice something strange during it.
Irene gazed at his hand, which was larger than hers, took a deep breath, and clasped it firmly with her own.
*Now, slowly…*
Recalling her memories from a past life, she began to purge the demonic energy.
“Eep!”
Irene trembled with a cry.