The steam in the bathroom had combined with Mirel's trembling breath to become suffocating. "Let me purify you," she had said. But her hands didn't just reach for the towel.
She lowered the thin straps on her shoulders. The fabric fell silently onto the wet floor. She stood before me in the steam, vulnerable and completely naked.
I wanted to look away, but damn Clarean's body betrayed me. My heart began to beat like a sledgehammer in my chest.
I felt my blood heating up, a familiar but alien primal hunger spreading down from my stomach. This wasn't my desire; it was this body's memory. It was physical proof of what this scumbag had done to this girl before, how he had conditioned her.
"Please, Master..." Mirel took a step toward me, her voice pleading. Her eyes were brimming with tears. "Don't reject me. This is the only way I can show my love, my loyalty... I'm not good at anything else. Please don't make me feel useless."
The animalistic impulse in my mind whispered, "Take her. She wants this. She is yours."
"Cut it out!" I screamed, but my voice was directed inward, not outward. Outward, rage spilled over.
"Enough!" I shouted. My voice echoed in the bathroom.
Mirel flinched and pulled back, cowering in fear. "Master... Did I do something wrong? I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"
My anger wasn't directed at her. It was at myself. At this body, this situation, this twisted order... I stopped fighting it. I suppressed that primal impulse with Leon's compassion.
I reached down, picked up the towel from the floor, and wrapped it around her trembling shoulders. Then I pulled her close and hugged her. This wasn't a sexual contact; it was like a brother hugging his scared sister.
Mirel went rigid. When the harsh touch she expected, the roughness she expected, didn't come, she didn't know what to do.
"I know..." I whispered into her hair. "I know, Mirel. This seems normal to you. Maybe I... the old me, taught you that the only way to show your love was through your body. Maybe I forced you, maybe I made you believe that."
Mirel began to sob.
"But listen to me," I said, holding her by the shoulders and looking into her eyes. "This is not the way to show your love. And for me... you don't need to do something like this for me. I'm not going to abandon you just because you don't get into my bed. I'm not going to throw you out on the street."
"But..." she stammered. "Sister Sera... The others... Our duty..."
"Not anymore," I said firmly. "I will allow this just this once. Just wash me. Scrub my back. But we will not go beyond that. Never."
The fear in Mirel's eyes slowly faded, replaced by a peace she couldn't quite comprehend.
It was an embarrassing, silent, but strangely innocent bathing session. Her hands trembled as she washed me, but her touch no longer held that sickly desire to "serve"; there was only gratitude.
When I came out of the bathroom, I was wearing a clean, white linen shirt and dark trousers. My hair was wet.
Sera was leaning against the wall right next to the door, waiting for us. She straightened up as soon as she saw me.
Her eyes slid first to me, then to Mirel, who came out behind me with a flushed face. A poisonous, mocking smile appeared on her lips.
"Did you have fun, Master?" she said, her voice sharp and cold as a knife. "Since you were able to do these things with a sober head, without getting drunk... Maybe losing your memory was a good thing. You used to need at least a bottle of wine."
Jealousy. Pure, undistilled, dangerous jealousy.
Just as I was about to open my mouth, Mirel jumped in from behind me. "We didn't do anything!" she said quickly. Her voice was so clear that Sera was surprised. "Sister Sera, I swear... We just washed. Master... didn't touch me."
That tense mask on Sera's face dropped for a moment. Her shoulders relaxed. She was relieved. But immediately after, those suspicious eyes returned.
I walked towards Sera. I stopped when there was a step of distance between us. "Sera," I said seriously. "I don't know what I used to do with you, under what conditions we had this kind of relationship. But we are starting from zero."
I let my gaze wander over both of them. "Don't try to show that you love me with these kinds of things. I am not a brothel patron. I am your... family. That's what you said, isn't it?"
Sera couldn't answer. She just swallowed.
My gaze drifted back to her leg, to that bloody bandage. I knelt in front of her. Sera panicked.
"Master! What are you doing? Please get up, a noble does not bow before a maid!"
I didn't listen to her. I placed my hand on her injured knee. Sera flinched. Her breath hitched.
But when I looked at her face expecting it to crumple in pain, I saw a strange, sickly pleasure. Her eyes rolled back, her lips parted.
"Are you... punishing me?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "You didn't forget this... You are making me pay the price for my carelessness, aren't you?"
My stomach turned. Masochistic maniac, I thought in horror. What did this man do to this girl? He made her think pain is a reward, violence is attention!
"No," I said harshly, but I didn't pull my hand away. "I am not punishing. I am healing."
Magic, I said internally. Handle this.
That warm golden light radiated from my palm again. The torn tissue in Sera's knee knit together rapidly under the light. The bleeding stopped, the bruises faded.
That expression of "pleasure" on Sera's face was replaced by pure astonishment.
I stood up. "From now on," I said, looking into her eyes. "No one punishes anyone in this house. Suffering is not a sign of loyalty. Is that understood?"
Sera looked at me, holding her healing knee. For the first time, she was looking at me not like an "owner," but like an incomprehensible "miracle."
Then that smell hit my nose. Sera's breath. It smelled of soured, cheap wine. I grimaced.
"And one more thing," I said. "Throw away all the alcohol in the house... immediately. I don't want to see a single drop."
Sera stammered in surprise. "B-but Master... Your wine cellar... They were your only consolation."
"Not anymore," I said, and turned my back.
When I entered Lysa's room, the young girl was trying to sit up in her bed. She tried to compose herself when she saw me.
"Master..."
"Stay calm," I said, going to her and gently pressing on her shoulders. "Don't get up. I just came to see how you are." I put my hand on her forehead. Her fever had gone down.
Her color was returning. Lysa leaned her head against my hand. She closed her eyes. "Master..." she whispered. "You... seem like someone else."
My hand hung in the air. My heart skipped a beat for a moment. Did she realize?
"Is that so?" I said, trying to keep my voice natural. I looked into her eyes. "Does this bother you, Lysa? This 'new' version of me?"
Lysa opened her eyes. She looked so innocent, so sincere that all the doubts inside me melted away.
"No," she said, smiling. "I love you in every form, Master. In your angry form, and in your compassionate form... You are my savior."
I took a deep breath. "I forgot what we did before, Lysa," I said honestly. "Maybe I was a bad person. Maybe I upset you. But a voice inside me... tells me you are my family. And I haven't forgotten that."
A tear slid from Lysa's eye.
Sera and Mirel appeared at the door. They were watching us too. I needed to disperse the emotional intensity in the room. My stomach grumbled.
"Alright," I said, clapping my hands. "Enough sentimentality. I'm starving like a wolf. Let's have a nice meal downstairs with everyone."
The room fell into silence. Lysa shrank back into the bed. Mirel bowed her head. Sera dug her nails into her palm.
"What happened?" I said, furrowing my brows.
Sera cleared her throat. "Master... There is no... food."
"What do you mean there is none?"
"We have no money," Sera said, her voice trembling with shame. "The pantry is empty. We made bread with the last sack of flour yesterday morning. That's gone too. Not a single penny in the safe. Except for a few vegetables we planted in the courtyard... we have nothing."
Leon's mind stalled. Great. Not only am I a fallen noble who lost his memory; I am also a wretch about to starve to death.
But then, that title Sera mentioned earlier came to my mind. Faryel. A warrior who saved the queen nine years ago.
If this body possessed those reflexes...
I smiled. It wasn't a desperate smile. It was a challenging smile.
"In that case," I said, turning to Sera. "Get ready with me, Sera. We are going out."
Sera looked surprised. "Out? What will we do, Master? Go down to the town and ask for credit? No one lends to us anymore."
"We aren't going to beg," I said. The glimmer in my eyes made Sera take a step back. "If we don't have money, nature will pay its debt to us."
"What do you mean?"
"We are going to hunt," I said. "The market isn't the only way to eat, Sera. The forest is right there." I pointed to the door with my hand. "Arrange suitable clothes and tools for me. A sword, a bow, a dagger... Whatever there is. I don't care if they are rusty."
Sera, Mirel, and Lysa in the bed looked at me in astonishment. The Clarean they knew hadn't picked up a sword in years. He was a wreck who never left his room, only drank and whined.
But now, standing before them was a man with the glint of a hunter in his eyes, not hunger.
"As you command, Master," Sera said. For the first time, there was neither fear nor pity in her voice; there were crumbs of respect.