Holy Night: My Husband is Definitely a Paladin - Chapter 166

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What should I do? Should I tell him what I was thinking or not?

While Irene hesitated, he rested his chin on her shoulder, nuzzling her cheek.

The gesture reminded her of a large dog trying to soothe its owner’s mood. Irene found herself leaning her head against his and opening her mouth to speak.

“It’s just… I find it strange that things turned out like this with you.”

“By ‘like this’, you mean…”

“Spending the entire day shamelessly tangled together with someone who’s supposed to be the purest, most virtuous holy knight. I feel like none of this would have happened if you hadn’t been tainted by miasma.”

It was a thought she had been carrying for a long time.

If Michael hadn’t been tainted by miasma, he would never have sought purification in the first place.

That was why Irene constantly worried—what if his scar healed completely and he regained his full rationality? Would he start to reject her?

“So you think I was reluctant to hold you, and only did so because of this scar?”

“…Yes.”

All he did was confirm her thoughts, yet her voice trembled as she answered.

In truth, she believed it. In her previous life, hadn’t he avoided her gaze desperately, flinching whenever their hands so much as brushed, and then running away?

Even in this life, she was sure he would have acted the same way if not for the scar.

“Hm.”

Michael seemed to ponder her answer for a moment before lowering his hand between her legs.

“If the miasma had clouded my judgment, I wouldn’t hesitate. I’d mindlessly dig into this small space right now.”

“Ah…”

“You might not understand as a purifier, but miasma drives only lust, and relationships formed under its influence rarely involve pleasure. It’s purely about thrusting, stroking, and releasing. Then doing it all over again. There’s no room for any other thought.”

His hand, which had briefly ventured lower, retreated.

“So, in short… actions like this wouldn’t even occur to me.”

His hand moved to her flat stomach, caressing it slowly.

Even that light touch sent shivers down her spine, memories of the pleasure he had given her rushing back.

He stroked her body as if handling a precious piece of porcelain, his hands gentle and deliberate.

He kissed her shoulder and cheek repeatedly.

While the intention was undeniably intimate, his touch wasn’t driven by lust.

It felt more like he was at a loss, simply overwhelmed with affection for Irene as she rested in his arms.

Even as his arousal grew evident beneath him, there was no sign of his usual intent to push inside her.

After a while, Michael turned Irene around to face him, her breath still uneven.

He raised his hand to wipe the water droplets from her face.

His expression was heartbreakingly sorrowful, as though he were someone whose true feelings had been misunderstood.

“I’m sorry for making you think I only want your body. I just… thought that was the way to express love. And of course, I won’t deny how much joy I’ve found in you physically.”

He let out a long sigh.

“But if I had known those thoughts were troubling you, I would never have done it again…”

His face twisted with a series of bitter smiles, as if the thought of giving her the wrong impression pained him deeply.

Then, glancing at his still-hard arousal even in this somber moment, he muttered almost to himself,

“Maybe it would be better if I just cut it off.”

Irene gasped in shock, her voice rising.

“What are you saying?!”

She moved to sit up in the tub, but as her hand slipped on his thigh…

“Ah!”

Her hand accidentally grabbed onto him, firmly clutching his fully e***t length.