Holy Night: My Husband is Definitely a Paladin - Chapter 185
âWhy⊠is it like this?â
When Michael had first entered the purifiersâ accommodations, he had been struck by the lavish decor and gleaming walls.
It was the residence of purifiersâindividuals who brought wealth to the Alliance of Kingdoms. Naturally, their quarters were the most elegant, pristine, and comfortable within the fortress.
The excessive splendor had made Michael uncomfortable upon arrival.
The grand temple where he had lived was imposing in its architecture, but it was simple and unadorned, reflecting the piety of its worshippers.
âAt least Irene must have been comfortable here,â he had thought.
In a place this luxurious, her room was surely just as spacious and beautiful as the rest.
Thinking so, he had followed the maid leading the way. But as they walked, the surroundings began to change.
The bright, polished wallpaper faded away, replaced by plain, worn walls.
The wide hallways narrowed, and the plush carpeted floors gave way to creaking wooden boards.
Large, sunlit windows shrank to small slits, and the sweeping views of the fortress gardens disappeared, replaced by the stark wall of an annex building just outside.
The further they went, the more dismal and shabby the environment became, leaving Michael disoriented as he hurried to keep up with the maid.
Suddenly, he realized why it all felt so hauntingly familiar.
Now, standing in the room, he heard the maid speak behind him.
âThere isnât much left, just that bag over there. If youâd like, we can dispose of it for youâŠâ
âNothing will be discarded.â
He replied coldly.
Discard her belongings? How could he throw away things she had touched with her own hands?
His tone froze the maid, who quickly stammered something about calling for assistance if needed before practically fleeing the room.
Michael stood in the center of the space and looked around.
The room was so small that he could see everything with just a turn of his head.
And he realizedâthis wasnât the first time heâd seen it.
âItâs the same roomâŠâ
He covered his mouth, stunned.
No wonder the path had felt so familiar. No wonder he couldnât shake the sense of dĂ©jĂ vu.
âThis is the room from that night.â
The room where he had been consumed by madness and desire, lost in a haze of emotions as he took Irene for the first time.
He recalled fleeing in a panic afterward, hastily dressing and running out. The path he had just walked was the same as the one he had fled down.
The memories had been so deeply buried in his subconscious, wrapped in guilt and the shock of breaking a lifetime of vows, that he had forgotten them entirely.
âI need to⊠clean up⊠now.â
His voice trembled as he tried to ground himself.
The room was meticulously tidy.
The bed was neatly made, the blanket folded carefully, and the only decoration was a single, withered flower placed in a cracked glass bottle on the table.
Aside from this, there was nothing else to adorn the room.
The air was icy, the lack of heating evident in the frosty mist that escaped his breath.
If not for the faint light filtering through the small window, there would have been no warmth in the space at all.
âHow could she have lived here until yesterday?â
Michaelâs gaze fell on the neatly folded blanket atop the bed.
He reached out and picked it up.
Though clean, the fabric was old and fraying, with patched seams showing signs of long use.
What shocked him even more was how thin it wasâhardly suitable for the cold season.
Even those who had taken vows of austerity in the temple wouldnât have endured this.
âShe slept under this?â
Michael stood frozen for a long time, unable to process what he was seeing.
Eventually, he turned to the small bag the maid had mentioned and opened it.
âSurely there are warmer clothes⊠there must beâŠâ
But his voice faltered as he looked inside.
The bagâs contents were as sparse and shabby as the room itself.
A few thin garments. A small coin pouch. A stack of papers. A battered book that looked as if it had been discarded by someone else. A pair of worn, carefully wrapped shoes.
That was all Irene had.
Michael couldnât understand it.
Even with her meager share, the number of dungeons he cleared was several times greater than that of any other knight. There was no reason for her to struggle financially.
Yet she had always been so cautious and frugal about money, often to the point of obsession.
Surely the purpose of saving money was to spend it eventually.
But Irene had never appeared comfortable or well-off.
Not even at the end.
He hadnât noticed it at the time, overwhelmed by the chaos of the moment, but the body he had carried from the dungeon that day had been clothed in garments far too thin for the season.
And now, he found himself searching her belongings for warmer clothingâanything that could have kept her from looking so cold as she lay there.
Er_amaral26@
Poor guyâŠ. He truly had no idea how she lived⊠Iâm guessing the papers he found will say something about how she was forced to pay all her money to that POS and heâll finally understand why she so desperately needed money, and why she couldnât spend any of it on herself. Itâs no kidding he went crazy after her death when he found all this outâŠ