Holy Night: My Husband is Definitely a Paladin - Chapter 187
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Irene’s body was moved to the crematorium the next day.
A solitary carriage, loaded with flowers, moved slowly through the chilly fortress.
Flowers, in this season, and in such abundance—especially here in the fortress—were a rarity.
The remaining staff watched in a mix of surprise and pity as Michael alone followed the carriage carrying her body.
“Even so, Sir Michael is taking care of his pair.”
“True. But what good is all this after she’s already gone?”
Their words weren’t meant to blame Michael, yet the whispers, clear even from a distance, made Michael bow his head even lower.
The crematorium was outside the fortress, at the foothills where the mountains began.
The elderly crematorium keeper remarked how unusual it was to receive a body at this time of year and suggested Michael wait while he raised the furnace temperature.
As the fire was stoked, Michael stood, staring blankly at Irene lying in her casket.
Unlike yesterday, she was now dressed in thick, soft garments.
The sleeves were adorned with intricate, delicate embroidery, and the dress featured luxurious lace, clearly of the highest quality.
The clothes suited her perfectly, but now she would never say anything.
The piece of his heart he had given her too late seemed to make no difference to her at all.
After staring at her for a long while, Michael cautiously raised a trembling hand and placed it on her cheek.
Her pale face, devoid of all color, felt warm where his fingers touched, as if the heat from the furnace had somehow reached her.
“…Irene.”
He whispered her name softly, as though trying to wake someone deeply asleep.
For a fleeting moment, he thought that if he called her like this, those long lashes of hers might flutter, and she might slowly open her eyes.
He tried to remember her gaze.
They had locked eyes countless times before. The problem was, every time, he would immediately look away.
Even after turning his head, her deep, amethyst eyes would linger in his thoughts, and he would tighten his grip on his sword for no reason.
Those moments lasted less than a second, often from a distance, yet Michael had always thought her eyes were stunning.
So, whenever shining purple gems appeared as dungeon rewards, he secretly ensured they were added to her share.
And he’d allowed himself a small, secret hope.
Perhaps someday she would have one of them fashioned into jewelry and wear it proudly.
But Irene had never once adorned herself with the gemstones he had set aside for her.
Back then, he had felt a pang of disappointment.
Now, he despised himself for being so ignorant of her circumstances while entertaining such trivial fantasies.
“The fire is strong now.”
The crematorium keeper called out, throwing more logs into the furnace.
“You may say your final goodbyes.”
Final goodbyes.
“Irene.”
Hoping against hope, Michael called her name again.
She was so warm, so beautiful, yet Irene remained still, her eyes forever closed.
“Now, please step back. The fire is very hot.”
The keeper said, motioning for Michael to step away as he opened the furnace door.
Whoosh!
A fierce, blazing flame leapt forth, radiating such heat that Michael instinctively raised a hand to shield his face.
His heart sank.
That fire—so unbearably hot—was where Irene was meant to go.
“Irene.”
Unconsciously, Michael grasped her shoulders.
“It’s too hot. So please…”
She needed to get up. She needed to move away from that heat with him.
The crematorium keeper, accustomed to such moments, offered a prayer to the divine and gently removed Michael’s hands from Irene.
“She must walk her own path now. If you delay, she may lose the form God has given her and become a wretched spirit.”
Michael clenched his teeth.
The thought that he and Irene could no longer walk the same path was unbearable.
While he stood frozen, the keeper deftly slid the casket into the furnace.
Whoosh!
The flames immediately enveloped their new arrival.
“Ah…”
Michael stepped forward, but the keeper quickly shut the furnace door.
Just before it closed, Michael caught a glimpse of Irene lying peacefully amidst the bright flames.
Her eyes remained shut, as though nothing could ever trouble or hurt her again.
Michael stood there, unable to move or call her name any longer.
