Holy Night: My Husband is Definitely a Paladin - Chapter 189

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10th-class purifier.

That could only mean Irene.

“Wasn’t she the one who never spent money? I remember someone saying she’d stretch a single piece of bread over several days. Not even crumbs were left on the plates in her room.”

One of the maids clicked her tongue sympathetically as she spoke.

“Someone felt sorry for her once and gave her some leftover bread, and she was so happy about it.”

Michael felt a deep ache in his chest at those words.

Irene, who had scrimped and saved every coin to pay the ransom demanded by the count, had nothing to call her own. Naturally, she couldn’t have had the means to buy ample food.

But to think she had to rely on a maid’s charity for scraps—it was unbearable.

“Why didn’t she just come to the temple?”

Each painful realization brought fresh waves of anguish, and Michael couldn’t help but blame Irene, now reduced to ashes in the urn he carried.

Why hadn’t she told him? Why hadn’t she confided in him about her dire situation, her desperation? If she’d asked him for help, asked to borrow money, surely he would have…

The thought trailed off as a memory surfaced in Michael’s mind.

He remembered the time he and Irene had entered a dungeon together.

A man from a nearby village had grabbed Michael’s arm and begged.

“Sir Michael! My wife has collapsed from illness, and my children are starving. Please, help us, I beg of you!”

Onlookers had clicked their tongues in pity at the man’s desperate plea, as he knelt before Michael, looking utterly forlorn.

But Michael’s sharp eyes noticed details others missed.

The man’s complexion was far too healthy for someone claiming his children were starving. His clothes, supposedly worn from caring for his family, were far too clean and well-maintained. And then there was the faint but unmistakable scent of expensive liquor every time the man opened his mouth.

Michael had encountered too many such people before and dismissed him coldly, telling him to seek aid from the temple before turning away.

As he walked off, he remembered meeting Irene’s eyes.

She had looked at him blankly for a moment before turning her head.

At the time, her expression had struck him—she had looked as if her own flaws had been laid bare for all to see.

He hadn’t understood her reaction then.

But now it seemed clear: Irene had likely believed that his cold indifference would apply to her as well.

As Michael reeled from the renewed pain of that memory, the maids continued their conversation.

“I heard she used her summer blanket until it was in tatters. Why didn’t she use the new one she’d bought?”

“Who knows? Anyway, at least we salvaged this. We couldn’t grab much from Princess Cecilia’s quarters since the senior maids got there first.”

At the mention of Cecilia, another maid nodded in agreement.

“True. Normally, the princess leaves as soon as the hunting season ends, but this time she stayed longer. I thought it was because she had business with the Alliance of Kingdoms, but then she suddenly left in a rush.”

Every year, Princess Cecilia would bring new items with her when she arrived at the fortress.

This meant that before she left, she would discard most of her furniture and belongings.

The maids, eager for the leftovers, always vied for a chance to work in her quarters.

Once the princess departed, the maids would celebrate, collecting the discarded treasures.

This year, however, the haul had been exceptionally bountiful.

“She left behind more items than usual. It was like she left with only the clothes on her back. I wonder what was so urgent.”

The maid chuckled, thinking of the trinkets she had taken.

Another maid clicked her tongue.

“Maybe she left because she felt guilty about the dead woman.”

“The dead woman? Who?”

“Who else? The purifier who owned this blanket.”

Michael, standing frozen in the hallway, felt his breath catch.

“Why would the princess feel guilty about her?”

“Well…”

The maid holding the blanket glanced around cautiously before lowering her voice.

“Another maid told me that the dead purifier was looking for Sir Michael. She mentioned to the princess that the purifier had entered the dungeon, and the purifier died trying to find him.”

“What?”

“The princess probably didn’t realize her words would lead to that, but still… her words got someone killed. No wonder she couldn’t stay here.”

”Hah, well, not our problem. Let’s just check the princess’s room again and see if there’s anything else worth grabbing—”

“Wait, what—?!”

The maid abruptly stopped mid-sentence, startled.

The maid, about to suggest searching the princess’s quarters for anything left behind, was startled when a hand grabbed her shoulder with crushing force.

She turned to see Michael glaring at her.