Holy Night: My Husband is Definitely a Paladin - Chapter 190

Craving for more? Read the completed series on ko-fi!

“Say that again.”

“S-Sir Michael?”

“Tell me! What did the princess say to Irene? Speak, now!”

Michael, who had always been courteous to everyone regardless of their rank, was now seething with anger.

The man who had never raised his voice, even when the temple was insulted, now looked ready to tear someone apart.

His furious tone and intense presence left the maids trembling, unable to meet his gaze.

“T-The princess told Miss Irene…”

Shaking, the maid recounted what she had heard and seen.

How Irene had spent the morning asking people where Michael was, and how Princess Cecilia had told her that Michael was clearing a dungeon.

She explained that Irene had gone to the dungeon based on the princess’s words.

***

That night, Michael sat in a secluded corner of the fortress, clutching Irene’s blanket—taken from the maids—and reflecting on what to do next.

The dream he had cherished was now reduced to a small urn by his side. He had no will left to pursue anything further. He considered staying where he was and waiting for death to come.

But then he looked up, his gaze settling on the distant horizon, toward the kingdom of Visconti—Princess Cecilia’s homeland.

Should he go there, seize the princess by the throat, and demand the truth of what happened?

No. He dismissed the thought.

Cecilia was a cunning woman, someone who wouldn’t hesitate to lie or sacrifice others for her benefit. Michael had instinctively disliked her from the start.

If he went to Cecilia, she would deny everything. Even under the threat of death, she wouldn’t speak the truth.

Yet, he needed to know exactly what had happened.

“To deal with a snake, I must become one myself.”

In the dark, Michael’s piercing blue eyes glinted dangerously.

***

The next day, Michael gathered all of Irene’s belongings, holding her urn close to his chest, and left the fortress. His steps were set firmly toward the kingdom of Visconti.

A month later, news spread across the continent that Princess Cecilia and the entire royal family of Visconti had been brutally slaughtered in the palace.

***

Not long before, Irene had been groggy and half-asleep, but the sight of Michael crying silently, his expression contorted with pain, immediately cleared her head.

“Michael? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

She sat up in alarm, reaching out to him. But Michael continued to weep silently, tears streaming down his face.

“Why are you crying?”

She asked, baffled. Michael, struggling to control his emotions, took a deep breath and spoke in a voice laden with guilt.

“Because I made the unforgivable mistake of leaving you alone.”

Irene blinked, utterly taken aback.

Sure, she’d been alone when she encountered the fake Wilhelmina, but how was that Michael’s fault?

“Don’t cry over something like that. It wasn’t your fault, so stop crying, okay?”

She didn’t know how to comfort an adult man crying like this—it wasn’t something she had experience with.

After a moment of hesitation, she opened her arms and gently pulled Michael’s head against her chest, as if to soothe him.

She placed a light kiss on his forehead, hoping it would help him calm down.

“Michael…”

He wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face in her embrace. Silent tears soaked her clothes as he cried quietly, holding her as if afraid to let go.

***

Eventually, Michael released her. Irene looked down at the front of her now-soaked dress and sighed internally.

‘Is he really okay?’

If he was this upset without suffering a major injury, what would happen if he actually got hurt? Would the entire fortress be thrown into chaos?

Oddly, though, the worry wasn’t unpleasant. Knowing someone cared so deeply about her pain gave her a peculiar sense of joy, like a pleasant itch in her palms.

Irene rubbed her fingertips over the corners of her mouth to stop herself from smiling too much. She cleared her throat and changed the subject.

“Michael, I was thinking about something before I fell asleep.”

“What is it?”

Speaking with certainty, Irene declared,

“The creature that looks like Wilhelmina—I think we can handle it more easily than we thought.”