Holy Night: My Husband is Definitely a Paladin - Chapter 257

Had it been the usual Cecilia, she would have quickly sensed that something was off about Michael’s demeanor.

But the alcohol she had eagerly downed after so long had dulled her senses.

Because of that, she failed to notice just how cold Michael’s expression had become.

And so, she continued speaking with a smile.

“Come to think of it, that woman was ridiculously persistent, wasn’t she?”

Cecilia recalled the first time she had seen Irene.

***

It was the Contract Night, and once again, she assumed Michael would not attend.

So she had merely made a brief appearance before returning to her quarters early.

But as the night deepened and she was about to fall asleep, she heard a commotion outside.

The noise came from the direction of the fortress’s main hall—more precisely, from the banquet hall where the Night of the Pact was concluding.

Sensing something unusual, she ordered her maid to investigate.

When the maid returned, her face was pale as she trembled and stammered out her report.

“S-Sir Michael… has attended the Night of the Pact. And he… he has formed a pair.”

“…What?”

For a moment, Cecilia thought she must have misheard.

Michael? Attending the Night of the Pact?

He had not even expressed his intention to participate this time. She had assumed he had given up on the subjugation.

Yet not only had he attended—he had even formed a pair?

“That can’t be! Who… who was paired with Sir Michael?”

“Ah… After looking into it, I was told she is a Grade 10 Purifier… Her name is Irene Rhodiam.”

At the maid’s words, Cecilia let out a scoffing laugh.

She had heard of that Grade 10 Purifier before.

Grade 10.

An existence even rarer than Grade 1.

But rarity alone did not equate to value.

A rare piece of trash.

That was all Cecilia had thought when she first heard of Irene.

She had dismissed her, deeming her unworthy of even remembering.

And yet, that insignificant thing had become Michael’s pair?

Something had to be wrong.

But if it was true—if Sir Michael had truly been paired with that—

‘She has to die.’

Without a moment’s hesitation, Cecilia had reached that conclusion.

***

“Honestly… the way she kept staring at you was laughable. She should have known her place. A mere Grade 10 Purifier, thinking she could be your pair, hah. It was utterly ridiculous.”

“…Irene kept looking at me?”

“Oh, yes. Shamelessly so. And whenever you weren’t around, she would constantly glance around, searching for you. She was like a lost puppy wandering aimlessly. And on the rare occasions she got to purify you, she would sit in the corner of the Purifiers’ quarters afterward, blushing like a fool—looking as if just that was enough to make her happy.”

Cecilia laughed even louder as she spoke.

She was so absorbed in her excitement that she didn’t even notice how Michael’s way of speaking had changed.

Cecilia continued recounting what she remembered of Irene, the pathetic woman who had always been an eyesore to her.

She still vividly recalled how that would get flustered and delighted, harboring futile hopes about Michael.

“And another time—”

As Cecilia prattled on, Michael found himself unable to breathe.

Irene liked me.

That thought struck his mind like a thunderclap.

Michael recalled the way Irene had looked at him.

To be honest… he had never truly looked at her properly.

Whenever their eyes met, he had simply turned away.

But Irene had done the same.

Whenever he looked her way, she would flinch in shock, turn her head quickly, and disappear entirely, as if running away.

And yet… she had only done so because she thought he was the one avoiding her?

Cecilia continued to describe Irene in ways Michael had never seen.

Because of that, he did not draw his sword right away.

He wanted to hear more.

To know just a little more about Irene, even if it was from the lips of this detestable woman.

“Well, really… how much must she have liked you to drag you into that tiny room and not let you go for an entire week? It’s not like she couldn’t have left whenever she wanted.”

Then, Cecilia brought up that day—the day Michael had been dangerously consumed by miasma.

And she was right.

At the time, Irene had indeed had several chances to escape.

Michael’s survival instincts had clung to her, but he had been so severely wounded that there had been moments when he could do nothing but remain still.

During those moments, Irene had desperately tried to pull away—her face a mess from crying.

Michael remembered what he had said to her then.

“Don’t go… Please…”

With nothing but raw instinct left in him, he had begged her.

At the time, Irene had been utterly wrecked.

Because he had held onto her for days without letting go, her body had been covered in red marks.

She had been too out of her mind with exhaustion to even feel shame—her legs trembling as she tried to retreat, while what he had spilled into her continued to drip out without stopping.

Even recalling it now, it was a miserable sight.

No matter how they were pairs, what he had done then had never been something permissible.