Holy Night: My Husband is Definitely a Paladin - Chapter 297
TL: Elphie / PR: Marm
Irene stood frozen, unable to move.
The man approaching her was undeniably Michael. And yet, at the same time, he appeared like a stranger.
âMichael would never do something like this.â
Irene thought back to the Michael she knew.
Blunt and curt, yesâbut never needlessly cruel.
He was a man who, even if only briefly, had lived as a knight of the temple, bound by morality. Someone who teased her now and then but never crossed the line. Someone who might seem indifferent but would reach out without hesitation to those truly in need.
Michael possessed overwhelming strength, yet he had never used it to oppress others. His blade was always drawn against monstersânever against humans.
And yet, it was clear that the Michael standing before her now had slaughtered everyone in this place.
This brutal, merciless man couldn’t be the Michael she knew.
He stepped closer and stood before her. Then, with a blood-soaked hand, he reached out to cup her cheek.
Irene staggered backward.
It was only one step. If he wanted to grab her again, it wouldnât be difficult. Yet, the moment she recoiled, he simply stopped.
Slowly, he let his stained hand drop, his once-radiant eyesâalight with something like joyâdimming into something hollow. A faint, bitter smile crossed his lips.
âForgive me for raising such filthy hands toward you.â
That wasnât the issue here, but Irene kept her mouth shut.
She was terrified. She wanted nothing more than to escape this place as quickly as possible.
When she turned her head away, a bitter smile crossed Michael’s face.
âI know youâve come to scold me.â
ââŚâŚ?â
Scold him?
His words puzzled Irene even more.
For her to scold him, he would have to have done something wrong to her.
She struggled to find the right words, if there were any at all. Would it even be right to speak to him?
Before she could decide, he bowed his head once more.
âI will soon dispose of Princess Cecilia, that rat hiding in the shadows. I will return to her every ounce of pain she inflicted upon you.â
Then, without another word, he stepped past Irene and walked away.
Only after his figure disappeared did she finally release the breath she had been holding.
âHaaâŚâ
As the air left her lungs, her body trembled.
She couldn’t understand what this place was and why it was presenting such a bizarre sight.
âAnd Princess Cecilia? Was she inside that room?â
If so, why was he trying to kill her? What did he mean by the pain she inflicted on Irene?
Irene turned toward the iron door he had been pounding on. It was massive, adorned with ornate carvings, clearly meant to protect something of great value.
And on its surface, stark against the intricate designs, was a bloody handprint.
The moment her eyes landed on it, memories surged through her mind.
And then, a moment later, Irene clutched her stomach, her body trembling.
âWhat is thisâŚâ
Vivid memories surfaced in her mindâmemories she shouldnât have.
In them, she was running through a dungeon, alone.
Blood poured endlessly from the wound on her abdomen, seeping through her fingers as she desperately tried to hold it in. The pain was unbearable, but she couldnât stop.
If she did, the razor-sharp claws of the monster chasing her would tear through her throat.
The terror. The agony. It all felt so real.
âThis isâŚâ
She understood now.
This wasnât some fabricated illusion. This was her memoryâsomething she had truly experienced.
But then why had she forgotten it until now?
âPrincess Cecilia liedâŚâ
Tears welled in Ireneâs eyes as she whispered the words.
Cecilia had lied to her.
She had said that Michael was inside the dungeon. She had only gone to see him to greet him, nothing moreâŚ
Ireneâs breath came in ragged gasps. Betrayal. Rage. Fear. Pain. Every wretched emotion surged inside her, twisting like a storm.
Then, she heard a sound through the hallway. It was unmistakably his footsteps, walking through the pool of blood.
But this time, there was another sound. Something dragging. Something heavy.
Irene hastily ducked behind the nearest open door, pressing herself into the shadows.
Moments later, Michael appeared at the corridorâs entrance. He was dragging someone.
At first, she thought they might be unconscious.
But then, as he passed by, the limp weight of a wrist slipped free from his grasp, landing with a soft splat in the blood-soaked floor.
ââŚâŚ!â
Irene clamped her hands over her mouth to stifle a gasp.
A door creaked open. And thenâŚ
âAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!â
A piercing scream rang through the air. A womanâs voice. It was Princess Cecilia.
