Holy Night: My Husband is Definitely a Paladin - Chapter 315

TL: Elphie / PR: Mikan

Irene picked up a piece of bread from the plate and bit into it.

The bread they’d bought from the village the day before was the perfect temperature, just warm enough to eat.

It was obvious he had popped it back into the oven before bringing breakfast up.

Honestly, she could’ve eaten it as it was. That’s just how bread usually is.

But Michael had never once brought her cold or tough bread—as if he always wanted her to eat only the best.

With that small yet consistent effort he made every day, Irene found herself once again reminded of his affection for her.

“Would you like some more?”

“No, I’m already too full.”

She truly couldn’t eat another bite.

Every morning, Michael prepared a hearty breakfast.

He treated the task of making her breakfast as though it were some solemn and unwavering sacred mission.

Thanks to that, Irene finished another morning meal in perfect contentment.

Warm, fragrant bread, yogurt filled with nuts and honey, fresh fruits and vegetables, and a chilled glass of water with a slice of lemon.

It was an utterly satisfying meal, and yet, Michael always seemed just a little dissatisfied.

“Next time I go to the city, I’ll have to buy more meat.”

As he spoke, his hands casually wandered across her belly and chest, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“You eat so well, and still, you barely gain any weight…”

Smack!

Irene slapped the back of his hand, hard and loud.

“How is that my fault?”

Her voice came out sharper than she intended. What good is eating well if she was being thoroughly worn out every night?

“I’m deeply remorseful.”

“Liar! You’re smiling right now!”

“I mean it.”

Michael continued to smile warmly, taking in her words without a hint of offense.

After a while of playful bickering atop the bed, Irene finally accepted what she already knew—that there was no winning against Michael in a battle of words—and rose to her feet.

While Michael took their empty dishes downstairs to clean up, Irene washed up with the water he had drawn earlier.

Even though Michael claimed he was being gentle, red marks still lingered across her skin.

‘I’m not candy.’

What on earth did he find so delightful about nibbling and sucking on her all day long?

Not that this was the worst of it. At least the spots he left visible were places she could cover up. It was when he’d mutter something about her ‘overflowing’ and shove his head between her legs…

“Ahh!”

Irene shook her head violently, forcing herself to finish washing as quickly as possible.

Even after two years of traveling outside the Fortress together, she still hadn’t gotten used to how shameless Michael could be.

‘Somehow, it seems to get worse with each passing day.’

Back when they’d first left the Fortress and started wandering together, it hadn’t been like this.

In fact, back then, he’d barely even had the courage to hold her hand.

‘He was very troubled that I had seen his past.’

Michael had trembled with fear when he realized that Irene had witnessed the life he’d led and the bloodshed he’d caused.

His past was nothing but slaughter. He had killed Cecilia. He had wiped out the entire Visconti royal family.

Irene had seen with her own eyes just how merciless and brutal he had once been.

Michael had been terrified that, after seeing that, she would fear him. And more than that, he had been tormented by the thought that she had been forced to witness something so horrific.

‘Even though he’s the one who did it.’

He was someone who once cherished life more than anyone else.

He used to help those in trouble, regardless of their status or birth—a noble soul through and through. And yet, because of her, he became a murderer.

Even so, those memories of how much he had once valued life wouldn’t have disappeared from his heart.

No, it was because he knew the worth of a life that he had annihilated the Visconti family so viciously.

As Irene quietly dried her body, she thought about how deeply he must have hated himself for all that he had done, through countless, unending moments.

Then she stood in front of the mirror and looked at her face.

‘Smile.’

Even the slightest stiffness in her expression, Michael would pick up on it instantly.

If she went downstairs like this, he would definitely sense something, grow restless, and hover anxiously around her.

And she didn’t want to see him like that.

When Irene made her way downstairs, she saw Michael putting away the last of the cleaned dishes.

He moved so naturally,as if the kitchen had always been his domain.

‘Even an apron suits him too well. It’s almost unfair.’

Maybe when someone has a body like that, anything they wear looks good.

The small apron wrapped around his solid, muscular frame somehow suited him even more than it had suited her.

Leaving Michael behind in the kitchen, Irene stepped into the sitting room.

Outside the wide-open window, the white curtains they had washed and hung out to dry yesterday fluttered in the breeze.

The breeze carried with it a faint scent of salt. Stay in it long enough, and you could even feel the salt settle on your skin along with the moisture. But Irene liked how his wind carried the vastness of the sea.