Chapter 15

Mariax quickly returned to the bed and sat down. Once her thirst had subsided a little, she finally had the leisure to look around. Her eyes were drawn to a wooden ornament hanging on the wall. It was quite large—strange that she hadn’t noticed it before. Something about it looked familiar. Then she remembered: the same pattern had been engraved on the castle gate.

Inside a circular frame made of dry branches, a fox was sitting. It was a fox’s den. Only then did Mariax realize that this massive stone fortress symbolized a fox’s den. It was such a far cry from the man.

Even someone like Mariax, who knew little about how the world worked, understood that humans preferred names that sounded powerful, like “Golden Dragon’s Nest” or “Palm of the Underground Giant.” No matter how she thought about it, “Foxhole” sounded far too weak. It felt like it would collapse under the tremors of a frost giant’s stirrings, or be blown away by a spirit’s prank. Why would anyone name it that?

Suddenly, she flinched. Her eyes followed the presence that steadily approached. A now-familiar force—like a blazing fire that could burn everything in its path. It was Gart. Mariax cautiously held her breath.

The fight… is over.

He was getting closer. Beyond the fortress walls, across the main roads traveled by humans, through the plaza, beneath the castle, up the stairs, and right to the door—firmly shut. It felt like a slow tightening around her neck. Mariax stared at the rattling doorknob. With a creak, the door opened, letting in cold air heavy with the stench of blood.

Mariax and Gart locked eyes. Despite the vicious aura that suggested he might destroy or slaughter something at any moment, his face looked nearly the same as before. Not a single furrow in his brow. No sign of exhaustion. If not for the blood splattered across his face, the sharpness in his eyes, and the palpable killing intent, it would’ve been hard to believe he had just come from battle.

Still seated on the bed, Mariax straightened her back. She placed her slightly trembling left hand under her right. Gart took slow steps toward her. His boots, caked in snow and blood, brushed against Mariax’s toes. Whether from the cold or sheer revulsion, her feet curled inward.

“Did you keep the house safe?”

Mariax managed a small nod.

“Well done.” Gart narrowed his eyes into a smile. His words were gentle, despite the murderous energy he exuded. His emotions were vague, his actions unpredictable. Not knowing how to respond, Mariax desperately tried to read him.

Suddenly, Gart crouched down. Mariax looked down at him, unable to swallow or even blink. He casually ignored her gaze as he bit the tip of his glove and pulled his hand free. In the stiff silence, a large hand, covered in scars, grabbed Mariax’s foot. Though he must’ve come through a blizzard, the man’s hand was burning hot. Mariax had to summon all her willpower not to flinch and instead let her foot rest limply, like a lifeless object.

Still holding her foot, Gart tilted his head side to side, slowly stretching his neck, as though releasing tension from the fight. Mariax’s cold foot gradually warmed against his intense body heat. Around the same time, the sharp killing aura and the wild divine energy he exuded began to subside.

Time passed. With his gaze still lowered, Gart slowly closed and opened his eyes. The menace in his eyes faded, like a calm sea under a windless night sky.

“Hmm.” Gart’s lips curved into a smile. “How amusing…”

It didn’t sound amusing at all. Though his violent energy had lessened, Mariax couldn’t let down her guard. He was harder to understand than a natural disaster.

As Gart looked down, a drop of blood from his chin landed on the top of Mariax’s foot. He wiped it away with the back of his hand. Every place his hand touched felt frozen in tension.

Then Gart rummaged through his coat. Mariax expected some vicious weapon or a restraining device like shackles. But to her surprise, what he pulled out was a square piece of white cloth and a pair of small leather shoes.

“Lift your foot.”

With practiced hands, Gart wrapped the white cloth around Mariax’s foot and slipped on the leather boots. He even tied them in a neat ribbon. Then he stood up abruptly. Mariax’s gaze followed him upward. Gart brushed snow off his head with a careless hand and shrugged off his heavy gray fur coat, letting it fall to the floor. Then he walked over to the table Mariax had wiped earlier and scraped the blood- and straw-caked snow off his boots using the table’s edge. A clearer signal that “I’m done here” could hardly exist.

He looked busy with his casual clean-up. Mariax lowered her anxious eyes to the leather shoes he had put on her. A little loose, but the tanned leather was expertly stitched. The floral embroidery was so delicate it reminded her of snowflakes. They were beautiful shoes. Looking at them, Mariax felt…

Is he insane?

She shot a suspicious glance at Gart. To storm in radiating menace, only to put cute shoes on her with his own hands—if gods were fickle like boiling jam, he had surely gone beyond that. The man had to be mentally unstable. Three Thousandth had wanted to study the great god Heimdrix, but Mariax thought Gart would make a more suitable subject.

She observed this highly suitable research subject. That pungent smell was no illusion—his tunic under the coat was soaked with blood. Gart untied the leather strap at his waist and pulled the hem of his tunic up and over his head. The candlelight outlined his figure: broad shoulders, a thick waist tapering from his spine, and a body armored with muscle, like a beast that concealed itself in darkness and wind. Scars of all sizes were scattered across him.

Using the tunic he’d just taken off, Gart roughly wiped his body, then turned and walked toward Mariax again. His bulging abs and firm, broad chest were now exposed. Mariax stared at the scar on his chest—the wound she had inflicted, or rather, the one he had guided her to inflict by taking her hand. The memory of that moment’s sensation overwhelmed her. Her fingertips tingled.

Without so much as a glance at Mariax, Gart passed her by and opened the bedside drawer. He pulled out a neatly folded tunic, slipped it on, and fastened it with a leather belt. Grooming complete. He ran a hand through his tousled hair and stood before Mariax again.

“Shall we go?”

He acted as though it had already been decided. Lacking the courage to ask where, Mariax followed him out of the room.

***

The inside of the castle was cloaked in darkness. Candleholders hung at wide intervals, lighting the long corridor without windows. Mariax followed Gart in silence for a long while. As they descended a spiral staircase, the sound of murmuring voices grew louder. The castle was unusually restless, likely due to the recent battle.

At the intersection of two corridors, Three Thousandth suddenly appeared. As if he had predicted Gart would come down around now, he greeted them with a casual nod.

“Lady Mariax.”

Three Thousandth handed her something white. It was a fur-lined coat, the same kind Gart had worn earlier. The fur was white, and so was the leather. However it had been treated, it was smooth, soft, and—despite being thin—surprisingly warm.

“Did you make this after hunting that wolf?”

Three Thousandth whispered something to Gart in reply, covering his mouth. Mariax didn’t hear.

Wolf’s fur…

Mariax toyed with the fabric, looking uneasy. Thankfully, it was rougher than the fur of Ulri and Ba’en. After gifting the lovely cloak, Three Thousandth disappeared without another word. Gart resumed walking ahead. Mariax quickly threw the cloak on and followed. The distant din grew louder. Light leaked from the cracks between doors and stone walls—clearly their destination.

“Wahaha!”

“Uhaha!”

“Uhehe!”

The large space was full of people. These were the same rough-looking, weapon-wielding humans she had seen when the windows were open. Mariax was quietly surprised. From afar, she hadn’t noticed: not a single one of them was ordinary. Each person in the room radiated divine power greater and stronger than their muscular physiques suggested.

Someone spotted Gart and let out a startled noise. “Huh? Anir?”

The laughter died instantly, and a heavy silence fell over the room. Mariax realized just how much these humans feared Gart.

“Wh-why are you here?” a man blurted the question out without thinking. 

“Idiot.” The woman behind him smacked his back. She followed with nonsense of her own, asking, “Was… was it too loud? Should we keep it down?”

They were all clearly panicking, babbling in fear.