Sự Cứu Rỗi Của Những Kẻ Sa Ngã - Chương 12

Cho đến nay, Morpheus đã luôn là một quý tộc hoàn hảo. Máu quý. Một aristocrat không tì-handed phù hợp với số mệnh do Gott đặt ra. Đối với Morpheus, tồn tại của Arsena chỉ là một khuyết điểm đột nhiên xuất hiện trong cuộc đời anh, thứ anh muốn gỡ bỏ ngay lập tức.

Sự tồn tại của cô ấy chỉ là điều khôngpleasant, và giờ đây cô ấy đang run rẩy một mình. Như rác. Đó là comportment không xứng với người mang họ Katarini. Mày Morpheus nhíu mày sâu sắc.

"Đi theo anh."

Khi anh giật đầu với một voice dripping với irritation không ngụ ý, Arsena do dự, liên tục nhìn lại. Cô ấy như một con vật hoảng sợ, không biết phải làm gì và do dự.

"Haa…"

A deep sigh escaped, born of uncontrollable frustration. No matter how much they had taught her over the past year and dressed her in noble clothes, inside she was still a commoner. One who couldn’t make a single decision on her own.

Anh ta không có ý định đối xử với một người như vậy một cách lịch sự. Morpheus strides over and roughly grabbed Arsena’s exposed wrist, pulling her along.

Her body, so small it was hard to believe she was born in the same year as him, followed without resistance. The wrist he held was even thinner than that of the much younger Rosalyn. The sensation against his hand was unpleasant. The faint pulse beneath the delicate, thin skin that seemed it might tear at any moment.

As he shook off Arsena’s skin that clung stickily to his palm, Arsena, who had been moving her feet as if being dragged, collapsed right there. Morpheus looked down at Arsena, who had slumped to the floor. It was a gaze befitting their innate positions as determined by God.

Her skirt was disheveled unattractively. The wrist he had just been holding was flushed red. The mark he had left was vivid, like blood spilled on untrodden snow. Her blue eyes, raised pitifully, were brimming with moisture. Tears she couldn’t shed, biting her small, delicate lips tightly.

"Get up."

At Morpheus’s arrogant command, Arsena obediently raised her body. Her fragile frame seemed to struggle even with the weight of her clothes; the sight of her rising was pitiful.

Morpheus found himself staring at her for a long time, looking like a broken twig crackling. For some reason, he couldn’t take his eyes off that unsightly scene. As Arsena, who had been painfully raising herself by pressing her hands on the cold floor and setting her knees, lost her balance and staggered.

His hand shot out instinctively, catching Arsena by the waist. It’s just an ingrained reflex, Morpheus thought as he hastily withdrew his hand.

"I’m sorry. I think I’ve twisted my ankle. Please go ahead, I’ll follow."

That stupid thing. He wanted to throw her away right then and there, but regardless, she bore the Katarini name. He couldn’t let others see her in such a state.

"Lift it."

"What?!"

Her startled face made him feel like a thug. Suppressing his unpleasant emotions, a deep sigh escaped.

"I said lift your dress. You said you twisted it."

"Ah…"

Arsena lifted her skirt with a dumb expression. She should have just lifted it slightly to show her ankle, but that lowborn girl, without any sense of shame, was exposed up to his knee. His brow furrowed at the pathetic sight.

It wasn’t even worth explaining. Morpheus simply bent down to do what he needed to do.

For someone training as a knight, a twisted ankle was not a difficult problem. Morpheus reached out without hesitation.

However, the exposed ankle was much thinner than his own. As if it might break if touched wrongly. Would it break? Morpheus unconsciously gripped Arsena’s ankle tightly. The urge to break it right then and there surged within him.

"…Ah."

A faint moan escaped from between Arsena’s parted lips. Arsena’s face was flushed red. Not only that but her exposed white legs were also tinged pink. All the way up to that deep place that shouldn’t be seen