PCP – 231

Damia was terrified by the sight of Akkard’s gruesome injury on his thigh.

‘He’s a swordsman, what if he’s permanently disabled?’

Damia clenched her teeth, took the handkerchief that Akkard had placed around her neck, and pressed as hard as she could on his thigh.

“Even if it hurts, be patient.”

As the handkerchief touched the wound pierced by the sword, Akkard stiffened in pain. His muscular body was instantly drenched in a cold sweat.

He clenched and gritted his teeth so hard enough that his jaw muscles grew white but whispered softly:

“Damia, Cesare… … .”

She had forgotten Cesare’s existence for a moment, and turned around in surprise. An icy fear shot up her spine, afraid he might attack them again with his dagger.

But, contrary to her expectations, Cesare was not there. As she narrowed her eyes, wondering if he had already run away, she barely saw him through a gap in the smoke.

He was teetering, covering his nose and mouth with his sleeves. The glass bottle was thrown through the broken stained glass window so his enemies would invariably be there. So instead, Cesare seemed to be trying to escape to the farthest exit from here.

‘What should I do?’

If she let Cesare escape now, she never knew when he would cause trouble again. He was like a snake that hid himself in a dark burrow and stuck out only his head, truly difficult to catch.

Damia glared at Cesare nearing the exit as she weighed her options. With decisiveness, she looked away. No matter how urgent it was to catch him, she couldn’t leave Akkard with such a severe injury.

Instead, Damia shut her eyes and continued to press on his wound with as much effort as she could muster. In a few seconds, the sleeping gas grew thicker.

She decided to trust Heinrich and pass out. Damia braced herself for the dizziness to come, but strangely, she didn’t feel her hands and feet grow limp or her vision spin like before.

‘Something’s off.’

When Damia thought so, she overheard a conversation between Prince Heinrich and the alchemist.

“Look, what did I say?”

“Indeed, he ran away on his own two feet.”

Then, a strong gust blew into the prayer room. The breeze cleaned away the smoke that filled the shrine.

Instead, what occupied her vision was the surprising sight of a tied-up Cesare with a triumphant rough-looking man beside him… … No, it was Kurd.

Behind him, of course, was Prince Heinrich, dressed as if he had just been out for a stroll. He surveyed the prayer room and shrugged.

“It looks like you had some fun while I was away. It will be troublesome to clean up after you.”

But Heinrich wouldn’t have to physically deal with cleaning up the mess. Even without him mentioning a word, his capable subordinates had already started to work.

Damia, catching sight of the medicine boxes and potions with some of them, exclaimed hastily:

“Here—a man was stabbed! Please help!!”

Upon hearing her urgent cry, Heinrich looked over and discovered the injured Akkard, to his surprise.

“Oh my Goddess, how did you get to that point? Kurd! Go take a look.”


Kurd came running over with a stoic sense of duty and bowed his head slightly toward Damia.

“Please step aside for a moment.”

With his instruction, he lifted the collar of his coat and revealed various vials and powders hanging from his inner pocket.

After taking the white powder out, he spread a generous amount of it on his glove and extended his hand toward Akkard. It must have been a hemostatic agent.

But before he could reach him, Akkard grabbed his wrist. And he made an unexpected request:

“Treat Damia first, Kurd.”


Kurd raised his eyebrows and asked as if he had heard something nonsensical. Then the bleeding and pale Akkard pointed to Damia with his chin.

“Neck, Damia’s neck… … .”

Kurd scrutinized Damia, wondering what he was fussing about, and only then found a dried blood stain on her neck. It was a fairly large mark, but anyone could see that the bleeding had already stopped.

But Akkard, who suffered more serious injuries, asked that Damia be given priority over himself. Kurd were slightly surprised by this fact.

‘Unbelievable! Until now, I thought he was selfish, vain, sloppy, that … … !!’

In a sense, it was an accurate assessment. But Damia was the only woman who made him a better human being than being a selfish, wretched collaborator.

So no wonder Akkard prioritized her first. However, he overlooked an essential matter: Damia’s opinion.

“… … Are you insane?”

A momentarily shocked and speechless Damia became outraged and burst out with a harsh, egregious tone:

“You’re bleeding like this but you want me to be treated first? How can you say that?”

Did you get injured in the head too? Damia was furious at his absurdity.

Was he trying to impress her, or was it some empty chivalry of a knight? Regardless, there was common sense. Rarely angry, she now exploded with ferocity.

Instead, Akkard shrank back quietly. He was genuinely more perturbed by the bloodstain on Damia’s neck than his wounds, but now it seemed that it would be better to meekly follow and obey her wishes.

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