The Villainess Proposed a Contractual Marriage

Chapter 64: "Clean it up."

"Haa... Huff..."

He had already known.

He was well aware of his strength. That's why he had schemed and made thorough preparations.

"But... To this extent...!!!"

The High Priest of the demon race surveyed the devastated area bewilderedly.

The once-verdant forest had lost its vitality, now mixed with soil and debris. Dust clouds had risen to the sky, causing a massive sandstorm. If the High Priest had delayed his decision to withdraw the troops, they would have been annihilated on the spot.

Nevertheless...

'He's weak. Weaker than during that incident ten years ago...'

The current Harte was weaker than when he was twelve and had killed the Holy Maiden. The manifestation of miracles using divine power had noticeably diminished. It seemed as if something was hindering his baptismal name.

Yet, what was this result?

"You... Just what the hell are you...!!!"

The hierarchy between their respective gods was clear.

For some reason, the god of humans had fallen lower in rank than the one worshipped by the demon race. But for a vanguard of a lower-ranked god to be this strong defied the natural order.

"Hng..."

The High Priest observed his own body, which was regenerating more slowly. Though he was the god's proxy, this was the price for drawing upon abilities that transcended biological limits.

Meanwhile, Harte was barely clinging to consciousness out of sheer stubbornness.

One more step. Just one more push and it would be over. If he could manage that, there was a real chance of putting humanity firmly under their feet.

Pong. Torong. Tong.

A clear, melodious sound rang out, like soap bubbles popping. This next clash would surely kill humanity's strongest guardian.

Just as the High Priest was about to smile in satisfaction.

Kwaaaang!

A bolt of lightning from the heavens carved a deep furrow into the earth. The High Priest had no choice but to divert his miracle manifestation towards defense against this unexpected attack.

Flap!

A pure white, massive body descended slowly to the ground with a flap of its wings. The Divine Dragon with awe-inspiring golden eyes coiled around Harte's body protectively.

[That's far enough, proxy of the Demon God.]

"Are you here to interfere... Divine Dragon?"

[I may not look it, but I'm this child's nanny. If you intend to continue this holy war, I'll shoulder the child's burden from now on.]

The Divine Dragon Erehite delivered an elegant threat.

This was a form of blackmail.

It meant that after exhausting yourself to your limit in the duel with Harte, you fight me next.

The High Priest squeezed his eyes shut.

He lamented the reality of having to let such a golden opportunity slip through his fingers.

One step. Just one more step and the demon race's forces would have become superior to humans in every aspect.

'To think a single moment could be so precious...'

It wasn't for nothing that the demon race had been unilaterally provoking with military force. Excluding holy wars, human forces were far inferior to those of the demon race.

Unlike demons who wielded their race's innate abilities, humans had to protect themselves solely through training.

Even including holy wars, if Harte were to disappear, an all-out war would have been feasible.

'But... Given the current circumstances, even if we fought to the death, there'd be no future for the demon race.'

The Holy Maiden, who was supposed to become the next High Priest, had been killed long ago. Therefore, if he were to throw away his life, the demon temple would practically disintegrate.

So, the High Priest made the bold decision to sheathe his drawn sword.

"You insufferable lot..."

The High Priest muttered a curse as he concealed his divine form. The crimson droplets vanished without a trace, and only a faint golden light flickered like dying fireflies.

[You did well to face such an opponent, Harte.]

Erehite, his bravado now stripped away, shuddered.

Indeed, the High Priest held a rank equal to that of a god. It was only natural, as he was like a window through which the Demon God observed the world. If he had decided to gamble right then...

The next moment, an unexpected turn of events occurred.

Harte's presence vanished completely.

[... Harte? Answer me, Harte!]

Sensing that something had gone terribly wrong, Erehite called out Harte's name. But only silence answered.

[Kuh...!]

Immediately, he took flight with Harte on his back.

If they could reach the temple in the capital, they might find answers.

Above all, Harte needed to see his family.

For him, the presence of family might be the most effective treatment in the world.

Paang!

The massive wings pushed against the air, creating a sonic boom.

The holy war that had left deep scars on the mortal realm thus entered a brief lull.

---

---

"Harte. Hey, are you listening? Harte!"

"Ibria."

As Harte, who had been momentarily lost in thought, responded to the call, Ibria's face blossomed into a bright smile. She then twirled on the spot to show off her appearance.

"What do you think of this? It's the outfit the imperial family sent for Founding Day. Isn't it pretty without being excessive, while still maintaining the dignity of a clergy member?"

"... Ah."

Right. That's how it was. Today was the first day of the Founding Day celebrations, and the evening of the imperial palace ball was fast approaching.

Despite both of them having aged considerably, Ibria remained as innocent as ever. It must be due to living confined in the temple that her unsullied personality was preserved.

Ibria leaned forward, hands behind her back.

"Well? Am I pretty?"

"Yes."

"How much?"

"Like usual?"

"That won't do!"

Wasn't it enough that he said she was pretty? What more did she want? Even after being childhood friends for so long, Ibria's inner thoughts remained a mystery to him.

"What's the problem?"

"If I'm wearing special clothes, I should be much prettier! If it's the same as usual, that's totally an insult!"

"You don't need to be bound by the notion of something special. Because you're Ibria, who everyone admires."

"I-Is that so? Hehe..."

In fact, Ibria was known as the most beautiful woman in the empire. Due to her position as Holy Maiden, she had many opportunities to appear before the public. Thus, Ibria's beauty was a subject of objective interest.

"You know what? During last year's Founding Day, someone called me one of the two great beauties of the empire."

"That's surprising."

It would be rare to find a beauty comparable to Ibria. Moreover, those with baptismal names don't allow impurities to taint their bodies. In simple terms, their skin always maintains its best condition.

For someone to rival Ibria like this.

Though he had no intention of committing adultery, it inevitably piqued his curiosity.

After briefly recollecting, Ibria suddenly clapped her hands.

"Ah, right! It was Duchess Elphisia Luminel. She's famous for being the empire's first female duchess."

"Was there such a person?"

"Anyway, take some interest in worldly affairs. Don't you get tired of just looking at me every day?"

"I have no intention of bringing personal emotions into my work. It goes against the rules."

As Harte recited his personal moral code, Ibria pouted and narrowed her eyes.

"Ah... I see."

Even though Ibria should understand as someone who serves the Lord, the reason for her displeasure remained unclear. If only he could guard her emotions as well...

This was an insurmountable problem that eluded his capabilities.

However, he wasn't given much time to ponder.

The moment when the reddish sunset would be filled with deep indigo was approaching.

"It's time we left, Ibria."

"Haah... Alright, my knight."

The Founding Day imperial palace ball was about to begin.

As it was a national event, the Holy Maiden would be in attendance. Not even the slightest error could be allowed.

Harte escorted Ibria into the carriage.

It was the same 'job' as always.

The annual event of inhaling the scent of perfume infused with aristocratic decadence was about to begin.

Meanwhile, Ibria kept fiddling with the outfit gifted by the imperial family, seemingly pleased with it.

Her beautiful face, even when grinning, was completely unaware.

Of what changes this cloudless festival night might bring...

---

---

Harte's free time came when Ibria had a brief private audience with the Emperor.

Ibria had persuaded Harte, who insisted on fulfilling his duty as her guard knight.

She didn't want to be a woman who constrained him, or something along those lines.

Honestly, he inwardly monologued that it was a ridiculous thing to say, but he didn't show it outwardly. Seeing her speak like that, it seemed she wanted to have a conversation she'd prefer to keep secret even from him.

That was why Harte finally agreed to give her space.

'It's sparkling.'

Harte had come out of the banquet hall and was admiring the well-maintained landscaping.

The lantern lights in the garden creating a lyrical atmosphere and the brilliant light from the chandeliers pouring out of the imperial palace were contradictory yet harmonious. This scenery could rightfully be called a kind of miracle.

At least, that's what Harte thought.

Both the architectural skill to build an awe-inspiring palace and the landscaping skill to create an eye-catching garden were miracles he didn't possess.

As he continued his stroll, Harte's keen hearing picked up a noisy conversation.

It was an argument taking place on the terrace of the banquet hall.

"... That's why I...!"

"Evidence?"

"That kind of thing... You...! Prince..."

The distance was too great, so the conversation was heard in fragments. He could hear it clearly if he focused, but he deliberately chose not to.

Eavesdropping is wrong.

That was morality and common sense.

... Or so he had judged, until that moment.

"...!"

Bewilderment cut through the cool night air.

A woman's startled moan finally reached Harte's ears.

Quickly turning his eyes to the terrace, he saw a woman in an elaborate dress floating in mid-air.

A man with his hand awkwardly outstretched, as if he had pushed something away. And a woman falling, her long hair fluttering.

Harte quickly pieced the situation together.

"Oh no...!"

It was undoubtedly an impulsive murder.

Harte ran swiftly, but sadly, the distance was too great. No matter how extraordinary his physical abilities were, it was physically impossible to respond at such an interval.

So, Harte chose a desperate measure.

Paat!

He lifted his body very low and leaped. He propelled his body forward like a frog swimming. Somehow, he stretched out his hand as far as he could to catch the woman.

"Ugh, reach...!"

Indeed, God was infinitely merciful and granted the earnest wish of their vanguard. With that tremendous spirit of self-sacrifice, Harte managed to get within arm's reach of the woman who was nearing the ground.

Just as his fingertips were about to touch her.

Whirlik!

'... Huh?'

The woman, who had been falling with transcendent detachment like a leaf carried by an autumn wind, adjusted her posture and balance as if performing a circus act. Then, she landed on the ground with perfect form, without any unnecessary movement.

An unexpected turn of events.

Harte's face stiffened rapidly.

And for good reason, as Harte had stretched out his hand in a very 'low posture' while gliding through the low air.

Even for a bearer of a baptismal name, it was impossible to change trajectory mid-air.

Harte's hand, stretched out low and long, ended up exploring the thigh of a woman he had never met before.

"Uh... Uh... Ah...?"

At that moment, Harte's cognitive abilities malfunctioned.

His mind went blank, having made physical contact with a female body for the first time in his life.

The woman's thigh boasted an incredibly mysterious sensation.

The soft skin warmly enveloped his fingers as if sucking them in. At the same time, the elasticity trying to return to its original shape seductively pushed against the intruding fingers. With the simultaneous wrapping and pushing, the thigh proved to be an utterly coy existence, defying verbal description.

As he marveled at this reality that was linguistically challenging to articulate.

Chwak!

The woman with ruby-like eyes looked down at Harte imperiously, tightly folding her fan and infusing it with killing intent.

Soon, stars sparkled in Harte's vision.

"Remove it."

The woman struck Harte's temple with her folded fan. Harte fell over ungracefully and rolled on the ground.

That was the end of it.

Having finished her punishment, the woman haughtily walked away.

Meanwhile, Harte remained sitting in place for a long while, still in shock.

"Ah... Uh... Uh... Ah...?"

The shocking sensation still lingered on his entire palm.

That aftereffect wouldn't easily dissipate.

"What... is this...?"

He muttered once more.

"What kind of feeling is this..."

Harte's mind was filled with question marks, as if he had encountered a mathematical problem requiring astronomical calculations. And his heart, lacking all sense of propriety, kept pounding loudly, interfering with his search for an answer to this phenomenon.

"This... what on earth..."

Though he couldn't immediately produce an answer, it would have been an incredibly simple problem for any third-party observer.

For a man who had vowed chastity for his entire life, it was an experience like being struck by lightning.

.

.

.

The man's name - Harte.

His age, thirty-two.

An unmistakable virgin.

This man, who should have been the furthest from carnal matters.

...... For the first time, his eyes were opened to sex.