The Villainess Proposed a Contractual Marriage

Chapter 67: The Protagonist's Adversity

"Huh... what?"

Elphisia's brain melted like eternal snow in early summer, and Harte's mind was likewise liquefying.

Application motivation? What on earth had he applied for? Surely Ibria hadn't secretly submitted a resume to the Duke's mansion on his behalf?

After considering all possibilities, Harte arrived at his own rationalization.

'I-I see. The Duchess must have been flustered too. Of course she would be. When the man who touched her shows up shamelessly, it'd be strange if she didn't misspeak...'

It was a speculation worthy of 50 points out of 100.

He'd correctly guessed that Elphisia was flustered, but the rest was mere fiction scribbled by Harte's delusions.

Oblivious to this, Harte slowly dropped to his knees.

"I'm truly, sincerely... so sorry!!!"

As he prostrated himself, forehead pressed to the ground, Harte's thoughts were simple.

He interpreted the question about application motivation as asking why he had come. Thus, the only thing Harte could do was apologize.

The one who raised Harte from this position was the elderly butler accompanying Elphisia.

"P-Please stand up! No matter how intimidating the Duchess may be, there's no etiquette dictating you should kowtow during an interview...!"

"... Pardon? Interview? Interview?"

Harte repeated the word blankly, as if his processing ability had malfunctioned.

"What do you mean interview... What interview?"

"... My word, what's going on...?"

At this point, even the elderly butler's brain began to melt. The conversation was going nowhere. The butler found himself doubting whether he had properly understood the schedule.

"Haah..."

In a world where everyone seemed to be turning into fools together, Elphisia tiredly pressed her palm to her forehead.

She issued an order to the butler.

"... There seems to be some misunderstanding. Butler, you may withdraw now... And you, shall we sit down and have a chat?"

---

---

Elphisia, having composed her wavering emotions, gazed at Harte with indifferent eyes. As she did so, she crossed her legs, the slender lines of her dress accentuating the movement of her limbs.

Harte shifted his shoulders awkwardly and averted his gaze.

The ensuing silence was unbearably uncomfortable.

Yet he couldn't force the victim to speak first in this situation.

It was Harte who broke the ice.

"... I came to the Duke's mansion to apologize for the indecent act I committed during the Imperial Palace ball."

"Is that all?"

"Huh? Yes... that's right."

It wasn't uncommon for nobles to use their status to harass someone. But it was rare for the perpetrator to sincerely apologize to the victim.

Of course, no man had ever dared to act on his lustful desires towards Elphisia, the mistress of the Empire's most influential house.

However, Harte was a high-ranking member of the Temple.

If he wanted, he could do whatever he pleased wherever he went without needing to apologize.

'If he's the bearer of a baptismal name... he'd be even less likely to.'

Elphisia's father, who had left on a journey after inheriting the title of Duke long ago, had repeatedly warned her. Never treat the bearers of baptismal names as equals.

Common sense means nothing before them, he'd said.

Considering how that strong man refused to attend even national events due to a single promise to the Pope, it was unlikely to be nonsense.

But look at the man before her.

Wasn't he more human than human, cowering and watching her every move?

'Is it really necessary to apologize so excessively for a mistake made while trying to save someone?'

Elphisia found herself questioning.

Her nature was far from merciful. But she was rational enough to know that making a mistake while trying to save her wasn't a grave sin.

Especially since he was the Commander of the Holy Knight Order, not some commoner. Let alone being the bearer of a baptismal name that Cardi Luminel praised daily.

"Hmm."

So Elphisia decided to test the waters.

She had heard plenty about bearers of baptismal names, but the only glimpse she'd had of Harte in person was him standing properly next to the Holy Maiden.

She calculated that if she could confirm his true nature through a bit of physical contact, it would be worth it.

"I might forgive you."

"R-Really?"

"Yes."

Elphisia steepled her fingers.

"But in exchange, show me a miracle that the bearer of a baptismal name can perform. That level of entertainment would be just right to forget that day's incident."

"A miracle...?"

"Anything will do. Turn water into wine, multiply a single loaf of bread... do as you please."

It had been a while since she'd encountered such an intriguing subject. The prospect of witnessing an inaccessible miracle was tantalizing. Her heart, which had died in her teens, came alive and began to race.

However, Harte directly betrayed Elphisia's hopes.

"... I'm sorry. I can't do that."

"What did you say?"

"Divine power shouldn't be used for personal amusement. That's the virtue our Lord desires."

He recited the line with a rigid tone, as if reading from a moral textbook.

Elphisia's heart, which had briefly warmed, turned cold again. The spark that had lit up her eyes faded, leaving them dull and disinterested.

'In the end, he's just a man with pretty words.'

As she leaned back against the plush sofa with a bored expression, Harte fidgeted his fingers as if ashamed. In contrast to Elphisia, he sat with his back straight, hands neatly placed on his knees.

His next promise, tinged with responsibility, once again piqued Elphisia's interest.

"Anything besides divine power is fine. I'll do whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness."

"... Whatever it takes?"

"Ah, um... I can't do anything that would harm or hurt someone's feelings either."

"You exaggerate with every word, don't you?"

"Ugh..."

"Well, fine."

A moment later, Elphisia prepared paper and pen, and began writing neatly. At a glance, it appeared to be in the form of a contract.

Harte's gaze was drawn by curiosity. His head gradually leaned towards the paper filling up with writing.

"Sign it."

"This is..."

"A contract stating you'll become my knight for the next year. If you're not just all talk, you should gladly sign it, right?"

Elphisia knew full well how absurd and unreasonable this contract was. Trying to bind the Commander of the Holy Knight Order for a year over an accidental touch of the thigh.

No sane person would agree to such a contract.

But Elphisia strongly sensed it.

The man before her was likely an incredible pushover who'd simply lacked opportunities to show it. He might even agree to a contract that no one in their right mind would sign.

And in reality, Elphisia's prediction came true disappointingly easily.

"I have to carry out my Temple duties until at least 4 PM. So I'll be your knight from 5 PM to 6 AM. Is that alright?"

"Good heavens, what the..."

"Pardon?"

"... No, it's fine. Sign it as is."

"Thank you for your consideration."

Consideration?

What nonsense.

From 5 PM to 6 AM, he says.

Presumably, 6 AM is when the Temple's duties begin. That means out of 24 hours in a day, Harte would have less than an hour to sleep.

Just the fact that a human could endure such a murderous schedule was already a living testament to miracles.

"You... sleep?"

"For me, sleep is merely a preference. Please don't concern yourself."

"... Ha."

Elphisia gave up trying to understand any further. He was a fellow who calmly stated facts with an innocent face. Now she could believe the exploits her father never tired of boasting about.

Harte finished signing with a light heart, then extended his hand to Elphisia.

"With this, I've become your knight. I look forward to working with you for the next year."

"... Right."

"Now, would you introduce me to the duties I'll be undertaking?"

He eagerly sought work despite having just been employed. His enthusiasm, rising without knowing the fundamentals even after taking on an unfair contract, was fascinating.

Meanwhile, Elphisia, who was at a loss for what tasks to assign, spoke languidly.

"You'll attend to me."

---

---

"Sir Askalion! We have an emergency. The supplies for aid have been cut off!"

"What did you say?"

Askalion furrowed his brow at his subordinate's report. He blinked his elegantly long lashes and asked for the cause.

"If supplies are cut off now, the slum improvement plan is as good as scrapped. Have you found the reason?"

"Well... it seems Duke Luminel has co-opted all the related merchant groups."

"That person again..."

Askalion heaved a deep sigh.

Elphisia Luminel was always like this. Whenever he laid the groundwork to achieve something, she invariably demolished it. Like waves sweeping away a sand castle.

As he pondered countermeasures, a woman emerged from the darkness.

"Why does she always interfere with you?"

Her crimson-tinged hair was tied back in a ponytail. Conflict lingered in her sorrowful blue eyes.

The woman's name was Tina, Askalion's personal guard.

To this guard who still retained traces of innocence, Askalion voiced the harsh reality.

"Because maintaining the current system benefits her."

"Even though people are suffering so much, just for that..."

"To become Emperor, I need to build my power. But in that process, I'm bound to clash with Duke Luminel."

The Luminel ducal house had grown excessively powerful since Elphisia became head of the family. The Imperial family was already half a figurehead, and it was no exaggeration to say that House Luminel was the Empire.

In other words, for Askalion to increase his power, he inevitably had to absorb part of House Luminel's pie.

Therefore, rather than lose it to an upstart royal, Elphisia Luminel intended to maintain the current Empire.

That was her intention.

"But can we win? She's... too formidable."

"We must win. For the sake of our goals."

While reaffirming his resolve, Askalion fell into contemplation.

"If only we could find some weakness, something that would make the world turn against her..."

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