Chapter 113: Chapter 112: Bathing Together, Discussing Matters

As the last piece of armor was removed, Jon rolled his somewhat stiff shoulders, feeling a wave of relief.

He turned to face the demure, silver-haired beauty before him, his eyes filled with approval.

"You did meticulous work, Rosalind. These three locations each have their pros and cons, but they all meet the basic requirements."

"The hall by the North Gate Main Road is cost-effective, the abandoned church’s concealment and basement space are appealing, and Grent Manor is also great for being so well-equipped."

"I’ll find some time to inspect them tomorrow. I’ll make a decision after considering the budget and our future needs."

"Yes, Master."

Rosalind replied softly, placing the removed armor pieces neatly on the table.

She lowered her head slightly, strands of silver hair sliding down her cheek, partially obscuring her cool, aloof features.

With the armor off, his under-tunic was exposed to the air, and Jon felt sticky all over, giving him an urgent desire to wash up.

He casually undid the top two buttons of his shirt, revealing his well-defined collarbones and a patch of sweat-dampened chest. As he walked toward the door leading to the private washroom, he spoke casually.

"Thank you for your hard work. It’s getting late. You should go rest; I’m going to take a bath."

However, as he gripped the washroom doorknob, about to go in, he keenly sensed that the cool gaze from behind had not left him.

Jon stopped and looked back, a little surprised.

Rosalind was standing perfectly still.

The warm yellow light danced on her silver hair and long lashes, tracing a soft silhouette.

Her silver eyes, usually as calm and placid as a frozen lake, were now fixed on him unblinkingly.

But her gaze seemed to hold less of its usual chill and a hint more warmth, like water stirring silently beneath a thick sheet of ice at the coming of spring.

"Master, shall I attend you in your bath?"

There was no coyness, no seductive air; she spoke as if she were stating the most natural and logical thing in the world.

For a servant to attend their master’s bath was a perfectly normal occurrence in this world.

But to Jon, a man from a modern world, the proposal was more than a little provocative.

The stark contrast between her matter-of-fact delivery and her cool demeanor only added a fatal allure.

It was inevitable, then, that he froze for a moment.

But a moment later, Jon laughed.

He was laughing at himself for still not having adapted to the Rules of this world.

’But maybe there’s no harm in adapting when it comes to something this... enticing.’

’Before me is the loyal follower who offered me the Soul Contract. She is my woman. What is there to be coy about?’

And so, a playful smirk slowly crept onto Jon’s lips, gradually widening into an undisguised, wicked grin, full of aggression and possessiveness.

He let go of the doorknob, turned around, and faced Rosalind at his leisure. He deliberately drew out his words, his voice laced with obvious amusement.

"Oh? Together?"

His gaze was appraising and held a hint of mischief, as if admiring a treasure that had finally shed its icy shell. He slowly looked her over from head to toe.

The warmth in his eyes made Rosalind’s seemingly calm breath hitch.

Then Jon slowly stepped forward. The masculine scent of a Warrior—a mixture of sweat, dust, and the faint tang of blood—instantly enveloped the ice-cool Rosalind.

He leaned down, close to her ear, his hot breath brushing against its sensitive shell.

"Alright. Come on."

Those three short words, like a key, instantly shattered an invisible barrier.

Rosalind’s long, silver lashes trembled. Without resistance or another word, she took a single, submissive step forward, her body now pressed almost flush against Jon’s.

She lifted her gaze slightly. Beneath the ice of her silver eyes, something deeper seemed to be stirring, waiting to be fully ignited.

Jon wrapped an arm around her waist and pushed open the washroom door. Warm light and billowing steam flowed out, enveloping them both...

...

Like the gentlest of embraces, warm water gurgled from a beast-headed spout of cast bronze, quickly filling the tub. It rose past their waists, seeming to melt away all the snowstorms, conspiracies, and clamor of the outside world.

"Ah... so relaxing..."

Jon leaned against the polished wall of the tub and let out a contented sigh. The hot water soaked into his tense muscles, allowing them to slowly loosen.

Ever since meeting Reya, he had been through days of non-stop fighting and travel. Only now could he finally rest for a moment.

Even though his Constitution, comparable to that of an Official Level Warrior, kept him from feeling physical fatigue, his mental exhaustion still required true rest to be alleviated.

He closed his eyes, feeling the gentle caress of the water and the soft body pressed close beside him, which was also beginning to relax.

Rosalind knelt beside Jon. Her silver, ear-length hair, damp with steam, clung in strands to her flawless skin. Her perpetually cool and clear eyes had taken on a hazy softness.

She was massaging Jon’s broad, firm shoulders and back with her slender fingers, attempting to better soothe his exhaustion.

Although her movements were not practiced, and she lacked the strength to truly work his muscles, her attitude was one of devout concentration, as if she were carrying out a sacred mission. It filled Jon with a deep, heartfelt pleasure.

’So this is what they call "emotional value," huh?’

’A beauty who’s so cool and aloof in public is nestled skin-to-skin beside you, massaging your shoulders and arms with single-minded focus. Who could possibly resist that?’

’No wonder they say the arms of a beautiful woman are a hero’s tomb. How many great men have fallen at this very hurdle?’

In the steam-filled tranquility, both his fatigue and his emotions were slowly, silently melting away.

"You’re tired too."

Jon didn’t open his eyes. His voice was low and muffled by the steam, but it reached Rosalind’s ears with perfect clarity.

"The trading post, Reya’s situation, and the tasks I gave you... it’s all fallen on your shoulders."

Rosalind’s massaging hands paused for a fraction of a second before resuming. Her voice was just as soft, as if she were afraid of disturbing the rare tranquility.

"It is my duty, Master. Miss Rhea’s condition has stabilized, and the trading post’s affairs are on the right track. It is no hardship."

She paused for a moment before adding,

"Easing your burdens is my duty."

An almost imperceptible smile touched the corners of Jon’s mouth.

In their few intimate "interactions," he had already begun to understand this follower of his.

Beneath her icy exterior, she concealed a passionate heart.

Whether it was offering her body to him to save Reya, her later nighttime visit, or her current request to bathe with him, it all proved something.

Therefore, the "duty" she spoke of was already laced with something more—something much more genuine.

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