Abel’s brain completely shut down in that instant.
In the steamy mist, Elfi’s figure wrapped in a bath towel seemed like some kind of dreamlike illusion.
But the problem was, this illusion was stepping toward him bit by bit, carrying real body heat and fragrance.
“W-wait!” Abel snapped back to reality, his body instinctively shrinking back.
“Elfi, this really isn’t necessary…”
“Does Young Master hate me?” Elfi’s steps halted.
She lowered her eyelids, her thick lashes casting shadows on her cheeks, her voice carrying a hint of grievance.
“I just… want to fulfill a maid’s duties, and also learn more about Young Master…”
“It’s not that I hate you!” Abel was almost frantic. “It’s just…”
He was stumbling over his words—was this woman not playing by the rules?
“Is there a problem?” Elfi lifted her head, her red eyes full of confusion.
“I’ve served Young Master in baths since I was little. When you were seven and fell into the water with a fever, it was me who took care of you with a hot bath.”
“That was when I was seven!”
Abel felt his blood pressure soaring.
“We’re both nineteen now!”
“But Young Master is still Young Master.”
Elfi said it as if it were obvious, taking another step forward.
“In Elfi’s heart, you’ll always be the Abel Young Master who would sneak me out of the mansion and climb trees to pick fruits.”
She knelt by the poolside, reaching out to test the water temperature, her movements so natural it was as if she really was just helping a childhood playmate scrub his back.
The bath towel loosened slightly with her actions, and Abel immediately averted his gaze, feeling his cheeks heat up.
Calm down, Abel, calm down.
You’re someone who’s been through life-and-death battles—how can you be scared by a scene like this?
But reason was one thing; physiological reactions were another.
At nineteen, in the prime of youthful vigor, facing a beautiful girl kneeling beside him wrapped in a bath towel—it would be self-deception to say he felt nothing.
“Th-then, just scrub my back.”
Abel finally conceded, turning around to face away from Elfi.
“I’ll handle the other places myself.”
“Okay, Young Master.”
Elfi’s voice carried a hint of triumphant amusement.
The warm, wet towel pressed against his back, and Elfi’s movements were very gentle.
She wiped carefully, her fingers inadvertently brushing over those crisscrossing scars.
“Young Master…” She spoke softly, her voice trembling a bit.
“These wounds must have hurt a lot, right?”
“It’s fine—I’m used to it.”
Abel tried to make his voice sound calm.
“This one is so deep…”
Her fingertip lightly traced a hideous scar on his shoulder blade. “How did it happen?”
“In the eastern desert, slashed by a sand bandit’s curved blade. Nearly died, but luckily a caravan saved me.”
“And this one?” Another knife scar on his side.
“In the Witch’s Forest, bitten by a swamp giant crocodile—poisonous. I was down for half a month before recovering.”
“And this…” Elfi’s finger paused on a circular scar at his lower back, the mark of a penetrating wound.
“Crossbow bolt.” Abel said succinctly.
“Northern Ice Plains, left by a group of cultists worshiping some demon king.”
With each scar he described, Elfi’s movements grew a fraction gentler.
By the end, her fingers were almost just skimming over the scars, as if caressing some fragile treasure.
“Young Master has… suffered so much outside these years.” Her voice was muffled.
Tears welled in her eyes as she imagined the dangers Abel had faced in his adventures abroad.
If she could keep him here, he wouldn’t have to face those crises anymore…
That’s what Lord Julius had told her.
“It’s no big deal.” Abel tried to lighten the mood. “A knight’s scars are medals and honors, right?”
“I don’t want that kind of medal.” Elfi said in a low voice, her tone a bit resentful.
“I just want Young Master to be safe and sound.”
Abel’s heart stirred, but before he could say anything, he suddenly felt the sensation on his back change.
Abel froze entirely.
He slowly, slowly turned his head, not knowing what to say.
Her cheek was pressed against his shoulder blade, her arms wrapped around his waist, holding him tight.
“E-Elfi?!” Abel’s voice cracked. “Wh-what are you doing?!”
“It’s just what Young Master is thinking.”
Elfi’s voice sounded in his ear, carrying warm breath. “Grandpa said men all like this. To capture the heart, first capture…”
“What on earth has Sebas been teaching you?!”
Abel was on the verge of collapse.
That prim and proper old butler, secretly instilling this kind of knowledge in his granddaughter?!
He tried to break free, but…
“S-Sutis is still watching!” Abel finally thought of an excuse. “This isn’t good influence for a child!”
“Hm?” Elfi lifted her head, looking toward the other side of the hot spring.
Abel followed her gaze.
Then both fell silent.
By the pool edge, Sutis was sprawled on a smooth rock, her emerald-green long hair plastered wetly to her face.
Her eyes were closed, her little mouth slightly open, emitting even breathing sounds.
She was asleep.
In such a tense moment when I need you, you’re actually asleep?!
Wake up and interrupt! Weren’t you declaring sovereignty at the door earlier?!
“Looks like Miss Sutis is tired.” Elfi said softly, pressing her face back against Abel’s back. “So it’s fine, Young Master…”
“It’s not fine!”
Abel finally regained a shred of reason. He took a deep breath and said in as serious a tone as possible, “Elfi, listen to me. You doing this… I’m grateful, but no.”
“Why?” Elfi’s voice carried grievance. “Does Young Master not like me?”
“No, Elfi—you, me, and Big Brother grew up together. I’ve never seen you as just a ‘servant’!”
Abel tried to calm his somewhat racing heartbeat, explaining methodically. “In my heart, you’re no different from family, so…”
“So?”
Elfi’s eyes sparkled like fragments of stars.
“Elfi should cherish herself more, value herself.”
Elfi lowered her eyelids slightly, seeming to understand something.
She leaned against Abel’s back and said softly, “I understand, Young Master.”
Abel felt a bit uneasy inside too.
The people he hated most were those who were insincere, toying with others’ feelings.
He didn’t have romantic feelings for Elfi—at least not yet—so he wouldn’t accept her affections.
Since he didn’t have feelings for her, why delay her?
He hated those heroines from the Myanmar North 2D games. If he accepted Elfi’s feelings now, what difference would there be between him and them?
Moreover, next he was going straight to storm the goddess’s nest! Even if he was confident, he couldn’t guarantee he’d definitely return.
At least wait until after this battle to consider going home and getting married?
“Let me hug you a little longer—just a little, Young Master.”
He heard Elfi’s voice by his ear, and this time he didn’t refuse.
Abel couldn’t see Elfi’s expression.
If he could, he’d definitely be startled—the maid’s eyes held no disappointment at all, but instead burned with fierce determination!
‘It’s exactly this kind of Young Master Abel that I like!’
I absolutely, absolutely won’t give up!