Chapter 33
Zigmunt knew weaknesses about Arnulf that even Arnulf himself didn’t realize.
Back in the day, whenever Arnulf was flustered or embarrassed, his ears would turn red—just like they were now.
Zigmunt leaned close to Arnulf’s flushed ear, his lips hovering near without touching. Yet the heat between them was almost tangible.
“Wouldn’t it be embarrassing to fall in front of me?”
Arnulf’s shoulders trembled at the quiet whisper.
Ugh…!
It was the warmth of Zigmunt’s breath tickling his ear that made him shiver. Zigmunt’s smile deepened at the sight.
Arnulf, caught off guard, was half-dragged, half-guided as they moved together. He didn’t stumble thanks to the support, but the embarrassment was unbearable.
Arnulf thought he was hiding it well—but not at all. His body flinched every time their strides aligned and brushed against each other.
“Haa…”
When they finally reached the bathroom, Arnulf let out a long sigh of relief before he even realized it.
Of course, Zigmunt noticed—but Arnulf was too distracted to care.
“Then, take your time and wash up.”
The arm that had been around his waist loosened. Zigmunt’s tone was kind as he left, but Arnulf couldn’t respond.
Because the reflection staring back at him in the bathroom mirror made him speechless.
“What the…”
He had thought he was getting used to this face, but it was crimson red—his cheeks, his forehead, his ears, even his neck.
How could he have pretended to act calm looking like that? The thought alone made him avert his gaze in shame.
He stumbled toward the bathtub filled with water, too mortified to keep looking in the mirror.
After washing—his mind still tangled with embarrassment—another problem arose: he had nothing to wear.
After a moment of hesitation, Arnulf reluctantly opened the door. He would have to ask Zigmunt to bring him clothes.
“Lord Zigmunt?”
No answer. Arnulf called again and cautiously poked his head out, but the room was empty.
“Where did he go?”
He didn’t think Zigmunt would just leave.
Sure enough, just as he was brushing the damp hair off his forehead, the door opened.
“Ah, you’re already done. I went to pick up the laundry we left with the staff.”
Zigmunt entered, carrying neatly folded clothes in his hands.
“Here. Put these on.”
Arnulf accepted them absentmindedly and began dressing. He didn’t even notice Zigmunt’s gaze quietly lingering on him the whole time.
Instead, Arnulf’s thoughts drifted to the ring tucked in his pocket.
“Lord Zigmunt.”
He felt the hard object at his fingertips. If Zigmunt had handled the laundry, he might have seen the ring.
“Yes?”
Zigmunt tilted his head slightly, waiting for him to continue—but Arnulf couldn’t bring himself to ask.
What could he say?
“Did you go through my pockets?”
“Did you check if anything was inside before sending it for cleaning?”
Both would make it sound like he was hiding something.
“Did the staff come in to tidy the room?” Arnulf finally asked, skirting around the real question.
“Yes. I thought it might be difficult for you to rest otherwise.”
Zigmunt’s answer was calm, without a hint of suspicion. Arnulf assumed the staff must have taken the clothes to the hotel’s laundry service—so they probably hadn’t noticed the ring.
That was… a relief.
“Don’t worry,” Zigmunt added. “I instructed them only to tidy the bed and collect laundry. I told them to put any personal belongings back in the pockets to prevent loss.”
“Ah…”
Zigmunt, mistaking Arnulf’s hesitation for embarrassment, continued gently.
“Since you were still here, I couldn’t let the staff in, so I took the clothes myself. Did you lose something?”
Arnulf quickly shook his head and rolled the ring between his fingers.
He made a mental note to buy a chain for it as soon as he left the hotel.
“Excuse me.”
A polite voice came from outside. Zigmunt stepped over and opened the door. A hotel employee stood there with a large tray.
“I’ve brought your meal.”
Zigmunt looked back. Arnulf nodded in approval, smoothing his clothes, so the staff entered.
The employee kept their eyes respectfully lowered—not at Arnulf, not at Zigmunt—having been sternly told by the manager not to show curiosity or glance around.
After setting the food neatly on the table, they bowed and left.
“I asked for something light,” Zigmunt explained, “since I thought your stomach might be unsettled.”
“Huh?”
Why would he think that? Arnulf wondered briefly, then assumed Zigmunt thought he was simply tired.
Of course, the real reason was that Zigmunt had ordered food to help Arnulf recover from last night’s intense and heated activities—but Arnulf had no idea.
After the meal, Arnulf planned to part ways with Zigmunt right outside the hotel.
That way, he could visit a jeweler and buy a chain for the ring.
But that was only his plan.
“I’ll escort you back,” said Zigmunt.
Arnulf frowned. “It’s not far. I can go alone.”
“It’s not far, so it’s fine to go together. Or… am I a burden to you? Because we only spent one night together?”
“That’s not what I meant…”
Of course not. He’d just meant they should go their separate ways, as usual.
Then Arnulf suddenly remembered—they used to argue like this all the time.
Back then, when they were stationed on the border or on campaign, Zigmunt was always by his side.
But once they returned to the capital, that was no longer necessary. The city was safe.
Still, every time they left the palace together, Zigmunt would insist on escorting him.
Arnulf would refuse, saying it wasn’t necessary—but Zigmunt would call it “protection.”
And when Arnulf argued that there was no need for protection in the capital, Zigmunt would only look hurt and ask if he was being a burden.
In the end, Arnulf always gave in.
This felt exactly the same.
“You know that’s not what I meant,” Arnulf muttered, frowning awkwardly.
His tone came out gruff—but that unguarded side was something only Zigmunt ever saw.
He hadn’t expected to show that same familiarity again, even while inside Josef’s body.
“Then there’s no reason to refuse, is there? Shall we go?” Zigmunt said with a small smile.
Arnulf sighed inwardly. He had no choice but to follow.
I’ll pretend to head home first, then sneak off to the jeweler later, he decided, watching Zigmunt’s back as they walked.
A dull ache pulsed below his waist, and the inside of his thighs throbbed faintly. Even his calves felt a bit sore.
His whole body still seemed to radiate heat—but his expression remained neutral.
He’d endured worse after days of ambush and combat; this was nothing.
At some point, Zigmunt slowed his pace to match Arnulf’s, though Arnulf didn’t notice.
Thanks to that, the walk back to the mansion took longer than expected.
“Lord Josef!”
Just as they crossed the front gate, a desperate voice called out.
Pin came running, tears welling in his eyes.
“Where have you been?!”
He anxiously scanned his master’s face. Arnulf looked utterly exhausted—his lips slightly swollen, dark circles under his eyes.
“Did you get into a fight somewhere?” Pin asked, face darkening.
Ever since the accident, his master had seemed like a different person—but lately, he’d been going out more, especially after meeting Sieben.
Pin worried he was falling back into his reckless old habits.
Arnulf instantly caught on to what his servant was thinking.
“No, I didn’t fight anyone. I just happened to run into Lord Zigmunt, had a few drinks, and stayed out late. Sorry for making you worry.”
Pin blinked in surprise at the gentle apology, then noticed Zigmunt standing nearby.
“That’s all right. I’m just glad you’re home safely. Lord Zigmunt—my apologies for the late greeting.”
Zigmunt gave a curt nod to the bowing servant, then turned to Arnulf.
“Then I’ll take my leave. Please rest well. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You’re not staying for training today?” Arnulf asked suddenly.
The comment made Zigmunt pause mid-turn. Arnulf’s tone was casual, but it sounded almost disappointed.
Zigmunt studied his face—pale, drawn, tired. Even the servant had noticed how drained he looked. Arnulf himself, of course, had no idea.
He’d always been oblivious to his own condition—so it was no wonder he’d never noticed Zigmunt’s feelings either.
But that would change now.
Zigmunt’s gaze briefly flicked toward Arnulf’s pocket—where the ring lay—then away again, as if nothing had happened.
“You’re not feeling well,” Zigmunt said softly. “You should rest today.”
“Ah…”
Arnulf still felt a faint ache in his muscles, but nothing unbearable.
“Your stomach might hurt too,” Zigmunt added.
“My… stomach?”
It sounded just like what he’d said earlier in the hotel.
But once again, Arnulf failed to grasp the meaning.
“I tried to take care of things while you slept,” Zigmunt continued, “but… considering the long and productive night we had—”
“—!”
Arnulf’s face twisted in mortified realization.
“What on earth are you saying…!”
Zigmunt only gave him a calm, innocent look, as if he didn’t understand the problem.
“So, please rest well today. We’ll train tomorrow.”
With a courteous bow, Zigmunt turned and walked away.
Arnulf stood frozen, watching his retreating back—his face rigid as stone.
He didn’t even notice Pin glancing between the two of them with wide, bewildered eyes.
