Virgin Knight Who Is the Frontier Lord in the Gender Switched World - Chapter 103

These past few days, sleepless nights have been my constant companions.

All that occupies my thoughts is Lord Faust.

My heart and body are consumed by anguish.

That night.

I recall visiting the grave, the night I first fell in love.

My mother’s grave is located at the very back, far from the cemetery’s entrance.

It’s made of small, fresh limestone.

There are no decorative motifs, but the tombstone, though simple, is adorned with flowers that Lord Faust must have placed there before.

“Lord Faust.”

I spit out his name as if in a fever.

Merely uttering his name makes my cheeks burn.

It’s as if I’m feverish.

Lying on my bed like a sick person, no more words escape me.

He is truly, thoroughly selfish.

“Ah.”

The fire has been lit.

The evening has ended, and darkness has fully set in, illuminated only by countless stars and the full moon.

Under the fleeting light of the heavens.

The acolyte, foolishly without even a torch, has kindled a fire for those two, Lord Faust and the squire.

I trace the name etched on the illuminated tombstone with my finger.

Indeed, it was written there.

Caroline.

“…”

How can I possibly express the emotions of that moment?

What feelings can I convey to Lord Faust, who attempted to save all of me?

No words come out.

Silence reigns; no one utters a sound.

Lord Faust, as if he had already said everything, remains silent.

Even the acolyte seems to suggest that no more words are necessary.

No one spoke during the noisy journey, and the visit to the grave concluded in utter silence.

“…”

On the return journey, it seemed unlikely that any meaningful words would emerge.

Along the way, Lord Faust occasionally gently strokes my back.

Now, lying on the bed.

Beside my head, Marianne sleeps.

Lord Faust’s mother, and a cat named after her, sits regally.

And I, in my room, draw the blanket close and curl up tight.

Such nights persist.

I cannot sleep.

Tormented by this feverish, first love.

Calling out his name alone.

“Lord Faust was—”

The words he spoke to me then, I repeat in my head over and over again.

“It was all my doing, selfishly. So, Martina, please don’t worry about it.”

I repeat those words.

Lord Faust simply did it because he disliked it.

Everything is done to avoid mental discomfort.

It’s all just self-satisfaction.

Not self-sacrifice, but rather self-indulgence.

Such selfish actions out of self-love; you need not worry about them.

Speaking sincerely, lying about his deeds.

I am deeply troubled by this image.

“Ah.”

Excited, or so it seems.

Aroused, or so it seems.

If I modify the vulgar expression a bit.

This man, as a woman, I truly desire him.

Such comforting words, far from the spirit of chivalry, unlike religious morality, who else could confess this as their whole heart?

Who else but Lord Faust could have done this for me?

“Who can understand?”

I alone am currently completely consumed by the desire to understand Lord Faust.

Thinking of this, I can’t help but feel excited.

No one knows.

The banal fiancée, Her Highness Valiere, the Second Princess.

The seemingly cruel and heartless Her Highness Anastasia, the First Princess.

The intellectual Elector, Her Majesty Queen Liesenlotte.

Even the mad Sabine.

They do not understand his true nature.

They don’t know that the brilliance of Lord Faust, like the full moon, far outshines the twinkling stars in the night sky.

Ah, yes.

Why Duchess Astarte is so captivated by this man, Faust von Polydoro.

As a perverted spy obsessed with talent, I shamefully conducted an investigation into Lord Faust’s personal life.

Understanding what Duchess Astarte desires.

Finally, I “truly” understood everything from the bottom of my heart.

“In regard to Duchess Astarte alone, I never saw Lord Faust as equal to other talented shining stars.”

Under the night sky, cruelly beautiful as a full moon, I saw it.

Lord Faust’s true nature lies not in the heroic image lauded under the sun, but in the gentleness that silently strokes one’s back in the dark.

To my knowledge, perhaps only Duchess Astarte, like me, truly understands Lord Faust’s essence.

If there is another, it could only be Queen Katarina of Virendorf, who shares the same sorrow.

No, not yet.

Neither Duchess Astarte nor Queen Katarina fully comprehend yet.

They might someday, but they have not yet fully grasped it.

They do not understand the uniqueness of Lord Faust in this world.

His kindness, derived from values that could almost be called abnormal, remains unrecognized.

But it’s only a matter of time.

If they knew, if they understood his warped kindness, everyone would deeply fall for Lord Faust.

That is all too easy to imagine.

“That is what is most terrifying.”

Those oddly obsessed with Lord Faust, despite not yet fully understanding him.

Especially the terrifying passion of Duchess Astarte.

It’s somewhat unpleasant now to understand why someone known as Duchess Astarte is so insanely fixated on Lord Faust.

—Now, regarding me and Lord Faust.

Now that I harbor these feelings, I have come to understand.

His pessimism, skeptical of any distinction between good and evil when it comes to his pride.

Sometimes his expression bears a melancholic shadow that doesn’t even seem pessimistic.

And I find that alluring.

A woman awakened, revealing somewhat ugly desires.

This man’s sad face belongs to me.

I want him to show that melancholic face only to me, forever.

I harbored a tremendously base emotion.

“Die!”

Spitting at myself, I bang my head on the bed.

Hoping the pain might restore my sanity.

But to the vibration and noise, Marianne meowed uncomfortably.

“Meow.”

I’ve disturbed her sleep.

“I’m sorry! Marianne!!”

I apologize sincerely to Marianne.

But it was unavoidable.

I hope she forgives me for acting like a mad acolyte of the Cologne Sect.

What am I thinking?

It’s far too terrible.

Desire.

I found joy in Lord Faust’s anxious, troubled expression.

Looking back now, there is nothing as beautiful in this world as the unstable Lord Faust.

Because he is so.

So kind, so valiant, so beautiful, so noble.

Can you understand?

Who in this world can grasp that Lord Faust is doing something wrong?

Who can understand his beautiful stance of persisting with his pride despite knowing it may be criticized?

Who can appreciate his loyalty to his convictions?

Everyone will love Lord Faust.

The citizens of Polydoro, the clergy of the Cologne Sect, the royals of the Anhalt Kingdom, even the mad Sabine.

Though they differ in degree, they understand.

The person known as Faust von Polydoro is exceedingly upright.

That man, unaware of the lust others harbor towards him, indifferent even to the contempt for ugly men despite being a muscular man over 2 meters tall.

As long as one does not mock his mother, Polydoro, and all his pride, he will probably show kindness to everything.

“Ah”

While lying in bed, I cover my face with both hands.

There is no impurity.

He himself was pure.

Thinking of his position, it’s unbearably harsh.

Calm down, me.

Faust von Polydoro is not someone who should harbor such desires.

He is not a man who should receive such terribly impure desires.

But I can’t help but feel them.

I am beginning to understand my sexuality as a woman.

“Is first love always this painful?”

Probably not.

It must be slightly different from the lust a typical woman feels towards a man.

Where one man and nine women are the norm.

It’s common for sisters, families, or households to share a husband due to the shortage of men.

But even if it’s a social norm, there are still conflicts.

Everyone wants to monopolize a man.

It’s not strange for me to harbor feelings solely for Lord Faust.

“But…”

My feelings have become terribly distorted from the social norm.

Through my first love, I have become such a woman.

Perhaps my taste in men is terribly biased towards Lord Faust.

He is scorned as an ugly man in Anhalt.

I am enchanted by the muscular figure of Lord Faust.

The large muscles on his back that once carried me were surprisingly soft, more comfortable than this bed.

His large hands, rough with calluses from the sword, are incredibly gentle when they touch me.

Every time he calls my name, “Martina,” it feels like a part of my heart is being touched.

I am in love.

I can no longer be satisfied with anyone but him.

Jealousy.

“…”

There is jealousy.

The possibility of my first love being reciprocated.

It’s slim to none.

Lord Faust is engaged to Valiere, the Second Princess of Anhalt Kingdom.

And he might also be a lover candidate for Anastasia and Duchess Astarte.

Honestly, it’s doubtful if I could ever shift my attention to another man after connecting with Lord Faust.

Thinking of the few men I’ve met in my life, they were indecisive, lacking the unyielding spirit of Lord Faust, and terribly unreliable.

Once you know Lord Faust, nothing else seems worthwhile.

That’s why those two will definitely make him their lover.

They will choose him to father their children.

That would be good for Lord Faust.

Though the people of Polydoro might greatly dislike it, they were impeccable as a noble society’s backing.

However.

To me, they are merely the targets of my ugly jealousy.

The possibility of my first love being fulfilled is low; to me, they are an endlessly enviable existence.

“What matters is Lord Faust’s heart.”

I think.

Desperately circulating blood through this superhuman brain.

There is a 13-year age difference between us, 22 and 9 years old.

Even if it’s not significant for noble society, Lord Faust only sees me as a child.

Even if he might die for me as I grow up, it’s highly dubious whether he would ever embrace me.

That is a critically important issue that is difficult to address.

I want.

I want Lord Faust.

I want to bear Lord Faust’s children.

But how do I seduce that man?

One day, I must graduate from being a squire and leave Polydoro.

I must rise in society from the difficult position of being the daughter of a traitor.

It seemed like that would comfort my late mother, Caroline.

“Rising in society…”

Thinking about it pains my heart again.

Lord Faust is not the kind to whore around.

How could such a clean man be a man who opens his legs for any woman?

That’s not possible.

But now I understand that Lord Faust, for me, could easily do such dirty things.

Lord Faust would open himself up to a true pervert like Duchess Astarte!

Because of me!

That fact, that fact!

“Ah.”

I am, somehow, harboring some bad feelings.

If this were anger, it would be better.

It would be better if it were pure anger against the unfairness of the world or against Duchess Astarte.

What do I have to be ashamed of in the world?

But it’s different.

This feeling is different.

“Why, how could”

The words of lament continue.

I have just learned the taste of first love.

It would have been okay to harbor bad feelings against everything in the world that interferes with my romantic desires.

But my true feelings are different.

Everything to be ashamed of is right here.

“Why am I, why am I slightly excited that Lord Faust would open himself up to Duchess Astarte for me?”

I cover my face with both hands.

I wanted to die.

Martina von Bösel had come to understand a bit of Duchess Astarte’s perversion.

The excitement was unbearable, knowing how that clean being could be tainted by something so ugly.

Martina had to admit she was a hopeless case.

That sin alone, that sexual preference, was something I couldn’t blame on Faust.

The sleepless nights are still not over.