The Banished Black Swordsman Wants a Peaceful Life with the White Saint in the Frontier ~Huh? You Want Him to Come Back with the Saint? It’s Already Too Late~ - 58

Chapter 58: The Awkward Tension and Her Decision

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The night fields slowly unraveled into white as the horses’ breath clouded the air. Sitting on the driver’s seat, Lloyd made sure not to loosen the reins too much. The wheels caught on ruts and bounced slightly, a thin pain running up his back. From the cargo bed, he could hear neither the faint clinking of dishes nor the familiar quiet humming. All that reached his ears were the dry sounds of hooves striking the earth and the creaking of the axle.

I need to say something…

How many times had he thought that since leaving the Barmasty Trading Company? Yet the words that rose as far as his throat lost their shape there. None of them felt right.

『Are you okay?』

『I’m sorry about earlier.』

The words came to mind easily, but if he spoke them aloud, they would sound hollow, almost like lies. In the end, only his breath turned white and dissolved into the air. When he glanced back, Lusha sat in the corner of the wagon, a blanket over her knees, her hands folded together.

He should have turned around and asked things like “Aren’t you cold?” or “Aren’t you hungry?”—yet somehow, right now, even asking those questions felt frightening. Just recalling her tears from earlier sent a dull wave through his chest. That was why he couldn’t bring himself to speak.

Before long, the roofs of the abandoned village rose out of the darkness, and the cracked stone walls reflected the moonlight. He guided the wagon into the open square with no gates or fences and wrapped the reins around the usual stake. Lloyd climbed down from the driver’s seat almost at the same time Lusha quietly stepped down from the cargo bed.

The habit of saying “I’m home” between them had not yet taken root. There were only two sets of footsteps, alternating as they sank into the wooden floor toward the doorway. The inside of the house held the chill of night. As Lloyd gathered the ashes in the hearth to start a fire, Lusha moved into the kitchen and gave a small bow.

“I’ll boil some water. And while I’m at it… I’ll make just a little something.”

“Ah—no. I’ll help.”

The words left his mouth on their own. Even he could tell how forced they sounded.

“No, I think you’re tired, Lloyd. Please rest.”

Though her tone was gentle, it felt as if a thin sheet of distance had been placed between them. In the end, Lloyd backed down. He sat on the long bench in front of the hearth and took off his coat.

A faint smell of dried blood rose. The bruise on his right hand—the 〈Malice Glyph〉 curse mark—no longer pulsed, yet the cold beneath his skin still throbbed somewhere deep inside. From the kitchen came the restrained sound of a knife striking a cutting board. Water softly sang at the rim of a pot, and the scent of torn herbs drifted through the room. The smell of grain… The smell of salt… The faint smell of oil…

Lloyd rubbed his fingertips together, then crushed the words “thank you” before they could form. Eventually, Lusha put on her cloak and left the house. When she returned, her cheeks carried a hint of the night’s chill, and she held an Element Gem in her hand. Had she filled the bath in the bathhouse? The fact that she had prepared that as well, alongside making the meal, made Lloyd feel apologetic.

That’s something I could’ve done too…

No—was it his fault for not saying so himself? He had messed up.

Before long, two bowls were set on the table. Thin soup held grains and root vegetables beneath the surface, with shredded dried meat floating on top. Steam rose white and warm. As always, Lloyd and Lusha sat facing each other. He lifted the bowl and took a sip. The temperature wasn’t too hot, sliding gently down his throat. The saltiness was mild, followed by the bitterness of the herbs. A quiet weight settled deep inside his body.

“It’s good.”

At last, he managed to squeeze the words out. His voice sounded terribly small to his own ears.

“…Thank you. I’m glad it suits your taste.”

After a brief delay, Lusha murmured the reply. She seemed to be smiling faintly. But since her gaze rested on the surface of the soup, he couldn’t tell whether it was a forced smile or a genuinely gentle one. On the table, only the sound of spoons touching and the faint sense of grains sinking overlapped. 

He began to hate himself—the kind of person who couldn’t even say a simple “thank you,” choking on it deep in his throat. He knew the shape of the words, yet didn’t know how to bring them out. No. He lacked the courage to do so. By the time they finished eating, the air in the room held a slight dampness from the steam. Once the cleanup had settled down, Lusha spoke without turning around.

“I’ve prepared the bath. Please go ahead first.”

So she really had finished preparing the bath alongside the meal. Normally, they would exchange light banter—“You should go first, Lusha.” “No, you should, Lloyd.” But tonight, the air wasn’t suited for that. No. More than that, he found himself unable to oppose her.

“…Alright. You should go in soon too.”

“Yes.”

She answered briefly and stood up. Behind him, he heard the small sound of dishes stacking together. The outside air was cold, but the bathhouse was filled with white steam. After rinsing himself, he washed with soap, scrubbing away the smell of blood from his skin. When he finally sank into the tub, his fatigue settled heavily, like a stone dropped into water. The bath felt good. He could feel the exhaustion of the day easing away. But his heart found no such relief.

What should I do? I don’t know anymore.

The same thoughts went in circles, breaking apart the reflected light on the surface of the water. He knew he should apologize. But for what, exactly? For nearly losing control? Or for not relying on her? Could he even tell her why he hadn’t relied on her? Wouldn’t that just sound like an excuse? Should he swallow everything and simply say “I’m sorry”? …No, that would feel too light.

He scooped up hot water and splashed his face. Heat should dull his thoughts, yet tonight it only amplified the noise.

How do people even make up…?

Even when he tried to recall, he had no experience to draw from. Memories of clashing with someone, angering them, then closing the gap… No matter how he searched, no thread of it surfaced. He had never been involved with people that deeply. Of course there wouldn’t be any.

Without reaching a conclusion, his fingertips wrinkled in the water, his arm resting on the edge of the tub growing heavy. Eventually, he gave up and climbed out, the chill brushing his back. After changing into sleepwear and leaving the bathhouse, he saw Lusha just stepping out of the house with a wash basin in her arms.

For a moment, it seemed their eyes might meet, but her gaze slid past Lloyd’s shoulder and fell to the ground.

“Um… I’ll go take my bath too.”

“…Yeah.”

Faced with the awkward air, Lloyd could only nod. Roughly drying his hair with a towel, he returned to the house. The wooden hallway sent a cool sensation up the soles of his feet. The bedroom was arranged as always. One pillow sat slightly lower, marking where she slept. Even after lying down, his eyes traced the seams in the ceiling.

Maybe… It’d be better to apologize tomorrow, after we wake up?

The question-shaped thought rose and sank repeatedly in his chest. His body should have been tired, yet sleep refused to come. On the back of his right hand, only the dull outline of the no-longer-aching bruise remained.

About an hour later, the door made a faint sound and Lusha entered the bedroom. Her hair was neither damp nor fluffy, hanging straight down as usual. Avoiding Lloyd’s gaze, she gently dimmed the light and slipped into her side of the bed. They lay back to back, and the single blanket between them felt unbearably far. The sound of fabric brushing together stood out sharply.

Normally, half-asleep, she would cling to Lloyd from behind, using him like a body pillow. But tonight, there was no such sign. He wanted to say something. The words rose as far as his throat, yet dissolved into the air without taking shape. Silence filled the bedroom. After a while, a shallow breath deepened behind him. The presence of hesitation came through the blanket. Then, a small voice, sounding as if she had made up her mind, touched the darkness.

“Lloyd… Are you still awake?”

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