Chapter 150: Another night to awake

Thank you [UpUpDowndown] For your gift - A Magic Castle

(Bonus Chapter: 3)

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No one answered immediately. Sunlight fell through the window onto Silver Moon’s white rooftops, peaceful enough to seem unaware that a woman was biting her lip to keep herself from crying.

Mirielle slid a handkerchief toward her. "There is nothing shameful about surviving those years. But don’t turn that endurance into a standard you force everyone else to follow."

Dahlia looked down at the handkerchief. After a long while, she finally picked it up. She did not apologize, nor did she suddenly change her mind. Only her shoulders, which had been held tightly tense, slowly relaxed.

"I don’t know whether Erik is truly like he is on the screen in real life," she said very quietly.

"I don’t know everything either," Mirielle replied. "But if he is clumsy, says the wrong thing, or even trembles when he sees a monster, I would not find anything to criticize. He is a man, not a stone statue. He can be afraid and still stay. That only makes me cherish him more."

Lysandra looked at Mirielle with suspicion. "Madam, do you intend to find even one flaw in Erik?"

"What for?" Mirielle raised an eyebrow. "If he is clumsy, I will find him adorable. If he is a little arrogant, I will say he has presence. If he only wants to stay home and cook, I am willing to buy him an entire kitchen. Do not expect me to be objective about this."

The housekeeper snorted with laughter. "At least Madam knows she is not objective."

Just then, the comments beneath the dark screen suddenly began scrolling faster. Because the program only allowed female viewers with verified, paid accounts to participate, every comment had an account owner behind it. Yet that did nothing to stop the arguments.

[What is that black mist? Has anyone been able to contact the outpost?]

[I told you already, a Black Iron Rank 10 going to the battlefield only makes the guards lose focus!]

[Erik got welcomed with a red carpet. Of course he has to hold a spear and put on a little show to protect his reputation.]

[Exactly! A man with self-respect would not perform like that in front of a camera. It looks so cheap.]

[With Meira at his side, anyone would dare to say they want to fight. He is only good at hiding behind a woman’s skirt!]

[The gentler he acts, the more money you throw at the channel. Can’t you see that you are being exploited?]

[A man who cooks for himself, asks an injured Succubus if she is hurt, then volunteers to hold the defensive line, what kind of man is that supposed to be? Stop encouraging behavior that degrades male dignity!]

[Was he forced to stay? I only hope Erik returns safely. (╥﹏╥)]

[I personally saw Erik rush in to save Meira. Stop sitting at home making up stories about someone who went to the battlefield!]

[So what if he nearly saved one person? Black Iron is still Black Iron. Stop treating him like a god.]

[Who knows, maybe the organizers are about to sell another special broadcast package: "Hero Trapped in the Mist," for triple the price!]

[You pay to watch a man spoil women, then assume everyone is like that in real life? Wake up.]

[He is only making other Succubi start demanding that their husbands serve them instead. A man who ruins the order like this does not deserve praise.]

[Asking someone if she is in pain ruins the order now? Is your order really that fragile?]

[Sir Erik has never forced anyone to live like him. You are the ones forcing him to be like other men!]

[I want to see him return safely. Can you all stop arguing? (?_?)]

Mirielle, who had been holding her teacup, suddenly set it down hard on the table. The sound of porcelain hitting wood startled Lysandra, and the housekeeper immediately looked up. The eyes of the beautiful woman, which had been gentle as she admired Erik’s picture, now nearly burned with fury.

"They dared to call Erik cheap?" Mirielle stared at the comments, her voice turning cold. "Someone nearly lost his life saving another person, and those sitting in warm rooms still mock him. How very impressive of them!"

"And that line about him hiding behind Meira too!" Lysandra was furious enough to flush red. She shoved her pillow aside and quickly captured the comments. "Do they know he once rushed out to save Meira?"

The elderly housekeeper narrowed her eyes as well. "Who said Erik makes female soldiers protect him? Protecting comrades is a soldier’s duty. Has a man daring to stay become a crime now?"

"Record all of it!" Mirielle pulled over the communication device and called the secretary standing watch outside.

Her voice was so calm that it became all the more frightening. "Investigate the accounts spreading fabrications about Erik, especially the group claiming that he staged everything at the outpost. Contact the program management and demand they preserve the comments and verify the source of the rumors. If an organization is deliberately slandering him from behind the scenes, I want to know immediately."

Lysandra looked at her, her eyes shining. "Madam, are you really going to investigate?"

"Of course. If I have to pay to watch Erik and still listen to people slander him, then what am I paying for?" Mirielle crossed her arms, her eyes as sharp as blades freshly drawn from their sheathes. "I may not stop anyone from saying he is not their type, but anyone deliberately making things up will receive a visit from the merchant association’s lawyers."

Dahlia remained seated in silence. She looked at the insults on the screen, then at the three women enraged over a man who had never met them. For a moment, she found it strange.

Before, whenever someone defended a man, they usually demanded that Succubi remain silent and endure. This time, the words defending Erik began with the refusal to treat women’s sacrifices as something natural.

Mirielle had not finished yet. She pointed at the picture of Erik holding his spear, her hand suddenly softening as though she had turned into a completely different person. "And this picture, have it printed beautifully for me. Contact Laviana and ask for the photos Erik has agreed to release publicly. I want front views, side profiles, and even the moments where he frowns because he is worried about Elowen. If there are pictures of him walking away with his back turned, get those too."

"Even pictures from behind?" Lysandra’s eyes widened again.

"Of course. Is a back willing to stand before danger and protect someone else not worth admiring?" Mirielle replied, then suddenly sighed in regret. "If only I could see him from every angle at the same time..."

The housekeeper pressed her lips together to hide a laugh. "Madam, are you planning to hold an exhibition?"

"That’s a good idea!" Mirielle immediately turned toward her. "But an exhibition would need Erik’s permission first. I do not want to inconvenience him. If he only agrees to let me print one picture for private viewing, then I will choose the most beautiful one."

Lysandra held her forehead, both amused and helpless. Mirielle had already turned back to the screen, studying Erik’s figure in the picture so intently that she did not notice the gazes of those around her at all. After a moment, she spoke more quietly, unclear who she was speaking to.

"You have treated those Succubi well already. Now just return safely, alright?"

No one teased her anymore. Even Dahlia quietly set her damp handkerchief aside, looking at the black screen and hoping that the man in the picture would return.

"Keep the channel open," Mirielle instructed the secretary once more. "Report to me the moment there is a signal. I do not want to miss even a second."

After leaving the tea room, Mirielle did not return to her office as usual. She walked straight down the carpeted hallway, closed the door to her private room, and removed her heavy earrings onto the dressing table.

All afternoon, she had maintained the bearing of the mistress of a merchant association: back straight, words sharp, eyes that prevented her subordinates from letting their guard down. Only when she was alone did her shoulders finally relax.

She sat on the edge of the bed, then leaned back against the soft mattress. Her silk dress clung to her voluptuous body, highlighting her soft curves beneath the warm yellow light.

Her red-brown hair spread over the pillow like a stream of dark honey, and a long breath escaped her red-painted lips, making the entire room feel quieter.

"This is so ridiculous..." Mirielle murmured, though the corners of her lips curved upward. "A woman my age, still sitting here daydreaming over a man’s picture."

She took out a close-up portrait she had just received from the official promotional image archive. Compared to the shaking frame from the outpost, this picture was so clear that Mirielle could see Erik’s eyelashes, straight nose, slightly lifted lips, and the light reflected in his eyes.

He was looking away from the camera as if he had just heard someone call him, his expression so natural that she felt he would turn around if she only spoke.

"Erik..."

His name slipped from her lips softer than a breath. Mirielle brought the picture closer, her fingertips stroking the edge of the paper before stopping along the line of his broad shoulder.

She remembered those hands making breakfast, holding injured women, and gripping a spear in the face of danger. Just imagining herself standing near him and feeling the warmth of arms willingly wrapping around her made her cheeks burn.

People often gifted her precious jewels and dresses, as if every desire a wealthy woman had could be bought with gold. Yet no gift had ever made her heart race like Erik’s unguarded smile.

She wanted to know how his voice would soften when he called her name, wanted to see that face closer, wanted him to look at her as an ordinary woman rather than a walking bag of money.

"You really know how to keep people awake," Mirielle scolded the picture, then laughed at herself. She pulled a pillow into her arms and buried her face in the soft fabric for a moment like a young girl experiencing her first crush.

When she lifted her head again, her eyes were still shining, and she carefully placed the picture on the pillow beside her.

A mischievous thought suddenly appeared. Mirielle reached for her communication device, intending to tell her secretary to order more pictures of Erik from behind, while smiling, while tilting his head, even ones with sunlight falling across his eyelashes.

But after typing only a few words, she deleted them. Her people were still busy verifying news from the outpost. She could wait for beautiful pictures. What she could not bear was the thought that Erik might never return to have another picture taken again.

"Erik..." She placed a hand over her chest and smiled weakly. "I still want to look at you longer than this. So you absolutely have to survive."

Mirielle dimmed the lights, pulled the blanket up to her waist, and lay on her side with the picture before her. In the warm room, she still blushed every time she caught those eyes, while her other hand slipped beneath the covers, gently touching a sensitive spot.

Tonight, she would likely stay awake very late again.