Chapter 141

“Is there anything you need before sleeping?”

“No, my Lord. However, if I may inquire, are you planning to sleep in that attire?”

Liv’s face was adorned with questions. Demus’ attire must have looked so uncomfortable for someone who was going to sleep.

Demus glanced down at his clothes. Indeed, his current attire was slightly distinct from what he wore when sleeping alone. His shirt was fastened up to the neck, and his cotton pants were clearly intended for loungewear, yet some parts felt a bit constricting for use as pajamas.

“Is there a problem?”

“You don’t have to force yourself if you’re reluctant to sleep in one bed, my Lord.”

“I never have to force myself to do anything.”

He was well aware of his capabilities. Therefore, he handled everything to be within his grasp, no matter what he did.

This woman in front of him was the proof. This woman, who walked in here on her own accord, had consistently stayed within the bounds of his predictions.

Liv closed her mouth at Demus’ words. She cast a glance down at her pajamas, loose and baggy compared to Demus’, and discreetly averted her gaze from him.

“You look uncomfortable.”

She sounded like she was whining, making him wonder if something was wrong with the way he heard it.

“I heard that dressing light is… good for sleeping.”

“Teacher.”

Liv, who had been fidgeting, snapped up her head. Demus stared hard at her, then spoke in a nonchalant tone.

“Do you want to undress me?”

Wouldn’t she shake her head with a flushed face, or perhaps appear startled while gesturing “no” with her hands?

Liv appeared perfectly composed, almost as if she were laughing at Demus for thinking that way. She even let out a small gasp as if she had realized something. Blinking her eyes, she fiddled with the quilt and then slowly moved her lips.

“Isn’t it okay to be comfortable in front of me?”

After saying that, Liv hesitated as if reading into his response. But soon she acted indifferent, tuning her voice, and added.

“I’m the only one who has been in your bed, my Lord.”

Suddenly, he recollected the moment when she had undressed, awkwardly trying to seduce him. The current atmosphere seemed reminiscent of that time.

Liv was likely entirely oblivious to the implications behind him bringing her to Lanxess Manor, revealing the basement, and even allowing her to spend the night. She probably didn’t realize that these actions served as undeniable evidence of the significant amount of attention he had bestowed upon her.

She must have been asking for more attention because she didn’t know about it.

Demus knew that if he showed any sign of reluctance, she would immediately take back her words. If he had been in a bad mood at this moment, he would have laughed at Liv without a second thought, but for better or worse, at this moment, his curiosity triumphed over his irritation.

“If so, will you be my attendant, Teacher?”

She was the woman who called the scar between his fingers a medal of victory.

“Me?”

“Yes. Considering how eager you seem to be to undress me, I’m offering you the opportunity.”

Demus was curious if she would still claim it once she got to see his body.

A medal? Medal; what an irresponsible and cute expression it was.

“What do you think?”

“I will do it.”

Seeing Liv nod so innocently, Demus let out a somewhat irritated laugh. Liv appeared not to notice Demus’ sharp demeanor as she approached him, defenselessly extending her hands.

The first button, which was tight around his neck, was undone by Liv’s hand.

Demus looked down at Liv’s face as she stood close to him and carefully unbuttoned his shirt.

He pondered how long it had been since someone last assisted him in dressing. The sight of his shirt, which he usually took off and tossed around roughly, being removed by another’s hands was fascinating and novel.

He was a man well-versed in self-reliance, whether during his military academy years or on the battlefield. Especially in his personal life. This aspect had no connection to the emotional reluctance of baring his scarred body.

He might be fine now, but when he was on the battlefield, the threat of death was always on his mind. Those were days when even the most trivial assistance had to be doubted and validated.

While Demus was reminiscing of his past, his shirt had been unbuttoned more than halfway, gradually exposing his bare flesh beneath.  It was precisely at that moment that the hands, which had been unbuttoning at a steady pace, began to slow down.

“Disgusting, isn’t it?”

What he had spoken was a question, yet the tone he employed carried a confidence that she would interpret it as such. For truthfully, Demus himself considered his body to be objectively disgusting.

“It looks like insects crawling around.”

In fact, he often felt it that way. The sealed scars would occasionally itch, and there was an illusion of their size increasing. Additionally, the sensation of imaginary maggots crawling over him would occasionally persist throughout the night.

Despite tightly wrapping his body to avoid seeing it, his efforts were in vain. His memory was haunted by images of shattered, torn, and mangled limbs. This recollection was unrelenting, resurfacing from time to time. Accompanying it were the acrid stench and the scent of blood, along with the piercing cries.

He didn’t want to recognize that they, who looked more like lumps of meat, were once people.

In that sense, nude artworks were so peaceful and beautiful. Perfect and pristine, lasting forever.

Demus gazed at Liv. He couldn’t observe her expression because she was looking down.

“Tell me, Teacher. Do you still see scars as medals of victory?”