The Saint Wants to Rest - Chapter 66.2
That is not it. Ian thought that as he turned around. Vermouth was also dressed not in his usual combat gear, but in the pure white Holy Knight ceremonial robes he had worn in Lancia. His handsome features, revealed by his neatly swept-back blonde hair, evoked the image of a sacred painting just by him standing there.
Vermouth approached Ian’s side and knelt on one knee. With very careful and reverent movements, he began to fasten the silver decorative buttons on the hem of Ian’s coat one by one.
Only the small clicking sounds of the buttons being fastened echoed in the waiting room. It was when Vermouth’s large hand passed Ian’s waist and reached near his chest.
The fingertips of the knight, who was always bold and unwavering, were trembling very minutely.
“Vermouth?”
Ian looked down at him, tilting his head in curiosity. Vermouth remained with his head bowed, his hand resting near Ian’s chest.
“……I was afraid.”
The words were far too alien to have come from the mouth of a knight who was always proud to the point of arrogance.
“When I held you after you collapsed at the S-grade Gate, and when the doctor in the hospital room said your circuits were completely empty.”
Vermouth slowly raised his head. Within his blue eyes, which always shone coldly, a whirlwind of deep terror of loss and intense attachment was swirling.
“I cursed my own arrogance and sloth for failing to confine you perfectly within that Golden Field in Lancia. If I had broken your wings and locked you by my side back then, even if it meant enduring the world’s condemnation, you would not have had to vomit blood and collapse in this strange world.”
It was less a manifestation of repentance than a display of horrific obsession. It was not a sense of debt toward Ian’s devotion, which had been torn apart while saving the people of Lancia. To Vermouth, the salvation of the world was a secondary issue. It was a raw, primal terror that the single being known as ‘Choi Ian’ might vanish from his world forever.
“Yet, even after coming to this world, when my sword could not fully protect you and I had to watch your eyes close once again… I felt the very reason for my existence being uprooted.”
His voice was not wet with tears, but it was heavier and more desperate than any wailing. It was the frantic emotion of a man who had faced loss and feared losing the only being to whom he had given his everything.
Ian quietly met Vermouth’s eyes.
Because of that terrible possessiveness, Ian had even fled from him in Lancia, but right now, that blind attachment felt strangely reliable. This man had never once withdrawn his sincerity toward Ian, from Lancia all the way to Earth.
Ian reached out quietly and placed his hand over Vermouth’s large hand resting on his chest.
“It’s not going out.”
“Lord Ian.”
“My light, it won’t go out anymore. More than anything, I’m actually having a bit of fun right now. I’m heading out to build the foundation for the ‘honey-sucking’ retirement life of my future.”
Ian gripped Vermouth’s hand tightly and smiled playfully, yet more sincerely and warmly than ever before.
“Your sword has never once been useless, Vermouth. Not in Lancia, and not here now. Just having you standing firmly by my side allows me to breathe.”
The warmth of gentle and mild divine power seeped into Vermouth’s fingertips through Ian’s palm. It was not a power of healing, but a pulse of pure comfort and solidarity.
“So, keep protecting me in the future. Until I establish the Order across the whole world and perfectly retire. Do not move even a single step away from my side.”
“……!”
Vermouth’s blue eyes shook violently. The gaze Ian used to look at him held no dignity of a representative of a God. It was simply a warm promise, fully acknowledging him as his partner and companion.
Without any coercion, Ian had offered an indefinite promise to stay by Vermouth’s side.
Vermouth wrapped his hands around Ian’s and kissed the back of his hand deeply. It was a kiss of a reverent vow, and a precarious kiss meant to suppress emotions that were surging uncontrollably.
“Until the day my soul is extinguished. I shall be your most perfect shield and your most devoted companion. Ian.”
It was a call by name alone, devoid of any honorifics. Ian laughed pleasantly at that heavy calling and patted Vermouth’s shoulder.
“Alright. Then shall we go out to perform a miracle?”
“I would like that.”
With that, the two of them stepped out of the tent.
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