The Terminally Ill Hero’s Husband is the Demon King - Chapter 2.6
As Gillian stared at him in a daze, the hunter grinned.
“People often look at me with the same expression you’re making right now. It’s so funny every time.”
“Ah, forgive my rudeness.”
“It’s fine, so look as much as you like. I’m used to it. My mother said she couldn’t think of anything but the name Rassel when she first saw me. I don’t know for sure, but if I went to the capital, even Iris would come running out and say, ‘Good gracious, Your Majesty, the founding king,’ and pay her respects.”
Gillian nodded. Even if he estimated modestly, Rassel had to be over thirty, but his clean-shaven face was full of youth and vitality. If nothing else, Iris would certainly take quite a liking to Rassel.
Since Iris never refused anything enjoyable, she would cherish Rassel, who resembled the founding king, with utmost devotion. The Ingmar bloodline was scarce in descendants, so Iris had few living elder relatives. She might say this, too, was fate and try to make him family, or go further and order him to live in the royal palace, saying she would give him work.
Then again, even if Rassel did not resemble the founding king, with a physique like that, Iris would ask whether he had any thought of taking up the sword. She would say that since it was too late for him to attend school, she would assign him a teacher instead.
Gillian thought Iris might name him as Rassel’s teacher. She would use that as an excuse to keep Rassel close, while also tying Gillian down.
Gillian had looked at Rassel enough. He pointed with his chin at Rassel’s bathtub, meaning he should get in. Rassel dipped his foot into the bathtub, then soon lowered his entire lower body inside. The water, which had filled about half the tub, rose until it lapped beneath Rassel’s chest.
“If you want to go to the capital, I’ll take you there.”
“The capital? That wouldn’t be bad. If you take me there, I’d feel reassured. This body of mine, you see, lived in the capital a very long time ago.”
“You’re from the capital? Where did you live?”
“I’m not from Yuers. Though I do have citizenship.”
“It seems your circumstances are rather complicated.”
“It was so long ago I don’t remember much. I’ll tell you about that when it comes to mind, and for now, I’m thirsty, so give me that.”
Gillian held out the cup in his hand to Rassel. He had no intention of drinking something a stranger had given him. But Rassel smiled brightly and lifted his cup, saying they should toast. Gillian, caught off guard, clinked cups with him, then gulped it down.
It seemed to be ginger preserved in honey and mixed with water, and Gillian liked the sweet, bitter taste very much. He watched Rassel drink the honey water until Rassel emptied his cup, leaving only one or two sips behind.
The way he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as if he were downing beer refreshingly, along with his manner of speaking, overflowed with boldness and spirit. A hero ought to be at least that much.
With a person like this in the world, it wasn’t strange that people felt Gillian was ordinary. Gillian thought it was a waste for Rassel to be merely a hunter.
Though Gillian himself was an unparalleled hero, he felt boundless admiration for Rassel. It was rare for him to take a liking to someone so easily. Gillian often became curious about people, but he was stingy when it came to giving affection.
But looking at Rassel’s face, it did not seem like such a strange thing. There had been good reason for Rassel to hide his name and cover his face. After all, once they saw that face, men and women, young and old alike, would fall head over heels as if an incarnation of the founding king had appeared, then chase after him.
Gillian temporarily forgot the Demon King and wanted to follow Rassel around and hunt. As he scooped water with a small dipper and poured it over himself to wash, Gillian rested his head against the edge of the bathtub and soaked his body deeply in the water.
Rassel finished the rest of his drink, then soaked himself as Gillian had. Rassel let out a satisfied groan.
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