HPV 90

I spotted a bench made by joining together several round-cut slabs of wood.

I went over and sat down. Banwes came and sat beside me.

In the wide-open sky above, the still-blue ocean and the reddish sunset trying to take its place were locked in a slow battle.

‘…What are we now?’

We weren’t travel companions anymore. The journey was over. Now that everything was resolved, there was no reason left to stay.

Before, we had tolerated discomfort because we were comrades.

I held on so I wouldn’t fall behind.

We shared body heat because the North was freezing. He carried me when my strength ran out, so I wouldn’t be left behind.

We shared daily life.

We held hands.

We embraced, and he carried me.

And now, even the demon was gone. No more need to kiss, no more need to press our bodies together.

With so many reasons disappearing at once, only silence remained between us.

I stole glances at him. His muscular calves and thighs, the cords of muscle visible even through the fabric of his pants.

Following the line of his gaze, I saw his hand, his wrist, casually resting on his leg, bathed in the warm, reddish light of the sun.

…I couldn’t summon the courage. Truthfully, I didn’t even know how to summon it.

What was it that I wanted to do? What was I even supposed to do? Even if I said something to Banwes here, whether he would accept it was one thing—but I had no right to say anything in the first place.

‘Hancanera…’

As long as the one who imprisoned me still roamed free within the Rohin Order, my very existence was a burden to him.

Banwes had endured years of persecution and contempt, and finally gained honor by slaying the Black Dragon with the very orc’s blood that had made him an outcast.

But not me. I hadn’t solved anything. I shoved the tangled mess of thoughts aside and searched for a topic to talk about as I stared up at the sky.

“Remember I once said I had about 120 professions I wanted to try someday?”

Over our months of traveling, I’d attempted 18 professions during brief stays in different villages, and given up on 5 of them after realizing I lacked the talent. (Like singing—turns out I was tone-deaf.)

I wondered if Banwes remembered.

“…Husband.”

I had once declared it proudly, right in the middle of a loud, boisterous drinking party.

Said I wanted to try being a husband someday. Being a husband wasn’t something you could do alone.

You needed someone to share it with. Someone to stand by your side.

My face burned hot.

I blurted something, anything, in an attempt to hide my embarrassment.

“I-it’s not something you have to do right away, you know. Life is long, so there’s still plenty of time…”

My flustered, rambling words sounded ridiculous even to me. And Banwes?

He showed absolutely no reaction, making the silence twice as unbearable. His gaze was steady but made my skin itch with nerves.

I wished I could open up his head and read his thoughts. Honestly, even if I found it completely empty inside, I wouldn’t be surprised.

But somehow, I knew it couldn’t be completely empty.

“Did the mark on your skin disappear?”

It was a late question, one he should have asked long ago.

But with the coldness between us, he had kept silent.

I closed my mouth once before answering.

“…I didn’t check. It’s in a place I can’t see.”

My chest tightened like I was telling a huge lie. I kept my gaze locked on the ground, too afraid to meet his eyes.

Truthfully, with a hand mirror, I could have checked. But I had pretended ignorance, hiding the truth.

The air between us turned unstable, like a hidden current had been struck.

“…Then I’ll check for you.”

His voice cracked slightly at the end. Though it was an open-air hill with the clear sky overhead, it was a secluded spot, and the trees around us shielded us from sight.

I awkwardly got to my feet. Banwes stayed seated, simply watching me.

‘…He’s not trying to undress me this time.’

He had, back then. Not that I was disappointed. Slowly, I untied my pants and pushed them down.

I wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or mortified that he wasn’t looking directly at my thighs, his face flushed red.

“Should I… turn around?” I asked.

“No….Raise your leg,” he said.

Balancing on one foot wasn’t easy. I awkwardly lifted and lowered my ankle a few times.

Banwes pointed to the bench I had been sitting on. I set my foot down and sat back down.

Banwes knelt before me, directly between my legs. If I spread them even a little, he would be trapped between them. He lightly bit his lip, just once.

The area around his eyes seemed a little warmer, but with his darker skin tone, it was hard to tell.

His hand grasped my right ankle and lifted it—higher, and higher still, until my leg was pointed toward the sky.

My body naturally tilted back to keep balance. Without a word, his other hand pressed against my back, steadying me.

Only a single layer of underwear now covered my crotch and buttocks against the wooden bench.

“Is it gone?”

“…Yeah. You’re free now.”

I clenched my teeth and swallowed. As he stared at me, my front stirred slightly under the thin fabric.

The fact that I could get aroused from something like this was ridiculous. Maybe it was because the posture reminded me of that night.

If Banwes hadn’t been here, this wouldn’t have happened. But Banwes said nothing.

He just exhaled a long breath through his nose, then gently set my leg down and moved away.

I didn’t want him to look at me—definitely didn’t want it—but if he was deliberately pretending not to see anything, that stung in its own way.

‘…That night and the second night after were only to save me. Banwes’s arousal was just physical instinct, nothing more.’

At the time, I was too busy trying to pull myself together to realize anything else—too busy thinking only about my own side of it.

The man hadn’t even considered the idea of suppressing or hiding himself.

We just sat there awkwardly, letting time pass. In the end, the line between us remained uncrossed.

The evening glow dyed the sky. I stood up first from the tree stump, which had warmed after sitting for so long.

Most of the shops had closed. Still, the streets were lively with people buying late dinners and children who hadn’t gone home yet.

While looking around, I spotted a small street stall and grew interested. A person sat alone under a colorful cloth. On the stall were a few white stones and a board covered in intricate patterns.

“I wanted to try being a fortune-teller, too.”

First, I needed to see how a real fortune-teller worked, as a customer. I stepped boldly onto the blue cloth laid out in front.

Banwes stood beside me, arms crossed, glaring not at me but at the fortune-teller.

I had some travel money that Penzey had given me to buy what I wanted. As I was about to pull out some coins and hand them over, the old man hastily swept the white stones off the board.

“I have nothing to say to you. I won’t take your money.”

For a moment, the gaze under his cloth seemed to quickly scan Banwes’ large frame. Fear—and the disgust hidden behind it—flickered in his eyes.

It was clear he’d realized Banwes was not an ordinary being. But this time, I clenched my fists with a new emotion.

It was anger.

“Apologize. What wrong has he done to you? Isn’t it rude to treat a stranger like this?”

Banwes stood silently at a distance, completely indifferent to whatever the fortune-teller said. He must have heard everything.

I had no intention of leaving until the fortune-teller apologized. But the fortune-teller simply stared at me, expressionless.

“You,” he said.

The words he spoke fell one by one, as if stamping on grass with deliberate steps.

“You will lose everything and destroy yourself. And you will drag those around you down with you.”

Banwes strode over, grabbed the fortune-teller by the collar, and effortlessly lifted him into the air.

At that moment, I made a firm decision: Becoming a fortune-teller would definitely not be one of my future professions.

The realization became even more vivid as I clung desperately to Banwes’ arm to stop him from committing murder.

Still uneasy, I later poured everything that had happened outside to Yurichen. Being a High Priest, I thought he might say something comforting.

“Fortune-telling has never been proven. They neither serve the gods nor follow the spirits. It’s not magic, and it’s not alchemy either. Most likely, they’re just very skilled at observing people.”

“Then… does that mean there really is something ominous they saw in me?”

Yurichen probably hadn’t meant it that way, but the uneasy feeling refused to leave me.