“Countermeasures…”
Vis thought there wasn’t much difference.
The name of the Lord Marshal of the Western Border of the Saint Covenant Kingdom—Leicester Rekanard Bor—was renowned even within the Empire.
For decades, this man had guarded the border line, six times repelling the Griffin Cavalry of the Ridiculous Sun Empire outside the national gates.
Cunning, composed, and resilient, these traits had long become synonymous with his name.
“Since the Marshal of the Western Border Army of the Kingdom already has a plan, it’s only a matter of time before it’s put into action.”
Vis looked up toward the sky where the stars were just beginning to appear.
Clearing out the Calamity Tide and dealing with that great menace, taking advantage of the opportunity to return to Quiet Sun Town to retrieve equipment and continue with the commissioned tasks—everyone would be happy.
“Hopefully everything goes smoothly.”
“Smoothly, huh…”
Vis was unaware of the emerald green gaze quietly watching him from behind.
In Lordisha’s eyes,
he was still that passionate mercenary gentleman—that hadn’t changed one bit.
(It’s precisely because he treats others as he wishes to be treated, harboring hopes and prayers for a better world, that he always helps others selflessly like this…)
Watching his figure by the poolside, her hand holding the water momentarily paused, and she was briefly transported back to a day not so long ago.
“Anyway, no matter what happens next, I still have to thank you first…”
Vis took a deep breath and spoke frankly.
But feeling that just saying it wasn’t enough, it seemed a little too light and unrealistic, so after thinking it over, he added,
“If you ever need me for anything, just say so—um… does that sound a bit presumptuous? Hahaha…”
After all, don’t look where you shouldn’t, and it’s not polite to look back at the other person—
Though even if he did look, there probably wouldn’t be any discernible expression on that cold, beautiful face.
The empty silence mingled with thick water vapor hanging around them made Vis feel awkward, wondering if he was just making unnecessary conversation.
“…Then,”
after a long pause, the girl’s indifferent voice came from behind.
“Help me wash my hair.”
“Huh?”
Vis’s brain received the command but hadn’t processed it yet—a simple instinctive reaction of confusion.
Thinking he hadn’t heard correctly, Lordisha repeated,
“Right now.”
A few simple words, cold and quiet,
each word struck like a line of code commanding action.
By the time Vis reacted, he was already inexplicably flipping himself around.
Lordisha sat on a wooden stump with her back to him.
Her golden hair was completely unbound, clinging wetly to her pale shoulders and back, waiting for hands to gather and stroke it.
Vis swallowed hard.
“Places where you need me”—of course, that included this kind of thing.
Alright, he had said it out loud after all.
“Well… excuse me.”
Vis carefully grabbed a towel from the pool’s edge, loosely wrapped it around his waist, then climbed out of the pool and moved behind the girl.
Next to the wooden rack stood a coarse clay bowl filled with a semi-solid pale yellow paste mixed with crushed rosemary bits—likely a cleansing product combining soapberries and resin, popular among the nobility.
Vis scooped some into his palm and mixed it evenly with clear water.
He slipped his fingers into Lordisha’s hair.
A slight flicker—whether from his own trembling hands or hers, he couldn’t tell.
Her golden hair was a little heavier than it looked.
After being wetted, it clung to his palm like melted honey, silky and smooth as a stream weaving between his fingers.
Foam began to bubble up from her hair, large and small, round like pearls and shimmering like refracted gems.
From root to tip, Vis skillfully massaged the golden strands that looked like a woven masterpiece.
More professional than the village hair salons.
After all, he did have some experience.
He had washed someone’s hair like this before…
Though the conditions weren’t nearly as good.
He vaguely recalled that person’s short hair, barely past her earlobes, matted and dirty, all clumped together.
They had struggled to find a nearby creek with a nearly dried-up trickle, washing and rinsing for half a day before she looked fresh and clean.
(But after washing, she looked pretty good… If he remembered right, that girl’s hair was silver or white?
He teased her a bit at the time, and though she didn’t complain openly, she sulked quietly all night and only opened up the next day after he brought her some good food…)
Remembering these moments, a knowing smile unconsciously formed on Vis’s lips.
The memories felt like they were from just yesterday.
Old thoughts swirled as his hands continued the careful, gentle motions of washing, so focused that even when he looked at her delicate, water-glimmering pale skin, it was as if he forgot everything else—no stray thoughts disturbed him.
Once again, they fell into silence, this time so complete it seemed even the outside noise of playful shouting belonged to another world.
The rising steam laid a warm mist over the quiet atmosphere, the dim light blurring the boundaries between them.
After countless droplets fell, ending with a steady flow of water, Vis rinsed all the foam from Lordisha’s golden hair.
“All done.”
He reached for a dry towel from the rack.
“Do you want me to tie it up?”
“Just dry it.”
Lordisha’s tone was flat, as if she was used to it.
Wrapping her long hair in the towel, Vis finally dared to study her profile carefully.
Not rough like an ordinary soldier’s, the steam condensed on her flawless skin in tiny droplets that slid down her jawline, falling into the hollow at her collarbone.
Her eyelashes were long; wet, they looked like two small fans casting faint shadows under her eyelids.
For a moment, a strange familiarity welled up inside him.
But reason quickly scoffed.
—Yeah, how could that be?
Even if it’s the same act of helping wash hair, she was the Golden Lordisha, the strongest captain of the Saint Covenant Kingdom—it was impossible to compare…
Laughing at himself for feeling dizzy from the steam, Vis suddenly noticed her eyes were slightly red—seemingly from the prolonged moisture in the air.
“Your turn now.”
Lordisha suddenly said.
“Huh?”
Vis emitted the instinctive sound of confusion again.
But Lordisha answered with action, rising from the wooden stump without hesitation, as if there were no boundaries between them.
(They just met, yet this captain doesn’t treat a comrade like a stranger at all—should he call that boldness or honesty? Or just the no-nonsense nature of soldiers?)
Following basic etiquette, Vis quickly turned his gaze away and awkwardly tried to refuse.
“Ti-Tisha! I—I just washed my hair—”
“Then, scrub my back. Return the favor.”
Lordisha, imitating what she had learned from someone else, said as she moved behind him.
She pressed down on his shoulders, forcing him onto the stool, and without further ado, took a washcloth coated with bathing ointment and began scrubbing up a lather.