Warriors will die if they charge.

The soundproofing in the Pig Lung Tavern was terrible; the rickety ceiling and boards swayed violently with Duncan's suppressed roars.

Wisps of dust fell from the cracks in the ceiling onto Kelly's burgundy short hair, and she could clearly hear his beast-like panting.

"Nia, Nia!"

Nia. Her parents must have listened to the pastor's nonsense when they named her that. In Green Village, Nia would conjure up images of lush green meadows, sheep roaming the hills, and Nia chasing the flock with a stick.

They would never have imagined that the freckled shepherdess, relying on black bread, oatmeal, and a little goat's milk, could grow into a slender, busty, and smooth-skinned beauty, her wine-red hue floating on the mountains bathed in the afterglow of the setting sun, like a red pine flower blown by the wind.

Fortunately, no one calls her Nia anymore, except for that lecherous Duncan.

Kelly, lying flat on the bed, rolled over and yelled at Duncan, who was working in the next room, "Keep your voice down! It's one thing to yell all the time, but you're yelling even when you're sleeping back in town!"

The noise from the ceiling lessened considerably, but the conversation could still be heard clearly.

"Who is that woman? The woman you're calling for is right next door, yet you're looking for someone more attractive? How interesting."

"Don't cause trouble, I've already paid you, you bitch!"

How long had she known Duncan? Kelly couldn't quite remember. Ever since she left Glenn Village at the age of sixteen and wandered from place to place making a living, she had forgotten how far she had gone with the fingerless thief Duncan.

Kelly pulled back the covers, stepped barefoot onto the floor, opened the window, and looked out at the night sky over Linhe Town.

The rain was black, falling in waves from the sky.

At the edge of the lamplight, a woman hiding under a doorway on the street holds her child and hums a lullaby softly, making the scattered wine bottles on the ground appear colorful in the casino lights.

Kelly heard the sound of tears falling along with the rain, a steady and subtle sound. The woman's tears slid down one by one, echoing a wonderful melody on the ground covered with mud and bits of grass.

drop drop~

She looked up and, through the rain-drenched, misty town, saw the ticking of the church tower clock—

She was measuring time with her tears.

Kelly thought to herself, what a romantic way of observing things, more suited to the mouth of a bard at Conrad Manor than a woman who wanders the country.

She still remembered her first meeting with Duncan. She was nineteen years old then, having just left the old adventurer who had died, and inherited a sturdy longsword from him on her way to the city of Tarrenco.

The old man said this was his hometown, and he wanted to bury his ashes under the ginkgo tree there.

Yes, she met Duncan, the little devil who had his right ring finger chopped off for stealing, under the ginkgo tree. His father was a gambler who made his twin brother and sister support him. The sister became a prostitute and endured for many years, raising her brother with her hidden savings, and then drowned herself in the river.

Her younger brother learned some stealth and lock-picking skills and made a living by stealing in the city. She remembered that Duncan's bruises and scars all came from his gambling father. The knights of the Law Church were very steady in their hands; when chopping off a ring finger, they would never touch the little finger.

Duncan's reason for wandering was that he couldn't stand his family of origin, so what about me? Should I blame the parents who raised me?

Years later, Kelly finally remembered this question—her parents loved her very much and found her a good marriage, to Thoreau, the eldest son of the Knights of Conrad.

The story of a shepherdess marrying a knight's heir is a tale that would be celebrated by poets even in a royal palace. How fortunate it is for a dirty ugly duckling to fall in love with a handsome and dashing knight.

Kelly suddenly laughed. She remembered Solo's round, chubby face and how he clumsily offered her malt candy and fresh goat milk when they first met.

He was adorable. Every day at ten o'clock, he would get dressed with the help of his servants and sing hymns with his tutor, stumbling along. During this time, his personal maid would constantly check the young master's clothes to prevent his excrement from polluting the sacred little chapel.

Solo is a fat boy with congenital intellectual disability. To be honest, Kelly doesn't mind that. Marrying a nobleman with a mental disability is common everywhere.

She could treat him as her husband, bear two lovely heirs, wipe her filthy trouser pockets clean, sit in the spacious living room of the manor, enjoy the warmth of the fireplace, occasionally discipline disobedient servants, and calculate every day how many sheep to buy and sell to keep the manor running.

Kelly put on a loose burqa, hooked her boots on, and went downstairs. She saw Marcus and Bardin, who were drinking and playing cards even though they were going on a mission the next day. She also asked Nora, the tavern owner, for a drink.

"Something on your mind?" Nora handed over a full glass of ale.

"Maybe, I just can't sleep."

The pale yellow light of the magic stone on the ceiling flickered, and the air was filled with the smell of wine and stew, just like before, Kelly thought to herself, as she found a corner to sit down.

She sat on a chair outside the manor, the cool wind blowing her long red hair, which was coiled at the back of her head, aside. She hurriedly bent down to tidy it up, making sure that her demeanor would be impeccable when she checked into the Knights Conrad's house that night.

A harsh, unpleasant woman's voice reached her ears through the manor gates: "It's been so long since we've had such a good thing, Lord Conrad. Nia is a rare beauty in the village."

She was led by her elderly aunt to the knight's bedroom, an exquisite place decorated with velvet, sandalwood furniture, and silk. Conrad, with his husky yet magnetic voice full of middle-aged charm, sat sideways on the bed beside her:

"Do you like drinking? You must really like it. How about some honey wine? Come on, let's have a drink."

Kelly and the lord drank from the same cup; she listened, trembling with fear, to his seductive words:

"You don't like to talk, do you? Don't treat me like a lord. After I die, you can move into this beautiful house with my son Solo and my grandson."

In the pub, Kelly tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and pulled her loose collar tighter. She remembered Conrad rubbing his ear with his lips and beard, reciting the family motto indistinctly: "We are bound by blood, and our bond will never break."

Her face was flushed as she lay on the velvet bed, the smooth texture of the fabric still lingering on her back. In that moment, she transformed into a red pine flower overflowing with ambiguity and blood ties.

"But unfortunately, he was a coward..." Kelly took a big gulp of wine, recalling the scene of escaping the mead land.

Amid Kelly's bewilderment, he became brutal and savage, whipping her delicate, smooth skin, which had been specially soaked in rose milk, with a horsewhip.

Finally, before she lost consciousness, Kelly saw Conrad muttering to himself, raising his rough hand: "This is something every man does..."

On the fifth day, the knight's manor caught fire, and the bedroom that once smelled of honey and virginity became Conrad's tomb.

Nia from Glenn Village died, and amidst the raging fires of the manor, a stray dog ​​named Kelly emerged.

Kelly finished her drink, walked to the long table in front of the bar, put her arm around Marcus's shoulder, her eyes carrying a hint of drunken allure, pulled open the collar of her robe to reveal her firm upper chest, and her hair gently brushed against the man's face covered with a fine layer of sweat.

The sweltering tavern allowed her alluring fragrance to waft freely. She saw Marcus sniff, then deftly turn away, leaving behind a graceful silhouette.

"You'd better be ready tomorrow, Marcus. Your sister loves all those sparkly little cuties, just like you."

Kelly, whose expression was particularly strange compared to the evening, went up to the second-floor guest room. Marcus threw a wheat coin into the card game, glanced at her swaying back as she walked, and urged the dwarf, who was deep in thought with a strained expression, to play his card quickly:

"Bardin, if this round ends, I'll win, and I'll be the captain of the Rye Beer team."