Fortunately, after some explaining, they finally cleared up the misunderstanding—though Fenmu still felt he’d been unfairly dragged into it. Before, whenever he went out, he had to watch out for female perverts with bad intentions trying to grope him and drag him into an alley. And now he had people trying to frame him, too.

The world’s a dangerous place!

He hadn’t expected such a respectable-looking female knight to have this side to her. Had she stuck to her pious persona for so long that it had messed her up...?

“Ahem, so it was a misunderstanding. I understand.” The blond knight coughed like she had some lung disease to hide her embarrassment. Blushing, she asked, “Then my companion’s all right now?”

Fenmu gave her a contemptuous look. He didn’t rub salt in her wounds, but he did move a little farther away before answering:

“She’s fine. I was worried the itching from her wounds healing would make the Nun uncomfortable when she woke up, so I added some herbs that’ll keep her unconscious. Just yell at her a couple of times tomorrow morning and she’ll wake up.”

“There’s something in it that makes people pass out, too?!” The female knight’s breathing suddenly quickened again for some reason. The corner of her eye drifted toward the potion barrel. It really was completely empty, and a trace of disappointment crossed her face.

“Why is that what you’re focused on?!” Fenmu sighed. He had no idea what went on in this female knight’s head.

Weren’t people affiliated with the Church supposed to be so pure their halos practically glowed? How had she ended up with such a completely different vibe?

Kashalia pretended not to hear his gripe and returned to the composed manner she’d had when they met in the square. She nodded and said:

“Fenmu, was it? Your alchemy skills are truly impressive. Could you make some more for us? Twenty bottles—no, fifty!”

Fenmu glanced at the thick, paste-like white potion he’d made, then gave the female knight a complicated look:

“You planning to buy it so you can smear it on yourself for fun? You’ve got some interesting hobbies. No way! Go cook it in the mess hall yourself!”

Kashalia hadn’t even been thinking along those lines... Well, maybe for a second or two. But no matter how rich she was, she wouldn’t waste potion like that on some weird purpose.

“You’re talking nonsense, Mr. Veterinarian! How can you use such filthy thoughts to judge a devout member of the clergy? I’m only preparing for our upcoming expedition into the mining district!” she explained awkwardly, though she wasn’t very convincing.

“I can make ten bottles. Not a drop more—I’m out of ingredients.” Seeing the young, beautiful blond knight about to suggest something, Fenmu quickly added, “And I won’t accept materials from you. Then my recipe would be exposed. This is how I make my living.”

Actually, he didn’t care about the recipe at all. He just couldn’t be bothered to make more potions. He’d rather use that time to hunt a couple more bamboo rats to eat... Hmm, he’d probably eaten them all into extinction by now. He missed those days of roughing it out in the wild.

“But... Fine. Ten bottles, then.” Kashalia gritted her teeth. Then she remembered the sword and asked doubtfully, “Can you repair my sword, too?”

“If I can’t, why don’t you repair it yourself?”

Fenmu nodded toward the side. Kashalia followed his gaze and saw that her ancestral greatsword had been left in the woodpile.

She usually treated that sword like a member of her family. She polished it every day and maintained it regularly. And now it had been tossed into a corner like this!

Kashalia rushed over and retrieved the greatsword, carefully wiping the dust from it with her fair, plump hands. Fenmu picked at his ear and watched her exaggerated reaction in silence. He wondered how she’d react if she knew his Funeral Blade was being used as a kitchen knife.

“I get it! You were planning to watch me humiliate myself by tenderly fussing over my greatsword, then force me to give you my body! Otherwise, you’d destroy every last rune on it and throw it into the fire to use as kindling, right? Right? Right?” Her eyes brimmed with tears as she dabbed theatrically at the corner of one eye.

What was wrong with this woman?! Did she have a screw loose? Why did she always take things in that direction?! The axe I use to chop firewood is more valuable than your precious heirloom sword!

“Right, my ass! The sword’s already fixed. Try it yourself! I haven’t decided on the fee yet. I’ll tell you tomorrow. Now try it and get out!” Fenmu said bluntly. He was exhausted in body and mind, and desperately needed his master’s thigh-lock chokehold to soothe his soul.

“Are you kidding me? The characters in the runic inscription haven’t even been repaired yet. You didn’t notice that huge gash—huh?” Kashalia’s words caught in her throat. She stared at the runes in astonishment.

She’d seen the runic inscription on her ancestral greatsword countless times. She couldn’t understand it, but it was etched into her memory. Yet the familiar inscription was gone, replaced by a revised one.

And the new inscription had used the damaged section itself as one of its strokes. That was why, at first glance, Kashalia had thought the sword hadn’t been repaired.

How was that even possible? No, impossible. He had to be putting on some kind of act! How long had it been since she’d handed him the sword that afternoon? And he’d been busy treating the Nun just now!

She cautiously fed a thread of spiritual energy into the greatsword. Holy light flowed across the runes, illuminating the inscription. It shone even brighter than before. She carefully sensed the changes within it.

“How is this possible? Its ability to repel evil has actually gotten stronger!” The female knight gaped, unable to believe it.

“Now are you satisfied? Take your companion and leave. I’m going to bed.” Fenmu dismissed them without expression.

His attitude stung Kashalia. Men had never treated her with such disregard before. “You’re just a weak man, and you dare act so arrogant in front of a Church knight? You’re nothing but a coffin-maker, so full of—”

Fenmu glanced at the Nun lying on the Coffin, and the female knight faltered.

“...and a pretty capable potion-maker.”

Fenmu tapped the greatsword in her arms again. The female knight’s breath caught.

“...and a very skilled swordsmith.”

Fenmu sat on the Coffin with one leg crossed over the other and leaned back slightly. “I’m so tired. If I don’t get enough rest, I might not be able to make even ten tiny bottles of potion for a while.”

“I’m sorry! I’ll leave right now!”

Why did this humiliating feeling of being more and more submissive keep growing?! I’m a proud Radiant Paladin, and I’m being bullied and humiliated by a man whose cultivation is restricted! I want to fight back, I want to talk back, but I can’t do either. It’s so frustrating! So exciting! So wonderful!