A glass of milk, downed in less than thirty seconds.
He had to admit, his mood really was much better now.
“We can worry about food later. Let’s head back to the Lady’s base first.”
With that, he stood up and paid the bill. Just as he was about to leave, someone called out to him.
“Stop right there! Yeah, I’m talking to you!”
Alet had only heard this voice a short while ago—there was no way he could forget it.
He turned around, and sure enough, it was the same guy who had harassed Vivian earlier.
But this time, the tavern wasn’t empty. The man had brought three of his teammates with him.
“Damn it, that punch you gave me hurt like hell!”
“So you’re an elite adventurer, huh? You think you’re hot stuff just because you’ve got a party backing you?”
Clearly, this drunk was an adventurer himself.
Probably because he’d lost face earlier, he’d immediately run off to fetch reinforcements, hoping to win back his pride.
“Look over there. Looks like a fight’s about to break out! And that’s a heavy knight, too.”
“Pfft, a heavy knight? That just makes me laugh.”
“Well, well, what a treat for the night. This should be fun to watch.”
“Not bad.”
It was clear enough.
In this world called “Cloudmist Continent,” brawls among adventurers in taverns weren’t anything unusual.
No one tried to break it up, no one tried to stop them—everyone just sat back and enjoyed the show.
The tavern owner heard the commotion, came out to take a look, then tossed out a line before going back to polishing glasses:
“Try not to break too much stuff, all right? Anything you break, you pay for.”
“Got it. Don’t worry, boss.”
The lead drunk replied, then fixed his gaze on Alet again.
“All right, time to settle things.”
“I’ll give you two options: One, you get down on your knees and beg for mercy right now. I’ll let you go.”
“Or two, I’ll beat you until you’re on your knees begging for mercy!”
“Sir Knight, we were wrong! We really were!”
“Please, give us a break! We won’t dare do it again!”
In just a few minutes, the drunken adventurer’s whole party had been knocked flat by Alet single-handedly.
The drunk himself was left kneeling on the ground, begging for mercy.
Alet’s wounds hadn’t fully healed, but taking care of these small fries was hardly a challenge.
“Wow, did you see that? He took on four guys by himself and won!”
“He’s that strong?!”
“Guess he wasn’t bluffing—no wonder he’s an elite adventurer!”
“Aren’t heavy knights supposed to be weak, the trash class? He’s way better than me!”
The tavern at night was always a gathering spot for adventurers.
Everyone there was an adventurer, everyone was about the same level.
Watching Alet sweep four opponents at once was more than a little shocking.
And even more so, since he was from what was considered the universally acknowledged trash class.
Alet let out a sigh.
“I need to get back soon, I’ve been out for ages. If I’m any later, the Lady will probably get mad again.”
With that, he casually shook out his wrist and left the tavern, leaving the noisy crowd behind.
With his mood improved, even the journey back felt a lot lighter.
Standing before the forest mansion that served as their base, Alet raised his hand and knocked at the door.
“Come in.”
After getting Melro’s permission, he gently pushed open the door and stepped into the mansion.
“My Lady, I’m back.”
“Mm.”
At that moment, Melro was alone in the living room.
She was sitting quietly at the dining table, reading a book by the candlelight.
“Next time, come back earlier. Don’t waste my bath time.”
Melro didn’t seem displeased by Alet’s earlier defiance—her tone was calm and mild.
She closed her book and stood up.
“Take off your armor. Get ready to attend me for my bath.”
“Understood, My Lady.”
Ever since he’d been taken in and trained, Alet had taken care of nearly all of Melro’s daily needs.
That included helping her change and bathe.
After shedding his heavy armor and changing into everyday clothes, Alet gathered clean garments and followed Melro into the bathroom.
Tonight, Melro was as stunning as ever.
She wore a Gothic-style long dress, her whole being radiating a cold, “keep away” aura.
In those crimson eyes unique to the blood clan, there was both a lazy languor and a trace of danger.
After Alet filled the bathtub, warm, white steam gradually filled the whole bathroom.
He then began helping Melro undress, following their usual routine.
For anyone else, Melro would never allow such a profane act.
She wouldn’t even let anyone else touch her.
But Alet, the servant she’d raised since childhood, was the sole exception.
She sat on the little stool in the bathroom, yawning, legs up, entrusting herself entirely to Alet’s hands.
Alet deftly supported her legs, gently removing her tall leather boots and over-the-knee socks, revealing pale, pristine feet.
Next came the Gothic dress.
As the black-and-red fabric slowly slipped away, skin smooth as cream appeared, a hazy beauty amidst the dense white steam.
Her belly, shoulders, limbs—every part normally hidden beneath her clothes was gradually revealed by Alet’s careful, gentle movements.
Finally, there were the two forbidden places, hidden beneath her undergarments, swelling and untouchable.
At this point, Alet had to be especially careful—one wrong move, and Miss Melro would be annoyed.
But Alet was experienced; every movement was executed flawlessly.
Soon enough, Melro’s entire body had been stripped clean under Alet’s attentive care.
Her flawless skin, with its rosy glow, and her gentle curves were laid completely bare, save for a few strands of purple-red hair that offered a faint trace of concealment.
Serving Melro’s bath was nothing new—Alet had long since lost any impure thoughts about it.
“My Lady, the bath is ready.”
“Mm.”
She stood up and immersed herself in the steaming tub.
“Haa…”
Letting out a contented sigh, she adjusted her position, lay down in the tub, and patted the edge.
“Don’t just stand there—same as always. Come help me.”
“Yes, My Lady.”
At Melro’s command, Alet immediately came to the bathtub.
After undressing, it was time to wash.
Most of Melro’s body was now submerged in water, with only her smooth back and fragrant shoulders above the surface.
As a blood clan member, Melro almost never sweated.
Still, she kept up the habit of bathing every day.
Alet set to work, rubbing Melro’s skin from shoulders to waist with his palms, careful and thorough.
Melro let out a few contented hums, then closed her eyes and lost herself in Alet’s perfect service.
Suddenly, Alet’s brows furrowed.
His hand…
It seemed to have touched something… unusual.