Has the knight lady who married into the countryside fallen into depravity today?

Ophelia stood still, moonlight falling on her profile.

Klein waited a few seconds but received no reply.

As he was pondering whether he should try a different approach, Ophelia had already reached the wall and looked up to gauge the height of the top.

"This height," she said, "can you get up there?"

Klein walked over and craned his neck. The wall was about two people high, with smooth stone bricks on the surface, offering little foothold.

He looked at the wall, then at his own gilded robe.

"Uh..." He hesitated for a moment, "Should... we give it a try?"

As soon as she finished speaking, Ophelia took a few steps back.

Her movements were decisive: a running start, and a leap.

Her skirt billowed in the air, revealing slender yet powerful calves encased in long boots. Her fingers gripped the wall, and with a surge of strength, she gracefully flipped herself up.

The movements were so fluid, as if they had been practiced countless times.

Klein stood below, looking up at her.

Her figure traced an arc in the air, landing almost silently on the wall. Her knees were slightly bent, her back straight, like a cat perched on a tree branch.

The moonlight streamed down from behind her, clearly outlining her silhouette. Her golden eyes shone in the night as she looked down at him.

Klein swallowed hard.

He suddenly realized that the knight's wife he had married might be much more formidable than he had imagined.

Ophelia steadied herself on the wall and looked down at Klein below.

She paused for two seconds, then began to unfasten the clasp on her gauntlet.

The metal clasps jingled softly in the night breeze. She unfastened her right wristband, pulled down her gauntlet, revealing her wrist and palm.

Then he stretched out that hand.

The moonlight shone on her hands, revealing calluses on the base of her fingers and the area between her thumb and forefinger, with her knuckles slightly reddish.

She didn't say anything, she just looked at him.

Klein paused for a moment, then understood what she meant.

He grasped her hand and used her strength to climb up.

The sensation from his palm startled him slightly.

It's very rough.

It was much rougher than he had imagined.

The area between his thumb and forefinger and the base of his fingers were covered in calluses, feeling like worn-out leather, and even a little rough on the skin. There was also a thin layer of calluses on his fingertips, probably from years of holding a sword.

These hands didn't match Ophelia's delicate face at all.

Klein braced his feet against the wall, used his arms to push off, and quickly flipped himself onto the top of the wall.

When he regained his footing, he was still holding Ophelia's hand.

For some reason, Klein unconsciously rubbed his fingertips against the calluses on her palm.

It was hard, but warm.

It's like some kind of proof.

This proves that this seemingly aloof knight has experienced countless battles, shed blood, and been wounded, yet he still stands here.

He looked up and found Ophelia looking at him.

The moonlight and his face were reflected in his golden pupils.

Klein's heart skipped a beat for no apparent reason.

He immediately let go and steadied himself. The wall was narrow, and it was a bit cramped for the two of them to stand side by side; his shoulder almost touched hers.

"Thank you," he said, his voice lower than usual.

Ophelia nodded without saying anything.

She turned to look into the manor, her light gold skirt swaying gently in the night breeze.

Klein then turned around.

The night breeze carries the scent of grass and trees.

He rarely stands in this position to look at his own home.

The view from the top of the wall reveals the entire estate—the spire of the main building, the garden paths, and the old oak tree in the center of the yard.

The moonlight fell on the roof tiles, giving them a faint silvery glow.

Klein's gaze wandered around the manor.

The leftmost window on the third floor of the main building is his studio. The curtains are still open, and you can see the messy bookshelves and lab bench inside.

The room on the right is the study, my father's favorite place. The mahogany desk is still there, but no one sits there to review documents anymore.

Further down, outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of the first-floor living room, the roses that my mother loves should be blooming soon.

Klein stared at that window for a long time.

He couldn't remember the last time he had looked at the manor like this.

When I was very young?

Back then, his father would carry him on his shoulders, point to the fields in the distance, and say that those were their family's land, and that he would have to protect it from now on.

The mother stood by, laughing, and said, "Don't drop the child."

Klein blinked, pushing those inappropriate memories back.

"Let's go," he said, his voice a little hoarse.

Ophelia glanced at him sideways but didn't say anything.

She jumped first.

Her figure flashed through the air, her skirt and armor billowing and falling. She landed almost silently, her knees slightly bent to absorb the impact, before straightening up and turning around.

The moonlight shone on her face.

She raised her head, opened her arms, and prepared to receive the person.

Klein stood on the wall, looking at the posture below.

Golden pupils gazed at him intently and focusedly in the night.

The hands that were just holding the sword are now open, waiting to catch him.

Klein's throat tightened slightly.

"No need," he said, "I can do it myself."

After saying that, he jumped down as well.

He lost control when he landed, his heels hit the ground first, and he staggered back half a step.

The soles of his shoes hit the ground with a dull thud, much louder than when Ophelia landed. A tingling pain shot through his knee, and he winced.

Klein steadied himself and brushed the dust off his robe.

Thankfully, I didn't fall.

He looked up and found that Ophelia was still in the same position, her arms hanging in mid-air, as if ready to support him at any moment.

Moonlight fell on her face, and a hint of...worry flashed in her golden eyes?

"I'm fine," Klein quickly said.

Ophelia looked at him for a few seconds to make sure he was standing firmly before slowly lowering her hand.

She turned and walked towards the main building, her steps still steady.

Klein followed behind her, his footsteps particularly clear in the courtyard at night.

After walking a few steps, he couldn't help but look again at the straight back of the figure in front of him.

She had put her gauntlet back on her left hand, and the clasp was fastened tightly.

Klein recalled the calluses he had just touched.

He suddenly became curious about how many battles those hands had gone through to become like that.

When the two returned to the main building, the wall lamps had already dimmed.

Klein glanced at the clock on the wall; the hour hand pointed to 10:30. Dinner had been too late; it was time to wash up and go to bed.

He led Ophelia up to the second floor and walked along the corridor to the end.

Footsteps echoed on the wooden floor, and one by one, the wall lamps in the corridor lit up, as if welcoming the homeowner home.

The bathroom door was a dark wood door with a brass handle that gleamed warmly under the light.

"This is it," Klein said, pushing open the door. "The bathroom."

The room wasn't large, but it was very clean. Against the wall stood a white porcelain bathtub with intricately carved patterns along its edges. Next to it was a wooden shelf with clean towels folded on it, along with several bottles of bath oil.

There was a brass faucet in the corner, connected to a magically powered water supply system. This was a design that Klein himself had modified, capable of providing hot water at any time.

Ophelia stood in the doorway and looked inside.

Her gaze wandered between the bathtub, towel rack, and faucet, as if she were memorizing the location of everything.

"Do you know how to use these devices?" Klein asked.

Ophelia shook her head.

Klein walked to the faucet and placed his hand on the knob: "This is cold water, turn it to the right. This is hot water—"

"Cold water will do," Ophelia suddenly said.

Klein's hand froze in mid-air as he turned to look at her.

"cold water?"

"Um."

Moonlight streamed in through the window, falling on Ophelia's profile.

Her expression was calm, as if she were stating something perfectly natural. Her golden pupils remained unmoved, fixed solely on the faucet.

Klein stared at her for a few seconds.

"No," he said, "use hot water."

The voice was a bit harsher than usual.

Ophelia turned to look at him.

"Cold showers are bad for your health," Klein said. "They'll make you sick."

"I won't--"

"Yes," Klein interrupted her, his tone more determined, "No matter how capable you are, you're still human, not made of iron."

He walked up to her and looked into her golden eyes.

Ophelia looked at him.

The moonlight shone between the two of them, and the air was so quiet that they could hear each other breathing.

After a long silence, Ophelia opened her mouth, but finally nodded.

"Okay," she said softly.

Klein finally breathed a sigh of relief.

He turned around and continued explaining how to use the faucet. The right side is for hot water, the left side is for cold water; you can mix them to adjust the temperature.

"Turn the knob to this position," he demonstrated, "and the water temperature will be just right. Not too hot, not too cold."

Ophelia listened, nodding occasionally.

"The towels are on the rack," Klein pointed to the wall. "Just put the used ones in the basket. The essential oils can be added to the water; they smell nice. Anything else you don't understand?"

Ophelia shook her head.

"Then I'll go back to my room first," Klein said, walking to the door and placing his hand on the doorknob.

He turned around and looked at Ophelia standing in the bathroom.

The moonlight shone on her, making her long golden hair glow softly.

Her expression remained calm, revealing no discernible reaction.

"Remember to use hot water," he emphasized again.

He closed the door after speaking, and his footsteps gradually faded away in the corridor.

Ophelia stood in the bathroom, looking at the brass faucet.

She walked over and reached out to grasp the knob.

My fingers lingered on the metal surface for a long time.

In the end, she still twisted it half a turn to the left.

The sound of flowing water could be heard.

Cold water gushed from the tap, splashing into the white porcelain bathtub and creating fine droplets.

Ophelia looked at the water, its golden pupils reflecting the flowing water.

She still used cold water.

The coldest water.

It was enough to remind her of the seawater on the west coast—the icy, bone-chilling sea in which she had once fought and bathed.

The sound of water echoed in the bathroom.

Moonlight streamed through the window, falling into the ever-filling bathtub.

Ophelia removed the armor that symbolized her as a knight.