Chapter 118: Reunion
A commanding presence that made the entire dungeon seem smaller arrived. A man with black hair, just long enough to brush over his hidden eyebrows, framed a face both striking and cold.
He was tall and broad-shouldered, with fair but healthy skin, and he had a body built for battle and a gaze sharp enough to freeze anyone in place. His violet eyes, intense and unblinking, radiated an untouchable air of authority, making it clear he did not need words to dominate a room.
He was handsome in a way that felt distant and dangerous.
That is how the book would probably describe the appearance of this person. I knew he had an important role in this world, not just an extra.
It’s like when you read a comic and a handsome or pretty and remarkable character appears, you should expect that they are part of an arc or something significant, and how ordinary and forgettable the faces of the two guards who followed the man from behind were, means they’re extras.
"Sickly wife?" A baritone voice echoed. Even his voice was attractive.
But please, whoever you are, don’t ask where that ’sickly wife’ is. I don’t want to raise my hand.
"I see no one, let alone a woman, other than the man behind you."
Claude, who didn’t seem anxious or nervous at the presence of the man, bluntly replied, "He is indeed my poor, sickly wife."
The man raised his eyebrow. His gaze flicked on me, and honestly, I don’t know what face I should make. Admit it? Hell, nah. What if they condemn same sex marriage in this world? The captain and I might be executed.
The nobleman didn’t wrinkle his nose or draw his sword at Claude’s words. Instead, a spark of something — was that amusement? — lit up his sharp violet eyes, mixed with a strange relief. What for?