Lord Summoner's Freedom Philosophy: Grimoire of Love
Chapter 367: Disturbance in Rain

Chapter 367: Disturbance in Rain

The cool breeze from the open window filtered into the inn, bringing with it the scent of rain and the quiet sounds of the city as it prepared for the night. Clarisse sat near the fireplace, absently running her fingers through her son’s soft hair as he slept in her lap. Across the room, Lyan was leaning against the wall, his gaze fixed on her, though he quickly looked away the moment she glanced up at him. It was a pattern she had grown used to over the past few weeks, ever since that kiss that had changed everything between them.

Lyan visited her every day now, for three hours at a time. It had started as a necessity—checking in on her and the boy, making sure they had everything they needed—but somehow, it had turned into more than that. They would walk together in the marketplace or sit at a nearby café, sharing quiet moments over tea. At first, Clarisse had been bitter and spiteful, her words laced with resentment and cutting remarks. She had thrown every sharp comment she could muster at him, hoping to keep him at a distance. But despite her biting words, Lyan always stayed calm, his presence steady and unshaken.

What frustrated her the most was that Lyan never argued back. He simply listened, his eyes soft and understanding, even as she lashed out at him. And the more time they spent together, the harder it became for her to keep up the act. Her words were still sharp, still filled with anger and pain, but her eyes... her eyes betrayed her. No matter how much her mouth rejected him, her heart seemed to soften toward him, her defenses crumbling bit by bit.

She hated it. She hated that she had begun to look forward to his visits, that she found herself searching for him in the crowd when they walked through the market. He was supposed to be the man she despised, the man who had taken her husband from her. But each day, the lines between enemy and protector blurred even further, and she wasn’t sure how to stop it.

Tonight was no different. Clarisse glanced up at him again, catching his gaze before he quickly averted his eyes. She smirked. "You really aren’t very good at pretending you’re not staring, you know," she said, her voice teasing but laced with the faintest hint of irritation.

Lyan chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck in a way that was almost bashful. "Caught again, huh? I guess I need to work on my subtlety."

Clarisse shook her head, but there was no bite in her response. "I don’t know why you even try to hide it. You’re such a terrible liar, Lyan."

"I’m not lying," Lyan said, pushing off the wall and moving toward her. His eyes flickered to her son before settling back on her. "I’m just... admiring."

Clarisse rolled her eyes, though a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She wasn’t sure if it was the way he said it, or the way his eyes lingered just a moment longer than they should, but something about it made her feel warm inside. Not that she’d ever admit that to him, of course.

"Admiring, huh?" she said, her tone skeptical. "You make it sound so innocent."

Lyan grinned, the kind of smile that was both charming and infuriating at the same time. "Well, it’s not entirely innocent."

Clarisse’s cheeks flushed, and she quickly looked away, her fingers idly brushing a lock of hair from her son’s forehead. "You’re impossible," she muttered under her breath.

"I’ve been told that before," Lyan replied, his voice carrying a playful edge. He took a seat on the chair across from her, leaning back as if to make himself comfortable, though she could tell from the way he shifted that something was weighing on his mind.

The tension between them had grown thicker lately. Every moment they spent together was laced with an unspoken need, a longing that neither of them had addressed but both of them felt. Clarisse hated it, hated how her heart raced whenever he was near, how her body reacted to his presence even when her mind screamed that this was wrong.

But tonight, the air felt different, heavier somehow. Maybe it was the rain that had begun to fall outside, the steady rhythm of droplets tapping against the windows, or maybe it was just the culmination of all the unresolved feelings between them.

As the night deepened, the rain began to pour harder, a sudden downpour that echoed through the quiet inn. Lyan glanced toward the window, then back at Clarisse, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face.

"Looks like I won’t be leaving anytime soon," he said, his voice casual, though there was an edge of something more in his tone.

Clarisse looked out the window as well, watching the rain beat against the glass. It was one of those heavy storms, the kind that could last for hours. She felt her pulse quicken at the thought of Lyan staying the night, her mind immediately jumping to places it shouldn’t.

"I guess you’re stuck here," she said, her voice soft.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The room felt smaller somehow, the crackling fire the only sound apart from the rain. Lyan shifted in his seat, his eyes lingering on her before finally standing up.

"I’ll get a room downstairs," he said, though his voice lacked conviction, as if he wasn’t sure if that was the right move.

Clarisse’s heart pounded in her chest, her pulse racing faster than she would have liked. She stood as well, carefully shifting her son to the small crib by the fireplace before turning to face him. "You don’t have to," she said, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Lyan’s eyes met hers, and for a moment, neither of them moved. The air between them crackled with tension, thick with all the things they hadn’t said.

Without thinking, Clarisse took a step toward him. Then another. Her body moved on instinct, driven by the need that had been building for weeks. And before she knew it, her hands were on his chest, her lips crashing against his in a kiss that was fierce and desperate.

Lyan responded immediately, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her closer as the heat between them ignited. They stumbled back toward the bed, their movements hurried and frantic, hands pulling at clothes, lips never leaving each other.

Clarisse gasped as Lyan’s hands slid over her skin, his touch igniting a fire deep within her. She pulled at his shirt, desperate to feel more of him, her mind clouded with desire. And in a matter of moments, they were both naked, their bodies pressed together in a fevered need that had been simmering for far too long.

But just as Lyan was about to pull her onto the bed, the door burst open with a loud crash, and the sound of heavy footsteps filled the room.

Clarisse and Lyan both froze, their eyes wide with shock as they turned toward the door. Standing there, drenched from the rain and breathing heavily, were Alice, Surena, Emilia, and Wilhelmina—Lyan’s trusted companions and Valkyries.

The air in the room was thick with tension as the women stood there, staring at the scene before them—Lyan and Clarisse, both completely naked, caught in the throes of passion.

For a long moment, no one spoke. Then, almost in unison, the Valkyries and Wilhelmina gasped, their eyes widening in recognition.

"Lightning Mistress..." Wilhelmina whispered, her voice filled with awe and disbelief.

Clarisse’s heart nearly stopped in her chest as she turned to face the women, her eyes filled with equal shock. "The Holy Lady... and the Valkyries?" she muttered under her breath, her voice barely audible.

The silence that followed was deafening, the tension in the room so thick it was almost suffocating. Lyan, for once, seemed at a loss for words, his eyes flickering between Clarisse and his Valkyries, unsure of what to do next.

The rain continued to pound against the windows, but inside the room, time seemed to stand still, the air charged with the weight of the moment.

Finally, Alice stepped forward, her eyes narrowing as she looked between Lyan and Clarisse. "What in the name of the gods is going on here?" she demanded, her voice filled with a mixture of shock and accusation.

Lyan cleared his throat, though his voice lacked its usual confidence. "This... this isn’t what it looks like."

"Really?" Surena quipped, her tone sharp. "Because it looks like you’ve been quite busy, Lyan."

Clarisse, still reeling from the shock of the situation, quickly grabbed the blanket from the bed and wrapped it around herself, her cheeks flushed with both embarrassment and frustration.

"I... we..." she stammered, her words failing her as she tried to make sense of what had just happened.

But Wilhelmina was no longer listening. Her eyes were locked on Clarisse, a look of wonder and disbelief on her face. "You’re really the Lightning Mistress," she whispered again, her voice filled with awe. "I can’t believe it."

Clarisse blinked, her confusion only growing. "What... what are you talking about? I don’t think that I’ll see you here as well, Holy Lady Knight,"