The Villainess's Secret Bedroom Service
Chapter 60: Genuine Concern

Chapter 60: Genuine Concern

’It appears even more harrowing when observed up close. I recall reading in a novel that the Holy Temple was entrusted with caring for the impoverished.’

Embracing a sizable paper bag filled with bread, she held it close to her chest, consumed by an overwhelming sense of sorrow and guilt. Though no stranger to the realities of poverty, witnessing the sheer atrocity of the Capital’s slums seemed to rend her very soul like an unyielding avalanche.

"Altair, how can such destitution be allowed to persist? Shouldn’t the Temple be providing these vulnerable souls with the aid they so desperately need?"

A deep furrow etched between Altair’s brows as he frowned, his large, pale hands firmly grasping the corners of a capacious canvas bag brimming with vegetables.

"The Temple’s aid relies solely on direct donations from nobles, and regrettably, such contributions have been sparse for an extended period."

Observing his expression, the girl couldn’t suppress the gnawing frustration within her. She bit at her lower lip, tormented by the injustice of it all.

’How disheartening... Even in this world where nobles possess immeasurable wealth and endure minimal hardships, they choose not to extend their abundance to those who genuinely need it. To them, that money is but spare change, but to these suffering people, it would mean the world.’

Abruptly, Altair came to a halt, positioning himself before Lady Ashter, his countenance now bearing an air of cold seriousness.

"Lady Rosalie... Though your benevolence is commendable, this singular act, unfortunately, will not substantially alter their circumstances. In truth, it may merely engender false hope."

Rosalie’s eyes widened, utterly taken aback by the seemingly callous remark. For a moment, she found herself speechless, her gaze fixed intently on the man before her. Gradually, the shock transformed into a flicker of anger, her face mirroring a subtle yet unmistakable irritation as her fists clenched in frustration.

"No, I must respectfully disagree. While it is true that a single act may not alter the enduring plight of these suffering souls, I fail to perceive any harm in such a gesture!"

Releasing a weighty sigh from her rosy lips, she took in the scene around her, as if endeavoring to etch every detail into her memory. Her tone grew more pronounced and impassioned as she continued, undeterred,

"Consider this: If you were in their dire circumstances, cold and famished, and someone extended a piece of bread to you, would you decline it? True, some affluent individuals may orchestrate staged acts of benevolence for mere reputation bolstering, yet when an act is undertaken with sincere and pure intentions to offer aid, I fail to perceive any wrongdoing."

As Altair wavered in response, Lady Ashter promptly took charge, firmly grasping the substantial canvas bags from his hands. Though the weight bore down on her slender arms, causing her to wince, she persisted, fueled by an amalgam of frustration and determination.

"If you choose not to partake, that is your prerogative. However, I implore you not to pass judgment on my feelings. I was oblivious to these realities, but now that I know, I am resolute in my desire to aid them and plan to make this kindness an enduring endeavor."

Despite the gravity of her words and the unwavering resolve etched upon her pinkish countenance, Altair couldn’t help but smile. It was the first instance in which he had witnessed such authentic anger driven by heartfelt concern, particularly from a noblewoman, when it came to expressing care for the impoverished. This sight proved both gratifying and curiously uplifting, leaving him touched by her unwavering spirit and intrigued by the pleasantly unexpected experience.

’Observe her... even the demon’s touch has failed to taint her heart. How peculiar.’

Subsequently, Altair retrieved the weighty bags from Rosalie’s fatigued grasp and proceeded forward, exuding an air of warmth and confidence as he did so. His features softened into a gentle and reassuring smile.

As they embarked on the task of distributing the food and beverages procured from the market, time seemed to pass with the swiftness of a blink. Before long, a lengthy queue of people had formed before them, their patience resolute as they awaited their portion of nourishment. With every outstretched hand, hesitant yet hopeful, Rosalie’s heart contracted with a mix of sorrow and compassion, sending subtle tremors through her chest.

’Perhaps Altair was right... Just by gazing into the eyes of these people, I can sense that they do not anticipate such benevolence to recur, and somehow... this realization is even more disheartening.’

Yet, it wasn’t solely the distress of the destitute that seized the girl’s attention. From the moment Altair entered her room until this present moment, Rosalie couldn’t shake the unmistakable feeling that something was amiss with him. His restricted movements, subtle shifts in expressions, and even the tonality of his voice bore traces of either discomfort or pain. However, she remained unable to discern the root of his concealed turmoil.

Until, at last, the revelation struck her: dark red stains moistening the fabric of his immaculate white Temple attire adorned his back.

Lady Ashter’s eyes widened in profound shock, her distress mounting as she hurried toward Altair, her voice verging on a near-scream.

"Altair! What happened to your back?! Your clothes are stained with blood!"

Upon hearing her alarmed words, Altair instinctively flinched, pulling away from her touch. Confused, he cautiously placed his hand on his back, his fingers encountering the warm, damp fabric of his tenuous attire.

’I didn’t have the opportunity to tend to my wounds today due to the prayer service. I suspect the constant movement caused them to bleed through the bandages."

As Altair’s gaze met Rosalie’s concerned expression, he hurriedly took a step forward, vigorously shaking his head to allay her worries.

"Fear not, Lady Rosalie, there is no cause for concern. Nonetheless... Perhaps it is prudent to cut our date short. I must return to the Temple to tend to my wounds. I deeply apologize."

Yet, Lady Ashter remained unconvinced by such a seemingly dismissive response. Instead, she took a resolute stride forward, firmly grasping the long sleeve of his pristine white shirt, drawing him closer.

"Pardon me, Altair, but that is just plain stupid! We must attend to your wounds immediately! Returning to the Temple would take far too long, and by then, an infection may have set in!"

Altair’s bewilderment deepened at the sincerity of Rosalie’s concern.

"Why are you so worried about me?"

"What do you mean, why?"

Rosalie blinked at him, her big gray eyes reflecting genuine confusion, unsure if his question was serious or playful banter.

"Isn’t it normal for friends to worry about each other? Even if we were not close, I would never simply pass by a wounded person bleeding through their clothes! Come on, we need to find a doctor or someone who can help! Where can we find the nearest one?"

An unfamiliar sensation washed over Altair, his emotions resembling boiling water in his core. Throughout his life, warmth and care had been strangers to him, and he never believed he needed them. However, as he gazed into Lady Ashter’s eyes, brimming with genuine kindness and affection, he found himself experiencing a newfound yearning.

With a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips, he shook his head and finally replied,

"There is no need for a doctor, Lady Rosalie. I believe we can manage this on our own."