The next day, Arabella did not meet up with AE to go to the sauna.
The reason was simple—Arabella had her period.
She had no desire to fill the room with blood of period.
Arabella went out alone to buy daily necessities, having sent Raven on an errand.
Albatross stayed at home, making soup for her, claiming it was to nourish her energy and beauty.
Arabella wasn't interested in such things, but with the addition of Nicholas as her butler, he could speak of times a million years ago and of those yet to come, ten million years ahead, leaving her dizzy. All she could do was drink that foul-tasting soup.
Having filled her stomach with soup, Arabella seized the opportunity to sneak away for some peace and quiet.
Arabella herself found her relationship with Nicholas somewhat baffling.
It seemed that only because Nicholas truly wasn't afraid of her, could he unleash his incessant chatter with such finesse.
Yet whenever she felt angry, she found herself distracted by his eyes, which were strangely familiar, and would let her thoughts wander.
She imagined that her young boy, when he grew up, would also care for her with such tender concern.
Thinking of this, she felt that Nicholas's nagging had transformed into a form of indirect happiness—an happiness she would never again experience in her life.
As she walked down the street, Arabella caught the scent of something delicious. There were many stalls at the corner, selling grilled skewers, pastries, and cakes in various forms.
Arabella fixed her eyes on the cake stall. Probably due to her period, she, who usually didn't care for sweets, found herself craving something sweet at this moment.
However, indulgence in food was still a form of desire. Arabella took a deep breath, torn between longing and restraint, standing by the cake, savoring the scent to satisfy her craving.
As she stood there, inhaling the scent, she felt someone slowly approaching from behind. Not sensing any malice, she quietly observed the situation.
To her surprise, the person seemed unsure of how to approach and, after some time, had barely gotten any closer.
Arabella stood patiently in place, her gaze unconsciously drifting back to the cake.
"Miss? Is that you?" came a soft voice from behind, its tone pleasant, yet tinged with a hint of shyness.
As soon as Arabella heard the sound, she nearly lost control of her expression, almost letting out a sinister smile.
It was as if someone was offering a pillow to a person who was already sleepy.
The fool had come right to her door.
Turning around, Arabella saw Julius, whom she hadn't seen in a long time.
He had lost quite a bit of weight, his hair cut short, which added a touch of masculinity to his appearance. The once bright, limpid eyes now carried a hint of aggression due to the change in hairstyle, and coupled with his naturally sharp brows, he looked even more strikingly handsome.
To her surprise, this fool looked much more appealing now that he had shed his scholarly, delicate appearance.
When Julius confirmed that she was the woman he had been thinking of, he was so happy he didn't know what to do with his hands: "Miss, this is wonderful. I can't believe I'm seeing you here!"
Arabella nodded, intrigued by how such a fool had managed to survive in such chaotic times: "What brings you here?"
"I am with my fellow believers," Julius began, and as soon as he spoke of his faith, the words flowed effortlessly. "This place is plagued by constant turmoil, and it is truly necessary for us to come together with love and compassion to enlighten them. Our deity is peace—" As soon as Julius spoke of his doctrine, he was filled with zeal, eager for every soul he met to understand the true meaning of peace.
Arabella silently listened, rolling her eyes internally, thinking that the reason this fool had survived was probably because everyone else had learned to avoid him.
Unable to tolerate it any longer, Arabella lowered her voice and spoke, "Shut up."
He suddenly stopped mid-sentence. Julius instinctively covered his mouth, his eyes wide, his cheeks puffing out as he stifled the words, erasing the earlier sharp, aggressive stance entirely.
"Do you have something to do later?"
Julius almost shook his head, but after a moment's hesitation, he nodded. He couldn't lie.
"What is it?"
"Handing out flyers," Julius said, holding up a stack of papers.
Arabella had thought dealing with this fool would be easy, but after seeing him again, she realized he was quite troublesome.
"Let's go. Hand them out together." Arabella took the pamphlet from Julius's hand, her mind wandering—wondering if, when she killed, she might indulge in such a dark, twisted sense of humor.
She walked ahead, covering a hundred meters, only to realize that Julius had not followed.
With a touch of impatience, she turned around, only to see Julius standing in front of the cake stall, just having bought two little cakes, jogging over to her.
"Miss, I wanted one of these. So I bought one for you too. Would you like to try it?"
Julius's face was beaming with a smile, and with a gleam in his eyes, he handed her the small cake.
Arabella glanced down. It was thick with syrup, the sugary scent filling the air and making her mouth water.
She took the cake, her throat involuntarily tightening as she suppressed the urge to swallow, keeping a composed smile on her face. "I'm not really fond of it."
Julius's smile was as sweet as the cake on his hand, his gaze shimmering with colors, his eyes gleaming with the warmth of his nature.
His upbringing taught him never to expose the small hypocrisies of others. Of course, he also cared for her pride, discreetly buying the things she liked when she was too embarrassed to ask, without making her feel uncomfortable.
The two of them ate the cake, each holding a pamphlet in hand.
Though Arabella had agreed to help, in truth, she was merely standing by, watching coldly as Julius was rejected, shooed away, or had the pamphlets snatched and tossed aside. Occasionally, someone would even warn him with a raised fist.
In a land ravaged by war, where even basic sustenance was not guaranteed, who could possibly concern themselves with such lofty ideals?
Perhaps only someone like Julius, a flower in a greenhouse, would believe that everyone could achieve love and peace just like him?
Arabella followed Julius, spending most of the day handing out flyers.
As the sky grew darker, not a single pamphlet had been handed out. Instead, they were trampled on the ground, many of them now crumpled and stained.
Julius looked foolish, but his determination was unyielding. Despite being rejected countless times, he remained full of energy and confidence.
Arabella followed behind, eating the whole way. After finishing her cake, her gaze shifted to the hot-dog, and not long after, Julius hurriedly took out money to buy them.
Foolish as he was, he was still quite perceptive.
Arabella ate messily, grease splattering everywhere as she kept licking her lips. If it had been Nicholas, he would probably have lectured her endlessly.
Julius didn't lecture her; instead, he silently handed her a handkerchief.
The handkerchief was as clean as snow, its silk surface smooth and lustrous, offering a wonderfully soft touch.
Arabella wiped her mouth without hesitation, and before long, the pristine handkerchief was crumpled and dirty again, which she handed back to Julius.
When Julius bent down to take the handkerchief, he accidentally bumped into a few burly men, or rather, they intentionally collided with him.
Here was a place of poverty and backwardness, full of all kinds of people, where crime ran rampant. The narrow streets were often deserted, and street fights were common.
These men had their sights set on Arabella.
Though Arabella's appearance was not strikingly beautiful, her skin was as smooth and flawless as snow, and her slender, tall frame stirred more than a few impure thoughts in others.
In the past, she was always accompanied by Raven, whose imposing aura made ordinary people steer clear and avoid provoking him.
Now that Raven was absent, replaced by a frail scholar, those who harbored ill intentions towards her began to surface.
Anyone who dared approach her was surely out of their mind—how could they dare set their sights on Arabella?
Arabella moved slowly, standing still in her place.
In her mind, she was still pondering whether, with the fool standing nearby, it was time to spill blood—wondering if it would scare him.
Julius had already spread his arms, positioning himself in front of her.
"What do you want to do? Think about it—you have mothers, sisters as well. What if they were to encounter—ouch!"
A scream pierced the air as Julius was struck hard in the face, the words of his preaching cut short. His nose was injured, and blood poured out.
Sighing, Arabella placed two fingers on his pressure points at the back of his neck, applying slight force, and Julius collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
Once the embarrassment was taken care of, Arabella turned to the men with a smile.
One of them burst into wild laughter, "Little lady, you're better off with us. Your man was knocked out by a single punch. Will him satisfy you?"
The others followed with lewd laughter, closing in on Arabella.
Arabella lowered her head, slowly rolling up her sleeves. She was wearing a floral shirt today, the one Nicholas had picked for her before she left the house. He had said that girls should dress in a way that made them look prettier, more vibrant.
After a moment's thought, Arabella decided against shedding blood.
If it splattered on her clothes, she would get another lecture when she got home.
As she was embraced, Arabella's eyes gleamed darkly, and her smile became even more radiant.
"Are you all planning to go at once?"
The men froze for a moment, then grinned in realization, "So you're a little slut. Come on, let us satisfy you."
"Sure—" Arabella grinned, extending her hand. When she struck, the man holding her froze, his body went limp, and with a loud crack, he fell to his knees, his eyes ruptured as he collapsed.
Before the others could react, Arabella swiftly seized one of them by the neck, twisting with a single, forceful motion. The sharp snap of his shin bone echoed in the air as it broke cleanly.
The remaining three froze, but there was no time for them to retreat even a single step. Arabella's leg shot out in a sidekick, her foot cutting through the air like a blade. With a flash of movement, she shattered his hip bone with a brutal strike, the force carrying through as she spun and slammed into another man's chest. The impact caved in his ribcage, and blood began pouring from his mouth and nose as his sternum cracked under the pressure.
The last man tried to flee, but in a few swift steps, Arabella was upon him. She grabbed him from behind, delivering a crushing blow to the back of his head with a single palm strike. The sickening crack of his skull was followed by the grotesque twist of his face as he crumpled lifelessly to the ground.
The entire sequence was seamless, lightning-fast—within mere minutes, all four men were dead.
Her combat experience had taught her that only a heart as steadfast as rock could ensure victory with every strike. When it came to action, there was no hesitation—only speed and ruthlessness.
It was her moment of hesitation in front of Marcellus that had led to endless consequences.
One careless mistake, and the entire game was lost.
When Julius finally regained consciousness, clutching his nose, he found that Arabella had emptied his pockets, buying herself plenty of things, and had found a quiet spot to slowly enjoy her meal.
Dazed, he looked around and realized they were no longer where they had been.
"Where are we? Just now—those people—"
Arabella chewed contentedly, casually inventing a story. "The police came and chased them off. Then they helped move you here to rest."
Julius nodded eagerly, feeling somewhat reassured. "You see—the police are quite responsible. When I arrived, the locals were saying the police were corrupt and ineffective, unable to manage anything. But really—one must look at things through a lens of kindness. We—"
"Shut up." Arabella casually shoved the half-eaten hamburger into his mouth, cutting him off.
Julius's face turned bright red, and he hastily spit the hamburger out. His handsome face flushed with embarrassment. "Miss... There must be purity between men and women. I cannot allow myself to just accept your saliva. It would be a desecration of you. Moreover, our doctrine forbids any casual contact."
Arabella felt that her recent run of luck had been poor—one fussing man Nicholas wasn't enough, now there was a chatty bookworm too.
Arabella snorted, finishing her meal, casually brushing off her hands before standing up. "Oh, let me take you back to tend to your wound."
Julius's face was still flushed with embarrassment. Hearing that Arabella wanted to take him back, he hurriedly waved his hands. "No, no! I'll tend to it myself. How can I trouble you without reason? Another day—another day I will prepare a great gift to thank you for saving my life."
Had Arabella not had ulterior motives toward Julius, she would have likely twisted his head off by now.
Considering the time they had just spent eating and drinking, Arabella concealed the cold thoughts in her eyes, grabbing his collar and pulling him along.
"Shut up! No more words! I've saved you twice, you should listen to me. Does your deity allow you to treat your savior like this?"
Julius obediently fell silent, carefully avoiding letting his skin touch Arabella's hand, silently praying to his deity in his heart.
—Deity in Peace, please forgive my small transgressions.
Before nightfall, the deity hid his face in sorrow.
The deity wept for the broken wings of his pure believer.
Julius could never have imagined that the one he would dedicate his life to was not peace, but a devil with blood.
