Rocke Visconti I met in the desert wasn't kind or friendly, but there was something strange about him.
—How can I trust you and entrust you with the water bottle? Come on, drink.
He forced me to drink only the water in his palm while he was suffering from severe mysophobia...
—You look stronger than me, so how do I steal the water bottle you have?
—What's that? That's it. So, is your name that way?
When he ran out of things to say, he used to make silly mistakes. His words are also very harsh.
—What is a saint? It was a title that was good to hear in order to hire a high-class manpower with strong divine power at low wages in the temple.
But Nyla thought he was a good person with a good heart, he only sharpening his words.
Unlike Fleur, he was tolerant of the weak and never abused his power. The arrogant atmosphere does not stem from bluff, but it must have been due to strong pride and high self-esteem as a noble.
Anyway, Nyla started to purify the deserted land by killing the poisonous monsters together with Rocke Visconti, and she was loved and respected by the people wherever she went.
In addition, Rocke Visconti suddenly came to be called the guardian of the saint and a magical swordsman of brilliance.
Although the real culprit showed extreme reluctance, saying that it was cheesy.
Fleur Montes felt a strong sense of inferiority and envy towards Rocke Visconti.
'Like Philaf.'
Fleur, who was chosen by the saintess and wanted to be recognized by his father who ignored him, turned black when rumors spread that the saintess and Rocke Visconti would soon be engaged.
Obsessed with what he doesn't have, and seeing the resemblance to everything he does, Philaf must be Fleur's reincarnation.
'Even though he's a guardian knight of the temple, I never thought he’d hit me like that.'
Fleur, who made a contract with the demon, lured him to a private house in order to secretly deal with Rocke, who was annoyed by everything…
—Rocke!!
“Oh, my…!”
I swallowed a short breath and raised my upper body.
* * *
“Did you have a nightmare?”
My heart, which had been pounding in an instant at the soft voice, gradually regained its original speed.
Usually, it was Isidor who rubbed and clung to my body from early morning, but today I dug into his arms.
As I rubbed my cheek against a hard chest with warm temperature, he gently brushed the back of my hair.
“You must have had a really bad dream.”
“…I saw past memories. There are times when I vividly face my previous life through a dream.”
“The founder patriarch in the dream wasn't mean again, right?”
As he dissed himself, he ran his long fingers through my sweaty back.
“It's not Rocke, it's Fleur Montes. It's probably Philaf's previous life.”
“…That unlucky bastard.”
