TMKM 01

Chapter 01

Below is the complete English translation, keeping the original structure, tone, names, and meaning as faithfully as possible, in simple and clear English.

Nyx Paroa, the pockmarked-faced man.

Living trapped inside a broken shell, he was a man who received both great praise and harsh criticism from the world.

The man was obsessed with covering his skin. He carefully wrapped his scar-covered face in bandages. Over them, he wore a mask that showed only his eyes, with no mouth. He dressed in a coat and shirt that fit tightly against his solid body, leaving not even the slightest gap visible. There were dozens of pairs of custom-made gloves for his unusually large hands. The fact that those things never left his hands even for a single day clearly showed the man’s obsessive mental state.

The vassal knights of Duke Paroa judged him by what was inside rather than by his shell. But that evaluation came only from men who did not see him as a sexual object.

“When the sun sets and night comes, close your careless mouth and listen with sincere ears to brighten your spirit. Even today, the Goddess will embrace you in darkness. Confess without lies the sins you committed beneath the sun. At last, after repenting and being judged, you who have received the power of the moon will find the courage to face the sun once again. Thus, let there be dawn before the morning.”

The Saint recited the prayer of repentance in a reverent voice beneath the moonlight of the night.

“…Thus, let there be dawn before the morning.”

After the Saint’s fluent reading, the man’s response followed. His deep voice cut through the cold night air and settled heavily.

Devout followers of the Moon Religion prayed every day before going to bed. It was a prayer of repentance in which they remembered the sins they had committed during the day and promised to spend the night in reverence.

“Please forget everything terrible that happened today. Even the mistake of a son as devoted to his duty as you will surely be forgiven by the Moon Mother.”

The Saint said this as he withdrew his hand from above Nyx Paroa’s head. After finishing his prayer, the Duke picked up the mask he had removed and placed it on his lap.

“I hope so as well.”

The man stood up with a stiff answer. When he raised the black mask over the bridge of his nose, the only thing visible on his face was his sharp eyes.

Without saying much, the Duke offered his hand for a handshake. The Saint took it with a complicated expression.

It was rare to find such a devout man among the upper-class noblemen who wielded considerable power. Not only did he look up to the Goddess, but he also treated the Saint with respect and courtesy. Moreover, he was a religious hero who had devoted half of his life to exterminating heretics and fighting in holy wars. There were more than enough reasons for a man who believed in the moon to be enthusiastic about Duke Paroa.

“There is also a rather good prayer room here in Salt Castle. How about visiting it tomorrow and offering an evening prayer together with the other believers?”

When the Saint asked, the man silently looked through the narrow almond-shaped eye holes of his mask. He stared down at the short, wrinkled Saint for a long while before speaking.

“If it is not too much trouble for Your Holiness, I would like you to come to my room again tomorrow.”

There was a trace of discomfort in his emotionless voice. The Saint seemed to notice it as well.

“That will not be difficult.”

He did not ask twice. The Saint nodded. He gave the hand he was holding with the Duke one final, firm shake.

Then he gathered all the things he had brought with him and left the room.

Finally, completely alone, the man relaxed and took off his mask again. The skin hidden beneath the bandages was itchy and damp. It seemed the pus that had been troubling him for several days had begun to leak.

On the other hand, the backs of his hands were so terribly dry that he felt as though he had become a dried-up mummy.

“Damn it….”

The man threw off his gloves and stood in front of the mirror. He slowly unwound the bandages that began at his forehead, wrapped around his chin, and continued down to his neck.

Then a monster he could not even bear to look at was standing there, staring back at him.

Because he hated that hideous monster so terribly, the man turned his head away.

Nyx Paroa, the pockmarked-faced man.

The insulting nickname given to the man whose skin was as hot as lava and as deeply pitted as volcanic rock came from his skin disease.

It had happened when the man was still a boy, when fifteen-year-old Nyx Paroa was serving as a knight under Count Bellar.

Since ancient times, the western region of Bigland had repeatedly clashed with the Tilamin forces over Richfield, the land of abundant harvests.

Nyx Paroa had also been caught up in one part of those wars.

After that, he had to endure several terrible years as a prisoner until he became an adult. It was safe to say that most of the scars left on his body and mind had been created during that time.

Among them, the main culprit that had ruined Nyx Paroa’s life most cruelly was this cursed ringworm and inflammation.

The man rarely left his room unless absolutely necessary.

The reason was much the same as why he wore a mask and gloves in front of other people.

Just imagining himself receiving a laying-on of hands among a crowd made the man’s stomach churn.

Unless they were Guarding Knights or Saints, most of the laypeople who came all the way to the meeting hall to attend worship were young women.

And Nyx Paroa hated young women very much.

Knock. Knock.

No sooner had he removed his bandages and sat down on the chair than someone knocked on the door.

The knock was strong and confident, as if its owner was certain that he would open the door.

The owner of that rude presence did not even pretend to wait for an answer.

He suddenly pushed the door open and immediately sent complaints and accusations through the opening.

“Brother.”

It was a familiar title that one would normally use only when the two of them were alone, but it was filled with irritation.

The young man, slender and beautiful like a crescent moon, was Nyx’s younger brother, Desidero.

He was a handsome man with dazzling silver hair and fair skin.

The young man appeared with his quiet servant, Fried, hanging behind him.

Fried was the man who followed Desidero like a shadow wherever he went and took care of his needs.

The Duke himself had hired him for his younger brother. Calm and composed, Fried was someone Desidero trusted with almost anything.

In front of him, the brothers did not bother with formalities.

Even when they were having private conversations, they allowed the man to remain there without caring about his presence.

“I heard you didn’t show your face at the reception even once until the very end?”

The younger brother began scolding his brother as soon as he saw him.

He was saying that Nyx had abandoned the minimum courtesy and duty expected of someone of his position.

But Duke Paroa responded angrily without backing down.

“That damn wedding. One day should have been enough. Why do they have to make such a fuss for several days? Why should I endure the sight of pig-like men eating, drinking, and dancing all day long?”

“I told you that today was the last day, so you should attend at least for one day. You came all the way to this distant place for once. Whether they are unmarried ladies of marriageable age or fathers who have such daughters, you should make your face known to various families. When else will you have a chance to leave your territory like this and interact with other noble ladies?”

Desidero was genuinely frustrated and saddened by his brother.

At those words, Duke Paroa could not help but snort.

“That is exactly why I didn’t want to go there, little brother.”

Go out and talk to women?

Was it that he did not want to?

Or was it that he could not?

The Duke thought bitterly to himself as he took off his coat and threw it aside.

Then he began untying the laces of his boots, which covered his ankles.

“You said you didn’t want an arranged marriage that was awkwardly arranged through a matchmaker. Then you have to take the initiative and look for someone yourself. You need to have a woman you like before you can even try to arrange a marriage proposal.”

Desidero continued his complaints and nagging toward his brother, who barely seemed to listen.

After hearing it, the man was so dumbfounded that he no longer felt it was worth the effort to argue.

“Do you really think that’s possible?”

“What makes you think it isn’t?”

Nyx Paroa was Desidero’s idol.

In his world, there was no man cooler than his older brother.

“What could possibly be lacking in you as a husband? How rare is it to find a single man who inherited his title at such a young age like you?”

“…A title or medals do not make a man attractive.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His younger brother encouraged him to have confidence, showering him with praise.

“All the mountains and fields of Loudhill belong to you, and the status of the Paroa family is not inferior to the Jeroli royal family. Recently, you’ve even gained the title of Hero of the Holy War. That is truly a monumental and honorable title. No one can deny that Nyx Paroa is the greatest knight in Bigland, can they? I’m really proud of you, Brother.”

Listening to his enthusiastic support was embarrassing enough to make him uncomfortable, but Duke Paroa himself remained completely indifferent.

The man had no hope at all for his status or value in the marriage market.

The Duke replied with a bored expression and a slightly sarcastic tone.

“I’m sorry, Dero… But unlike you, women have no interest whatsoever in this big brother’s swordsmanship or skill at horseback riding.”

Husband and wife did not meet on horseback.

They met in bed.

Where in this world was there a woman who wanted to strip naked and roll around with a hideous, pus-covered, pockmarked man?

When his thoughts reached that point, the man became depressed.

With his mood sinking, he picked up the helmet lying on the floor.

Along with his mask, the helmet was Duke Paroa’s second skin and his face.

I like things the way they are. I’m not interested in women.

The man took a dry cloth and began wiping the dirt and dust from his armor as he thought this.