Final Regression of The Legendary Swordmaster Chapter 66

Fiona stepped forward slowly, then stopped, as if testing the ground beneath her feet. The room was quiet, filled only with the faint sound of water dripping somewhere in the bathing chamber behind Edward.

Her two months away in her hometown had changed her more than she had expected. It was not just the distance, but the quiet time spent watching her mother live day by day without complaint. Her mother woke early, worked until her hands ached, and still found the strength to smile at night. Life had not been kind to her, yet she endured without bitterness. Fiona had watched that strength closely. Slowly, it had settled into her bones.

She lifted her head and looked at Edward properly.

He was taller than she remembered. Or maybe it was not his height that had changed, but the way he carried himself. The boy she once served moved carefully, often withdrawn, always aware of his weakness. The man before her stood like someone who belonged exactly where he was, as if the world adjusted itself around him.

She took another step forward.

"How should I address you?" she asked, her voice steady despite the tightness in her chest. "My lord, or master?"

Edward did not react immediately. He finished folding the cloth in his hands and placed it on a nearby table. Then he turned to face her fully.

"You were assigned to me as my personal maid," he said calmly. "That has not changed. But still, you may use whichever title you prefer."

She nodded quietly and walked closer.

"Then master," she said after a brief pause. Her voice did not tremble.

Edward gave a small nod, accepting it without comment.

She moved to the wardrobe and selected his inner garments. The room felt smaller as she returned to him, though neither of them rushed. She helped him slip his arms into the robe, adjusting the fabric along his shoulders and chest. Her fingers were careful, respectful, but no longer hesitant.

As she worked, she spoke again, her tone cautious but curious.

"There are many stories outside," she said.

"People always talk," Edward replied.

She tightened the sash slightly, then loosened it again to make sure it sat comfortably.

"They say you killed the Marquis yourself," she continued. "And the Duke. Some said what you did was cruel."

Edward’s gaze shifted briefly toward the window, where moonlight filtered through thin curtains.

"Violence is always called cruel by many," he said. "And necessary by those who have mastered its arts."

She adjusted the sleeves of his robe and stepped back half a pace. Her eyes searched his face, trying to understand him. She remembered the boy who didn’t complain when servants whispered behind his back.

"You did not take the title gently," she said. "That much is clear."

"No," Edward agreed. "I did not."

Then, as she reached for his outer garments, a thought surfaced in her mind, uninvited but persistent. It lingered as her hands moved automatically. She tried to ignore it, but it grew louder with every second.

Edward had been known as the third son who could not use mana. Everyone in the estate knew that. Everyone in the capital had known it. Weak, talentless, harmless.

And yet, he had killed a Marquis and an Archmage Duke.

Her fingers slowed.

She did not ask how. She did not ask when it changed.

She bent down to tie the rope of his trousers, her movements familiar and practiced. The knot was halfway done when her hands froze.

Her thoughts tangled.

She was kneeling before him. She had not planned it. It was simply the position her task required. But now that she was there, the weight of it pressed on her chest. She was no longer a child. She was no longer unaware of herself.

She raised her head slowly.

Edward looked down at her, his expression unreadable.

The question left her lips before fear could stop it.

"Do you find me attractive?"

The words hung in the air, heavy and impossible to take back.

Edward did not answer immediately.

For a brief moment, the room seemed to still. Fiona’s heart pounded so loudly she was sure he could hear it. Her hands rested loosely in her lap, no longer touching his clothes.

She had built confidence while staying far away in her hometown, and during that time, many men asked for her hand in marriage, preparing for when she would eventually come of age. Fiona, of course, rejected and snubbed all of them. At first, she thought it was because the men were not attractive, but even when those who were objectively attractive appeared, she still turned them down. That was when she came to a realization. Even if she tried to deny it at times, she could no longer ignore her feelings forever. She had grown attached to Edward. She didn’t even stay with him for a week after she had been assigned as his personal maid, yet the way he treated her with respect, despite her being a servant, felt deeply attractive to her. She had never intended to like a noble, especially after what had happened to her mother, but still, Edward was different, or at least that was what she told herself.

"You should stand up," Edward said quietly.

Fiona did not move. She remained kneeling before him, her posture undeniably seductive, her face angled toward his pelvic region.

"I asked you something," she said, her voice steady despite the heat of the moment.

Edward sighed softly, not out of irritation, but thought.

"Fiona," he said, using her name for the first time since she entered the room. "That is not a simple question."

Fiona swallowed. "Then give me one minute. That is all I ask. Then after that, give me your answer."

She reached for his trousers, loosening the rope he had just tied. Edward knew what she was about to do, yet he did not stop her. He had always known that Fiona harbored feelings for him. In every regression, it had been the same. She cared for him, but he could never reciprocate, because everything would be meaningless once he eventually regressed again. Still, he did not stop her. Edward was a man, after all. Even if he suppressed his emotions, he could not completely suppress his desire for pleasure.