To You Whom I Don’t Love That Much (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 066

66.

Turner, who Rosetta had expected to tease and abandon her after a few times, surprisingly kept seeking her out consistently. That said, it didn’t mean his attitude toward training her was diligent. Every morning, he’d show up with a face that looked like he’d just crawled out of a liquor barrel, order her to run five laps around the training ground, then vanish somewhere before Rosetta even completed her first lap—or nap soundly under a cool tree’s shade.

Today, he was casually sipping a fizzy drink with lemon slices floating in it—somehow acquired through dubious means—while flirting with a passing maid. Pouting his lips and repeatedly blowing kisses, he looked utterly ridiculous. The more she looked at him, the more apparent it became that he was a man utterly devoid of seriousness. Her past self, who had once thought well of him, now seemed distant and absurd. Rosetta clicked her tongue in disdain.

Despite all his flaws, there were a few reasons why Rosetta tolerated Turner. First, she didn’t have to personally seek him out to check on the progress of her request. Second, after enduring this routine for about a week, she noticed—however faintly—her stamina had begun to improve.

“Come on, come on. Just a little more and you’re done.”

When she reached the turnaround point on legs trembling with exhaustion, Turner cheerfully encouraged her. She didn’t even have the strength to raise a fist. Rosetta spat twice on the ground with all her might, a gesture of bitter resentment, then half-rolled, half-stumbled down the slope. Though she clung on by sheer willpower, each step brought a surge of nausea rising from her stomach.

“Haa… hah… haa…”

“Wow, you actually finished all the laps today.”

“Hah… hah… w-water…”

After barely completing the final lap, Turner greeted her with a smirk and handed over a canteen. Rosetta collapsed onto the ground without even thinking to wipe the sweat from her soaked face. Saliva dripped from her mouth like an old horse. She rinsed the metallic taste forming in her mouth with the canteen’s water, then poured the rest over her neck and head.

“Seriously, you’re harsh. Really harsh.”

Turner shook his head in exaggerated disapproval. Despite his tone sounding utterly fed up, his eyes gleamed with persistent, almost intrusive excitement—like a cat that had just spotted an intriguing prey. Rosetta hurled the empty canteen at his face. It would’ve been deeply satisfying to see it smack squarely against his smug features, but he easily caught it with one hand.

“How’s it feel? Do you think you’ve gained a bit of muscle?”

Gasping for breath, Rosetta answered with a finger gesture instead of words. Turner, seeing this, burst into another shrill, delighted laugh. He kept laughing until Rosetta finally landed a kick on his shin while drying herself with a towel. He made a big show of being in pain, though he clearly could’ve dodged it—only making Rosetta’s mood worse.

“Madman.”

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