Please Forget Me - Chapter 211

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

If something had happened to him and he never came back, what use was it to keep his warnings?

Of course, searching for him might be pointless—but doing something felt better than going mad doing nothing.

“Sniff…”

Clutching only the revolver, I walked down the dark mountain path, sobbing.

‘…Huh?’

Hoofbeats began approaching. The sound of carriage wheels too.

They were coming this way.

Thinking it was Killian first, I almost called out—but stopped myself.

‘…What if it’s not him?’

I scrambled to find a hiding spot. The sounds grew louder, and faint carriage lights appeared.

I suddenly remembered a crucifix by the roadside and hurried back along the path. I crouched behind the altar of the statue, peeking out to watch the approaching carriage.

The carriage was pulled not by horses but by a donkey. The driver soon became clear. A man in monk’s robes and a hood, whose build and silhouette were familiar.

“Killian!”

Seeing the reins in his hand, I was sure it was my husband and ran out.

“Dana?”

Killian turned his head toward me and stopped the carriage. Somehow finding the strength, before he even got off the driver’s seat, I climbed up and threw myself into his arms.

“I told you not to go out.”

His scolding was anything but harsh—it was full of tenderness. Probably because I burst into tears first.

“Why… uh, why were you so late?”

“Sorry. I waited until sunset to come, afraid someone might see me coming here. Is everything okay? How’s your body? Have you eaten? Dana?”

I didn’t hear his questions—I was too busy rubbing my cheek against his chest.

“I thought you… wouldn’t come back forever, sob…”

“Dana, wait… let’s go inside first, uh…”

As he reached to grab the reins he’d dropped because of me, I covered his lips with mine. The kiss was rough—not just because I lost control from joy at seeing him again.

“Ah, your lips… why are they so dry?”

When we parted, Killian brushed his thumb over my rough lower lip and narrowed his eyes.

“Your cheeks look even thinner. You didn’t even drink water, did you?”

I hadn’t felt thirst at all until his saliva wet my lips.

“Killian.”

“Yes?”

“I’m hungry.”

Though I hadn’t felt hunger, tasting his lips brought it all at once.

A jar of apple jam, butter, a chunk of cheese the size of my face, and a stick of salami.

Each item Killian took out of a bag and placed on the table only added to my confusion.

There was even a basket full of fresh fruit and vegetables.

I was too stunned to do anything but watch the table fill up with food. Then when he sliced a large loaf of bread, and the rich scent of freshly baked bread filled the air, I gasped and asked,

“Where did all this come from?”

“From the monastery.”

His answer was so casual that I blinked, then slowly realized what he meant.

‘He went all the way to the monastery and back?’

Which meant…

‘He must have killed all the other monks there too.’

I didn’t ask.

“You would have feared those you don’t need to fear, stayed awake on peaceful nights, and suffered longer in anxiety and pain.”

Killian hid our true identities from me out of kindness, so I wouldn’t be tormented by fear. But in doing so, he bore that anxious truth all alone. Just as he didn’t want to burden me, I don’t want him to carry that weight alone either.

So I needed to know what he had done for us—but I couldn’t bring myself to ask.

If he was suffering, I didn’t want to stir up his pain needlessly.

But if he wasn’t suffering at all?

Then I thought I’d be the one who’d hurt the most.

“That bread looks pretty well baked for something rushed.”

Killian said, proudly showing me the cross-section of the loaf he’d sliced with a sharp knife.

I was already afraid—was the second try the right one?

“Smells good, doesn’t it?”

“…Yes.”

No, it didn’t.

The scent of the bread was far from comforting; my stomach churned. I think I finally understood the strange smell I’d caught earlier when I’d thrown myself into his arms.