Chapter 213
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.
“You had to convince yourself this was the right choice, just like me, right? You pretend not to be anxious, not to feel sorry, to act like it’s nothing. Please say yes.”
I never asked, fearing the answer might not be what I wanted to hear. I wanted to believe he was sorry he’d abandoned his beliefs and done what he didn’t want to do because of me, rather than be afraid of him.
Even if it was the right decision, it was one he would never have made if not for me. It was all for me, all because of me.
‘If only I had trusted Killian from the start, followed his lead unconditionally, none of this would have happened.’
My distrust turned his warm heart to cold ice. This was all my fault.
“Want more?”
“Yes…”
“Looks like it suits your taste. Good.”
I swallowed the tangy bread soaked with my guilt, because it was my fault and I had to bear it.
Unaware of my feelings as I ate better than usual, Killian smiled happily all evening. He frowned briefly when he saw my scabbed fingertips.
He treated my wounds, gave me morphine stolen from the monastery, and late at night laid me down in bed, holding me gently in his arms.
“Now we’re safe. Sleep peacefully.”
But I couldn’t. The pain was too strong, even morphine couldn’t dull it.
‘Are you hurting too?’
It hurt to hope he was suffering. If so, should I hope he’d kill without remorse? That was painful too.
Whether from dizziness or morphine, my vision blurred and I closed my eyes. I felt him shift beside me and then his hand tenderly struck my bruised cheek.
Still keeping my eyes closed, he murmured,
“As long as you’re safe…”
His voice, bright and light all evening, now sounded dark and damp—as if speaking not to me but trying to convince himself.
Was he suffering too?
Relieved and on the verge of tears, I held back sobbing with all my might.
As much as Killian wanted me safe, I wanted him safe too. For that, I had to be safe.
So I had to hold back my tears.
* * *
A few days later, my period ended and we set off again. This time, riding on a donkey and cart stolen from the monastery, we reached the foothills where the front lines formed—only two days later than planned.
We spent several days in a nearby empty farmhouse preparing to cross the mountain. Then, just before dawn, as the ridge began to pale blue, I untied the donkey’s tether.
“Now you’re free.”
The greedy creature immediately headed for a haystack in the barn. While Killian checked that nothing was left behind in the cart, I followed the donkey and stroked its neck as it buried its muzzle in the hay.
“Live well. Thank you.”
The donkey flicked its ears as if annoyed by my words, but I wasn’t upset. The words were meant more for Killian than the donkey.
Since the day Killian returned from killing the monks, I’d been pretending to be safe—for him to be safe.
Smiling without pain, playing carefree, kissing him as if nothing had happened.
“Killian, do these pants look good on me?”
After his final check, with his bag on his back, I proudly twirled around in front of him. The pants I found in the farmhouse were my only practical choice; I couldn’t climb the rough mountain wearing a long skirt.
There weren’t many clothes that fit me, and these worn pants weren’t stylish at all, but I pretended to be excited anyway.
“You look good in anything. It’s a problem.”
He caught me mid-spin, draped my slipping suspenders over my shoulder, tightened them, and laughed.
Yes, if he could smile, that was all that mattered.
“I look good in anything to you, but there must have been a time when I looked the best.”
Walking from the remote farmhouse along the mountain path, I chattered like someone going on a picnic.
“When did I look the best?”
“Uh…”
“When I wasn’t wearing anything?”
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