Chapter 10. A Tale of What-Ifs

The quiet of the room was broken only by the soft splashing of water. Slowly, I peeled off my soaking wet, clingy clothes and reached for a solid bar of ivory soap, working it into a lather. It had no particularly pleasant scent—luxury soaps probably existed, but they clearly hadn’t made their way to the general public yet.

As I scrubbed my skin, my thoughts drifted back to <Bitten by a Mad Dog>, replaying the story in my mind.

A hundred years ago, the fall of the Ying Empire, once the dominant power on the continent, had ushered in an era of fragmented states. In the wake of wars fought for conquest, a few unifying forces began to emerge.

The Kingdom of Ingbury was one of them. With the help of the powerful magician Mine, they subdued the Newglia Archipelago, which jutted out like a rhino’s horn into the ocean.

But while the territory expanded, the king lacked the capability to govern it. Years of grueling wars had left the people weary. Perhaps it was only natural for a famed general, who had risen to prominence in such chaotic times, to eventually lead a revolution.

And then there was Mine Molière—the illegitimate child of the last royal family, an isolated figure.

Even if she had done nothing, the people’s hatred would still have turned toward her. She could have sought refuge in a foreign land, like the other princesses who had managed to survive.

Mine, did you truly not know? That Neumonte would ultimately betray you?

How could you have stolen military secrets for him without once doubting his intentions?

Mine Molière was intelligent—brilliant, even—enough to be called cunning. Her enemies tread carefully, fearing her.

Yet she allowed herself to be undone by love…

‘No.’

I bit down on my lip and shook my head.

‘I have to understand her. Even if the entire world condemns her, I can’t…’

Since inhabiting this body, I had gradually merged with Mine’s memories and emotions. To someone who had never received a shred of genuine affection, Neumonte’s love must have felt like a lifeline. It wasn’t “just” love—it was her only hope, however flawed. I could feel her desperation, clutching at what little she could, even if it was a rotten lifeline.

Mine had chosen to ignore the seeds of doubt sprouting in her heart. Even if that decision was a mistake… I believed it took courage to make it.

If the world judged her, dragged her to the guillotine, and despised her, I would pity her. I would stay by her side and shed tears for her.

❖　❖　❖

The sound of splashing water broke the stillness as I unhurriedly washed, letting the warmth seep into my body. Then, the door opened, and Nexiard returned, carrying a towel large enough to wrap me twice over and a small bottle of scented oil. I sank further into the tub until only my chin was above the water.

“Scented oil?”

“The innkeeper provided it. Said it helps with relaxation.”

That made sense. Considering I had nearly passed out and Nexiard had carried me here in that state, the innkeeper must have thought it necessary. Still, they seemed like a thoughtful person.

“Thank you. I’ll give it a try.”

Upon hearing that, Nexiard knelt by the tub. His eyes naturally met mine at the same level. Clad in his thick robe, he seemed starkly different from my bare self submerged in water.

I should have felt self-conscious, but I didn’t. His gaze lacked any vulgarity or inappropriate nuance. Instead, it was filled with a quiet, curious caution, like someone observing an unfamiliar phenomenon.

With a careful hand, Nexiard tipped three drops of the scented oil into the lukewarm water. His movements were precise, almost clinical, like a researcher conducting an experiment. He must have followed the innkeeper’s instructions exactly, given his lack of familiarity with such things.

A light herbal fragrance filled the air, not overpowering but refreshing. My mind cleared, and my racing heart gradually settled into a calmer rhythm.

Nexiard crouched by the tub, gripping the neatly folded towel tightly in his hands. His eyes flickered briefly to my bare shoulder, then back down, almost as if he were attempting to see through the water’s surface to what lay beneath. Feeling a sudden dryness in my mouth, I broke the silence.

“Why are you… staring at me like it’s the first time you’ve seen a human body?”

“It is the first time.”

“…”

“A woman’s bare body. It’s my first time seeing one.”

It struck me that, having spent most of his life confined to the facility, Nexiard would have had no opportunity to see the naked body of the opposite sex. His curiosity made sense now.

His outward appearance—the feral and intimidating air—didn’t matter. Perhaps it was the familiarity I had developed with him through the story, or the guilt I felt from having seen him so vulnerable while treating his injuries. Whatever the reason, I didn’t feel ashamed of being exposed before him anymore.

I lowered my arms, which had been crossed protectively over my chest. The water rippled slightly as my posture relaxed. My straightened shoulders and neck revealed more of my upper body, though still modestly above the waterline.

“You look fragile.”

It was a short but striking observation. I couldn’t decide if I felt insulted or if the way his brow furrowed slightly was oddly endearing. Pouting slightly, I muttered defensively.

“Not everyone has a body as sturdy as yours.”

“…May I touch it?”

“No.”

Looking and touching were entirely different matters. He looked like a scolded puppy, his figurative ears and tail drooping. Amused, I raised my voice like a strict teacher, mostly to tease him.

“Didn’t you ever have sex education?”

“I understand how men and women copulate.”

“Impressive.”

He hesitated before asking.

Is that sarcasm?”

“Yes.”

“…I can prove my knowledge.”

Now it was my turn to be taken aback. My shoulders instinctively hunched forward again. This man couldn’t distinguish between jokes and sincerity. I decided I shouldn’t tease him anymore.

“Just… um, could you close the door and step outside for now?”

“If I close the door, I can’t step outside.”

“…Open the door, step out, and then close it.”

“Understood.”

Before leaving, Nexiard added three more drops of the scented oil to the water. The fragrance swirled around me like fluttering butterflies. The moment the door shut behind him, I slid down into the tub, submerging myself completely.

❖　❖　❖

The next morning, Nexiard checked the back of Myrda’s hand as she stirred awake. The impulsively purchased salve seemed to have worked; the roughness on her hand had noticeably improved.

“C-could you let go of my hand?”

A blush crept up her ears. Was she running a fever again? When his fingers accidentally brushed her earlobe, she startled as though burned, quickly pulling away and mumbling to herself.

After her bath the previous night, she had fallen into a deep sleep, her body finally relaxing from its tension. Nexiard had stayed by her bedside, as steadfast as someone guarding a candle in a storm.

While Myrda ate breakfast, he visited the dimensional gate facility to confirm that his permit had been approved.

Myrda ate like a bird. She cut a small piece of frozen goat cheese, paired it with bread, and declared herself full. She barely touched her tomato juice, leaving most of it in the glass. No wonder she seemed so frail.

‘How did she even save me with that body?’

Nexiard wondered every time he looked at her. He couldn’t help but recall the warmth of the woman who had cradled him in that crumbling cabin.

After their meal, the two left the inn and walked to the clock tower. There, Nexiard explained the dimensional gate to Myrda. She listened attentively, her ears almost twitching with focus, but soon her expression darkened.

“I can’t use the gate, so… we part ways here, don’t we?”

“That’s correct.”

“…I see.”

Her lips parted as though she wanted to say more but closed again in silence. Instead, she gave a small wave and said goodbye, her voice light but her posture hesitant. Nexiard turned away, but his feet felt rooted to the ground, as if weighed down by iron shackles.

‘Why does it feel this way?’

Though no debt could truly repay her for saving his life, Nexiard had done all he could to show his gratitude. He was genuinely thankful. But he couldn’t remain by her side forever. His superior was strict and wouldn’t tolerate any further delays. Leaving her here, now, was the logical choice.

“Damn it.”

Nexiard turned back, startled to find her still standing under the clock tower as if anchored in place. Striding toward her at first, then breaking into a desperate run, he reached into his coat and pulled out a dagger.

It was a cherished item, one he had carried for as long as he could remember. Though he couldn’t recall exactly when he’d acquired it, he was certain it had been before he was taken to the facility. He handed the dagger to Myrda. She accepted it hesitantly, as though holding a boiling kettle barehanded.

“What’s this…?”

“If we meet again and I fail to recognize you, show me this.”

“Fail to recognize me?”

“There are… circumstances. Just do as I say.”

He couldn’t explain everything. As a former member of a special forces unit handling classified missions, most of what Nexiard knew or experienced was under strict confidentiality.

Understanding his tone, Myrda tucked the dagger into her cloak and whispered.

“Alright. I just need to show this, right?”

“Yes. It’s just… a precaution.”

“A precaution…”

Yes, this was all hypothetical. Nexiard knew his life operated far from the bounds of normalcy. Most people who crossed his path ended up miserable.

Thus, he could only say this to her:

“Let’s not meet again, Myrda.”

Myrda’s lips curved ever so slightly upward, soft and wistful. She wished for the opposite with all her heart, but Nexiard didn’t realize it.