Chapter 5. Pure Joy

Walking felt like treading on a sheet of thin ice.

Beneath the transparent surface, life’s turbulent currents swirled indifferently. Each step threatened to shatter the fragile barrier, keeping me constantly on edge.

Since that day—the day Nexiard whispered his thanks for saving him—he had remained in a deathlike slumber.

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I began to wonder if the barbarian arrows carried not just poison but a curse. A curse to entomb the soul forever, leaving the body to breathe but unable to wake.

Despite knowing it might be futile, I kept feeding him water and medicine, turning his body to prevent bedsores, and talking to him occasionally. Habit, inertia… Even such small things provided structure, a way to anchor a directionless life.

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“If you were to die like this… what would I do…”

“…”

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“No, I won’t think that way. You’ll live, Nexiard.”

“…”

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“You have to live. I want to see you love Lanafesia and find happiness together.”

I was talking to myself more and more, as if it had become second nature.

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At night, I laid a blanket on the floor beside his bed and slept there, my bones chilled to the core. By dawn, my throat was raw and sore, but I wasn’t alone. That simple fact brought more relief than I could ever explain.

❖　❖　❖

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Perhaps my devotion paid off. On the tenth day of nursing him, Nexiard made a noise.

It was a low, guttural groan, rough like an injured beast. I hurried to his bedside, fumbling through the pale, early-morning light.

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“Ungh… ahh…”

I touched his cheek gently, as if soothing a wounded animal. It still felt unreal. Nexiard Yul. The character from a novel I had once read.

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Only in moments like this—when I felt his skin, his warmth, and caught faint traces of sweat—could I accept this insane reality.

“I want you to recover quickly, but…”

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I pressed my finger lightly against his pale, cracked lips, speaking softly.

“…maybe it would be nice if you stayed like this forever… No, no, forget I said that.”

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Perhaps I was slowly losing my mind. Deep down, a small part of me thought this life wasn’t so bad.

‘Get a grip. Do you think this makes you special? If Nexiard knew, he’d find you disgusting.’

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My role was to give Nexiard wings. To prevent the future where he would be used like a tool and killed miserably by Neumonte. To ensure he could be with the one he truly loved.

I would create a stage where he could shine as the hero, even if there was no place for me on it.

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❖　❖　❖

There was a loud banging on the door, strong enough to shake the cabin. Snow piled on the slanted roof tumbled off, startling birds into flight. For a moment, it looked as if watermelon seeds had been scattered across the sky.

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“Is anyone there?”

Two men stood outside the cabin. One had a thick, brass-colored mustache, impeccably groomed, while the other wore fur-lined boots and sniffed at the cold air.

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“Who are you?”

I was clutching an armful of firewood I had collected from the forest. The man with the mustache turned his sharp eyes toward me, his gaze as sharp as his well-groomed appearance suggested.

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“We’re from the village patrol. Responding to a report.”

The man in fur boots flipped through a worn notebook theatrically as he added, “It’s about a missing person. A hunter, Kimber. Seems he hasn’t shown up at the hunting grounds.”

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“This is the Kimber couple’s cabin, isn’t it?”

“…Yes.”

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The memories I had deliberately pushed down surged to the surface. I could see the Kimbers’ final moments vividly, and nausea churned in my stomach. I had blocked out the details of how I managed to handle their bodies.

I forced strength into my frozen tongue, barely managing to open my mouth.

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“…It’s too late.”

“What do you mean?”

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“Bandits attacked this place over ten days ago. The Kimbers… they didn’t make it.”

“That can’t be!”

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The man in fur boots gasped sharply.

I placed the firewood on a stump in the yard and unlocked the door. The patrolmen brushed past me, stepping inside the house without hesitation.

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Their sharp eyes scanned every corner. The mustached man used his boot to nudge the edge of the wool carpet, uncovering a bloodstain I hadn’t fully cleaned. The dried, wine-colored blood crumbled into powder as the carpet shifted.

“There was bloodshed here.”

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I swallowed my rising frustration and explained calmly.

“The bandits ransacked the entire place. This is what I could manage to clean up after ten days of effort.”

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“And the bodies of the couple?”

“…I burned them. Their ashes are in the backyard.”

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The Kimbers’ ashes were placed in a cherished paulownia box Mrs. Kimber had loved and buried in the earth. I stuck a thin branch into the ground as a marker and offered a prayer for their peace.

As I finished, the man with fur-lined boots noisily swallowed his phlegm and asked.

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“And who are you?”

“I’m Myrda. I got lost in the mountains, and Mr. Kimber found me…”

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I had rehearsed this story in my head countless times, preparing for the day someone might ask. I woke up in the cabin, unable to remember who I was, and the Kimbers, unbothered by my memory loss, took me in with warmth and kindness…

As I recounted the events of the attack, the mustached man’s eyes narrowed. It didn’t seem like a good sign.

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“Why didn’t you report it immediately?”

“I already told you—I was too busy taking care of someone who was gravely injured after saving me.”

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“Oh, the prince on the white horse, huh?”

The man with fur boots sneered openly, amused by his own joke. He wandered the cabin, opening every door suspiciously before slamming them shut again.

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“Well, maybe he did ride a white horse. But when he saved me, there wasn’t one.”

“And where’s this prince now?”

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Fur Boots seemed delighted by his own sarcasm, but I walked past them silently and opened the door to Nexiard’s room.

“He’s still a patient. Please lower your voices.”

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“Oh, so he’s not imaginary, then?”

I defended myself quietly. “The bandits’ bodies were left in the forest. When I checked a few days later, wild animals had already taken care of them. I can lead you to the site if necessary.”

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“Could you step outside for a moment? We need to speak privately.”

I left the room and retreated to the kitchen. From there, I could hear the muffled murmurs of the patrolmen.

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“Too clean. The whole story feels like a well-rehearsed play.”

“Exactly. A normal woman would’ve been hysterical by now. Collapsed, foaming at the mouth.”

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“What if she’s in cahoots with the bandits?”

“They could be lying in wait nearby. It might all be a trap. That’s a real possibility.”

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“Let’s start by roughing her up a bit.”

Chills ran down my spine. What should I do? If this dragged on and led to a formal investigation, I’d be in serious trouble. This body belonged to Mine Molière—the villainess who had escaped execution. Even with the recognition-blocking spell masking my identity, Myrda had no legitimate status. Either way, it would end badly for me.

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“Hey, miss.”

Fur Boots approached, dangling handcuffs from one hand, his expression menacing.

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“You’ll need to come with us to the village.”

“…I haven’t lied to you.”

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“Well, we’ll see about that.”

The mustached man suddenly grabbed my wrist with a vice-like grip. His strength made it clear he already considered me guilty.

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“Ah! That hurts!”

“A woman like you won’t last ten minutes hanging upside-down. You’ll spill everything.”

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“I’ve already told you everything. I’m innocent—ugh!”

Before I could finish, a sharp slap whipped my head to the side. My cheek burned as if it had been branded, and the taste of blood filled my mouth. The mustached man had struck me.

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“Always takes a good slap to calm them down,” he muttered, shaking his hand.

“Arrest her—urk!”

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Suddenly, the room went dark, as if heavy curtains had been drawn. The pungent smell of dried blood filled my nose.

“Ahh! Argh!”

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“Violence…”

“What the hell—get off me!”

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“…begets violence.”

“Gah!”

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Clutching my skirt like a lifeline, I caught sight of a cascade of black hair, swaying like ink-stained irises in the wind. Even from behind, I knew who it was. His monotone voice confirmed it.

“W-we’re sorry! Please, spare us!”

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“We were wrong! Don’t kill us!”

Nexiard had effortlessly subdued the patrolmen. His hand, still speckled with red, flicked through the air as he spoke quietly.

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“Leave.”

“Y-yes, sir!”

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The two men fled without a backward glance, leaving the door swinging wide open. They didn’t even stop to close it, letting the icy wind howl into the room.

Standing stark naked in the middle of the chaos, Nexiard resembled a primordial human—unclothed but exuding a primal, unyielding power. His towering form radiated an aura that was both intimidating and awe-inspiring.

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He turned his gaze to me. His eyes boiled with unrefined ferocity, like oil bubbling on the brink of an explosion. His raw presence made it hard to breathe.

Then, he knelt.

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As if examining a newly sprouted bud, he gently tapped my chin with his fingers. That was when I realized I had been holding my breath.

“…Debt,” he murmured.

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“…”

“Paid.”

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The heat emanating from his body melted away the chill of the wind. His once pale lips had regained a healthy flush, like ripe cherries. From between them came his calm, even voice.

“Thank you.”

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Tears pricked my eyes. My throat tightened, and the only sound I could manage was a garbled cry. Nexiard seemed startled by my sudden tears, awkwardly using a finger to wipe them away.

“Tears.”

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“Ugh… sniff…”

“Are you sad?”

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I clasped his hand between mine, shaking my head as I smiled weakly through my tears.

“No.”

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I closed my eyes briefly, my expression softening.

“I’m happy.”

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