Chapter 9. The Brave Dog

After the strawberries, it was the bouquet of flowers. The wildflowers looked freshly picked, their dew-laden stems cool to the touch. I ended up clutching the bouquet tightly to my chest as Nexiard and I walked down the road together.

“Ladies and gentlemen, young and old, come one, come all, to the most laugh-out-loud circus! It’s not here every day!”

A clown wearing a bright yellow conical hat balanced atop a large ball, handing out flyers.

“Today’s the final day! If you miss it now, you’ll regret it forever! Don’t hesitate—come see the Meteor Circus, touring the entire continent!”

My pace naturally slowed. A boy juggling next to the clown winked and shouted loudly.

“Come see the mysterious animals! Witness incredible tricks! And enjoy a dramatic play for the finale! The Meteor Circus—your last chance!”

I had always enjoyed cultural experiences. I used to watch movies and musicals regularly, and if there was an exhibition I wanted to see, I’d go even by myself. That was all before I lost my family in an accident three years ago.

When was the last time I did something just for myself? My only hobby in recent years had been reading dystopian novels, but even that was less about enjoyment and more about surviving the despair.

I clenched the bouquet a little tighter. I couldn’t keep living like this forever. I wanted to experience normal joys again—not things I had to do to survive, but things that made life worth living.

“How much are the tickets?”

A firm voice broke through my brooding thoughts. Nexiard was speaking to the juggling boy, wallet in hand.

“Two tickets, please.”

“Nexiard?”

The tickets had a monkey in a skirt printed on them. The boy tore one corner of each ticket and handed them over.

“You can head in right now!”

Nexiard passed one of the tickets to me. Embarrassed, I couldn’t lift my head. Had it been that obvious that I wanted to see the circus? I awkwardly took the ticket, stammering.

“Th-thank you…”

“It’s repayment.”

“You already repaid me.”

“It’s not enough.”

Excited children ran into the circus tent, clutching balloons or ice creams, as their parents trailed behind, calling out, “Be careful!”

Nexiard lifted the thick curtain of the tent slightly and whispered, “No matter what I do, it won’t be enough.”

His hand touched my back, a gentle push urging me forward. Trusting the motion, I let myself be guided, swept into the tent like a ship sailing with a favorable wind.

* * *

I hadn’t expected the atmosphere of a grand theater, but I hadn’t thought I’d be so focused on not falling over that I couldn’t even pay attention to the stage.

“A lion! Look, Mom, it’s a lion!”

“Is that a real sword? No way!”

“Ahh! Stop pushing!”

There was no sense of order. The crowd was packed like sardines, shouting noisily. Off in one corner, a brawl had broken out between a couple of drunks, forming an impromptu arena as a ring of spectators gathered around them.

“Kill him! Kill him!”

“Now, everyone, on the count of three, Leo will leap through the flames of hell! Let’s shout together: one, two—”

“Eek! Someone touched my butt!”

Fireworks exploded onstage as a mangy lion panted and leapt through a flaming hoop. “He made it! Give it up for our Leo!” The crowd roared with applause as colorful confetti rained down, making the children go wild. The more chaotic it got, the closer Nexiard pressed to me, like he was determined to act as a human shield.

His body really did feel like a wall—large and unyielding. Pretending to watch the trapeze artists, I snuck glances at his profile. A stray fleck of glitter from the confetti clung to his cheek, sparkling like fish scales.

Surprisingly, he was fully engrossed in the show. His shoulders flinched, his fists clenched in tension, and his head moved absently to follow the arc of the trapeze while his mouth hung slightly open.

‘He’s… kind of cute.’

His wide eyes blinked slowly, like a curious child. All the while, I clung to his sleeve, my fingers hooked into the fabric.

* * *

The final act, as the clown had announced, was a short play. It started well enough, with a woman entering in a lavishly ruffled gown. But when she sneaked into her father’s bedchamber and poured poison into his ear, my blood seemed to drain straight to my feet.

“Ah, my dearest Neumonte! I offer you my father’s life! Please, love me!”

The crimes she committed for the man she loved—poisoning her father, cruelly torturing and exiling a loyal maid, and stealing military secrets—were all known as the misdeeds of *Mine Molière*.

“This is unforgivable, Princess Mirone! I cannot accept your heart!”

“Oh! If I cannot win your love, I’ll kill you and make you mine in death! So please, General Neumonte—die for me!”

Princess Mirone charged at Neumonte, wielding a dagger coated with deadly poison. The audience began jeering.

“Crazy woman!”

“Tear that wicked witch apart!”

Trash, spit, and stones flew toward the stage. The ringmaster waved his cane, shouting to the audience.

“It’s just a play, everyone! Calm down and watch to the end!”

The story reached its climax. Neumonte succeeded in his revolution, imprisoning Mirone in an underground cell. Watching her confinement made me feel like I was trapped as well. My body was drenched in a cold sweat, and nausea surged as if I’d swallowed a fistful of sedatives.

“Urgh…”

“Myrda.”

Nexiard quickly caught me as I swayed, his expression tense.

“You look unwell.”

“Huff, huff…”

I wanted to scream, ‘No!’ I wanted to tell everyone the truth. It wasn’t Mine who killed the king or tormented the maid. She had stolen military secrets, yes, but it was Neumonte who used her, holding her love as leverage. My mouth opened and closed like a gasping fish, but no sound came out.

My breathing grew ragged, my chest tightening as pins and needles spread through my fingers and toes.

“Gasp… ah…!”

“Breathe.”

“Haaah…”

“Emergency protocol initiated. Following rescue procedures.”

Nexiard’s voice was flat and mechanical, as though he thought I was pathetic. But then… he scooped me up in his arms.

“Secure airway. Breathe deeply.”

Cutting through the crowd with ease, Nexiard carried me out of the suffocating tent. The open air hit me like a wave, flooding my lungs.

“Exhale. Slowly.”

“Whew… whew…”

“Repeat after me. Inhale.”

Clinging to his chest, I inhaled desperately, the scents of darkness, dust, and ice filling my senses.

“Exhale.”

“Whew…”

“Repeat.”

“Whew… whew…”

“You’re doing well.”

When my breathing finally stabilized, I realized we were already back at the inn. Nexiard gently laid me on the creaky bed, muttering as if cataloging symptoms.

“Pale complexion. Sweat. Mild fever.”

He removed his robe and reached for my shirt.

“W-wait, no!”

I instinctively pulled the blanket up to my chin, my voice shrill. His hands hovered uncertainly before timidly grasping the edge of the blanket. I bit my lip, half-expecting him to tear through the bedclothes with his strength.

“I-I’m fine now!”

“The fever must be reduced.”

“A bath will help—”

“Remove your clothing. It is the most efficient method.”

Without waiting, he yanked the blanket aside.

“Alright! Alright, I’ll do it myself! Just… let me!”

“…Understood.”

As if drained of energy, I forced him to turn around and slowly undressed. The sound of fabric scraping my skin and my nervous swallowing seemed deafening, nearly making me dizzy all over again.

“I’d like to wash up,” I murmured.

“Yes.”

Like a triggered automaton, Nexiard sprang to his feet.

“I’ll prepare the bathwater.”

“No, just step out—”

But he moved too quickly for my voice to stop him. Before I knew it, he returned, sleeves rolled up.

“The bath is ready.”

“…”

I felt like a pampered noblewoman being attended by a maid. The rickety windows rattled in the wind, and the pillows and blankets were so flat they seemed lifeless, but still…

“Thank you.”

Nexiard stared down at me, unblinking, his gaze oddly unwavering. My cheeks burned under his scrutiny, and my mouth felt parched.

“Uh… are you going to just stand there?”

“Ah.”

With a sound of realization, he stepped closer and lifted me effortlessly.

“That’s not what I meant—!”

Resistance was futile. He placed me in the tub of warm water, my thin undergarments soaking through instantly.

Satisfied, he knelt beside the tub and said, “I’ll assist.”

It suddenly hit me—Nexiard had once been tasked with attending to General Neumonte’s baths.

Neumonte had made a cruel habit of asserting his authority by humiliating others, forcing male subordinates to serve him personally.

Now, Nexiard knelt dutifully by my side, waiting for my command as though it was only natural. My chest tightened painfully.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“It is my duty.”

“This isn’t your duty!”

When I raised my voice, Nexiard blinked and looked up, startled. I bit my lower lip. I didn’t want to, but I had to speak in a way he’d understand.

“While I bathe, you are to step outside and rest.”

His reaction was immediate. He lowered his gaze submissively and obeyed, quietly closing the door behind him.

“…”

I flicked the surface of the water with my fingers. My head felt like it might burst.