Chapter 6. Let’s Go, Lady

Nexiard devoured the food as if determined to deplete what little provisions we had. Smoked venison reeking of firewood, sugar-soaked apples, and half-rotten cabbage vanished in an instant. It was as if he wanted to flaunt his vitality through his voracious appetite. Watching him eat so savagely made it almost uncomfortable to even look at him.

As expected, Mr. Kimber’s clothes were too small for Nexiard. Though their heights were surprisingly similar, the fabric stretched taut over his chest, arms, and thighs, threatening to rip with any abrupt movement.

“…Drink this too.”

I handed him some cider I’d miraculously found still intact in the dark storage room. Giving alcohol to a patient might seem absurd, but I thought letting him have a sip couldn’t hurt. The memory of a warm evening shared with the Kimber couple came to mind.

“I’ll fetch a cup.”

“…”

While I rummaged for an unbroken cup, I heard the sound of a cork popping.

“Wait…!”

I turned around to find him already kissing the cider bottle’s mouth. His Adam’s apple bobbed incessantly as he gulped it down. He drained the strong liquor in one go and licked his lips.

“If your wound worsens, don’t blame me.”

“Nexiard.”

Before burying his face in the potato porridge, he suddenly muttered his name.

“…?”

He jabbed his finger at his chest and repeated himself.

“Nexiard.”

“Oh… I’m Myrda.”

Unlike me, who knew him inside and out from the original novel, Nexiard didn’t know a thing about me.

‘I didn’t think that far ahead…’

Should I tell him more about myself? But what? Just as I started to ponder, Nexiard widened his eyes and asked bluntly.

“Is there more?”

“…?”

“That.”

He pointed at the empty cider bottle rolling on the floor, looking as if a demon’s spawn had emerged straight from hell.

Nexiard’s recovery was complete. His body was fully healed, making the time he spent on that cramped bed, hovering between life and death, feel like a distant memory. After stuffing himself with everything edible except the table legs, he declared his intention to head to Teppen, the capital.

“It seems we’re headed in the same direction.”

“…”

“Let’s travel together.”

I shamelessly proposed traveling as companions. I thought he might refuse, but to my surprise, Nexiard extended his hand without hesitation. It was rough, with prominent knuckles. Pretending to be wary, I grasped it, and he curtly responded.

“Deal.”

The fox fur scarf carried a musty scent from being buried in a wardrobe. Mrs. Kimber had wrapped it around me before. I gave the scarf a firm shake and carefully tied it snugly around Nexiard’s neck. Finally, I placed the ash-gray fur hat Mr. Kimber used to wear on hunting trips over his head. No icy wind would dare touch even a single hair on him now.

“Let’s head out.”

“Denied.”

“Excuse me?”

Nexiard removed the fur hat, shook it in the air just as I had done, and then placed it firmly back on his head.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, tugging the hat down until it completely covered his eyebrows, leaving his field of vision uncomfortably narrow.

What happened next was unexpected. Nexiard turned his back to me, knelt down, and offered his shoulders.

“…”

“I can walk.”

“You’re too slow.”

I couldn’t argue with that. If only we had a horse… but there were no other creatures in the cabin besides us. Resigned, I climbed onto his back. His broad shoulders carried the rhythmic thumping of his heartbeat, steady like a melody.

“Let’s go.”

He said, sounding like a carnival ride operator double-checking the safety harness before starting. His firm arms supported me, and with a push off the ground, he took off.

I closed my eyes and felt the rush of the wind—its texture, its scent, its sound. Somewhere, a mountain bird barked like a dog. The smell of rotting leaves beneath thick snow and the stench of mud-coated rope struck my face like a whip. Startled, I snapped my eyes open, only to close them again as the scenery shifted too quickly to follow.

Thud, thud, thud.

The faster Nexiard ran, slicing through the forest, the louder his heartbeat grew. His body radiated heat, like clutching a burning coal, while the muscles beneath his skin contracted and released with explosive power.

I suddenly understood why he mentioned frostbite—good grief, it was freezing. Clinging tightly to his sturdy back, I started organizing my thoughts about the tasks ahead. Slowly, the cold faded into the background.

❖　❖　❖

A plump horse, a skinny horse, and a horse with a mane the color of straw—like my own hair—stood in the stable, their thick tails swishing to scatter the rank smell.

After silently observing the animals, Nexiard pointed to a speckled one. Not the largest, but its sharp eyes seemed to understand human words, and its breath puffed out with vigor.

I spoke up instead.

“We’ll take this one.”

“You’ve got a good eye! Have you raised horses before?”

The stable keeper asked as he rubbed the speckled horse’s nose affectionately. But Nexiard, as if his job was done, turned on his heel and left without another word. Embarrassed, I handed the keeper two silver coins.

“Can we pick it up tomorrow morning?”

“Sure, just tell the old geezer here then. He’s so old he might keel over any second, but he’ll manage.”

The stable keeper soon returned with a marker: a wooden token carved with a number.

When I turned the corner of the building, Nexiard was already standing under the eaves, as still as a stone statue.

“Now we just need to buy a fur hat and gloves before heading back.”

“…”

Nexiard communicated more through action than words. His eyes scanned the busy streets until he seemed to find his target, then strode forward with wide steps. I trailed behind, organizing the leftover coins in my hands.

This was the village Mrs. Kimber and I had last visited together. Back then, it had seemed lively. Now, though people still bustled around, the atmosphere felt oddly tense and somber.

Nexiard navigated through the tightly packed market stalls with ease. Maybe it was his intimidating presence—no one wanted to bump into him, even by accident. Wherever he walked, the crowd parted, creating a path.

We stopped at a stall selling thick wool scarves and gloves. Without hesitation, I picked up a pair of gloves the color of Nexiard’s eyes. They were soft, almost like angora wool.

“How about these?”

“…”

“Excuse me, can we try them on?”

The vendor, who had been chatting with the neighboring stall owner, turned to look at me.

“Are these for you, miss?”

“No, for him.”

I replied, gesturing at Nexiard.

“Then those won’t fit.”

The vendor plunged his arm into the glove pile and pulled out a plain black pair.

“These should do.”

“Don’t you have other colors?”

“What’s a man need fancy colors for?”

He grumbled, but still rummaged through the pile. As he pulled out a pair in a cherry bark hue, Nexiard suddenly reached out and snatched something.

“Whoa, careful there!”

Clutched in his hand, rather urgently, was a deep red scarf. The vendor chuckled knowingly.

“Looks like spring’s come early this year.”

The merchant’s assumption was obvious, and I felt my head instinctively lower in embarrassment. It was surprising enough that Nexiard had revealed a preference for something, but… I was too flustered to react and muttered as if in a daze.

“Do you like that color? But what about the fox fur scarf—oh.”

Without a word, Nexiard shook his head and began wrapping the scarf around my neck. It wasn’t particularly graceful, but the scarf was soft and warm. It even seemed to carry a faint orange scent.

“It suits her! Take that one. It’s mixed with wool, so it’ll keep you really warm!” the merchant exclaimed.

We were only supposed to be buying gloves for Nexiard, yet somehow things had escalated. As I hesitated, he boldly slipped his hand inside my worn robe and pulled out my shabby coin pouch. The merchant, accepting the payment, rambled with a bemused expression.

“Well, sure, when you’re a couple, it’s all shared money anyway, isn’t it?”

“We’re not—”

“Oh! You’re the young lady from before!”

Before I could clarify, the owner of the neighboring stall butted in, recognizing me. He scrutinized me with hawk-like eyes and clapped his hands in excitement.

“Yes, yes! It’s been about ten days, hasn’t it? You came with Mrs. Kimber to buy a blanket!”

“Ah…”

Mrs. Kimber. A blanket. The hazy memory sharpened into focus.

“She’s not with you today?”

The shopkeeper glanced around, as if expecting her to appear. Should I tell him the truth? That he’d never see Mrs. Kimber again because…

“Oh, and this gentleman is new. What’s the relationship between you two?”

His questions piled up, leaving me no room to escape. I could have come up with a plausible story on the way here. Uneasy, I glanced up at Nexiard, hoping for help. He was already staring directly at me.

‘Oh, goodness…’

Surely, he was just as uncomfortable with this misunderstanding.

“Distant cousin…” I started.

“Husband.”

Nexiard interrupted, stepping forward. His sturdy arm wrapped firmly around my waist. As if insisting I play along, he repeated with emphasis.

“Husband.”

“…a distant cousin introduced us. He’s my husband,” I finished awkwardly.

“You’re married? Wait, then you’re not a young lady anymore!”

The merchant scratched the back of his head, sounding almost disappointed, then added with a sigh.

“Well, it makes sense! Someone this pretty not having a partner would be the real surprise!”

“Th-thank you.”

“While you’re here, why not splurge on a high-quality blanket? It’s as light as a feather, and just lying under it will warm you right up. Not that you two wouldn’t already be heating up the room just being together…”

Nexiard didn’t bother to listen to the rest. Without hesitation, he turned on his heel and nudged me gently on the back, leaning in close to whisper.

“Let’s go, lady.”