Chapter 12

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter Title: Chapter 110

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There were so many things I wanted to ask Dillon.

I vividly remembered the conversations from three years ago that we hadn't been able to finish.

But the moment Dillon vomited blood, all those thoughts scattered into thin air.

I stared at him, everything forgotten.

He casually wiped the blood from his mouth as if it were nothing at all.

"...Are you hurt somewhere?"

He turned his head away, looking like it was hard to answer.

"Dillon."

"...It's paint."

I glared at him, urging him to spit it out, and Dillon reluctantly opened his mouth.

Are you seriously joking right now?

"Paint?"

"Yeah, paint."

Did he really think I'd buy such an obvious lie?

"Don't worry. Just head this way. We're almost there."

I was worried about his condition, but he was the one trying to reassure me.

I wasn't worried about that.

Strangely enough, I trusted him.

Even though our connection had only been a fleeting moment three years ago.

Because he'd saved me?

I'm not the type to trust others easily. No matter who they are, it takes countless steps up a long staircase to earn my trust.

In this world, the only person I considered trustworthy was Michel.

We'd endured hard times together and overcome several crises side by side.

When I felt lonely now and then, Michel was there for me, and when she felt lonely, I was there for her.

It was more than enough reason for us to trust each other.

Then what about Dillon?

It was so strange.

I couldn't for the life of me figure out why I felt that way.

Dillon plunged deeper into the forest, evading the pursuers.

His condition kept deteriorating.

Finally, he staggered badly and collapsed.

"Dillon!"

"...Hurk."

Dillon clutched at his chest in agony.

I hurriedly scanned our surroundings.

A place for Dillon to rest...

As I frantically searched, my eyes landed on one spot—an abandoned temple overgrown with dry vines.

The structure was half in ruins, its walls scarred with chips and cracks.

Dead grass, untended and wild, choked the area around it.

"Dillon, just hold on a little longer."

I dragged him inside the temple.

For now, we'd have to see how things stood here.

Why is Dillon suddenly like this?

Did he come to rescue me despite his illness?

"...So hot."

At that moment, Dillon clawed at his chest like he wanted to rip it open.

Rip—

Startled by the brutal sound of tearing fabric, I peered at him.

"...Hot, so hot."

"Dillon, have you lost your mind?"

"...So hot, I'm going insane, Rozhi."

Why was he suddenly acting like this?

He kept muttering about the heat and fumbling to strip off his clothes.

In my fluster, by the time his bare shoulder was exposed, I grabbed his arm.

"...Hot, Rozhi."

"It's the dead of winter, Dillon! Get a grip!"

"...Hot."

Dillon's red eyes grew faintly glazed. What the hell was wrong with him all of a sudden?

That was when it happened, amid our back-and-forth struggle.

I spotted the strange marking on his chest.

"...Rozhi?"

As I stared fixedly at his chest, Dillon seemed to snap to his senses belatedly and called my name in a puzzled tone.

He tried to hastily pull his clothes back together, but I seized his hand.

"Take off your shirt."

"Hey, what the—"

"Just do it!"

"N-No... Hey!"

Whether he urgently called out or not, I focused on peeling his clothes off.

After fabric brushed past my hands several times, his shirt was off, baring his upper body.

It was a beautifully sculpted, muscular frame.

But there was no time to admire it—I zeroed in on the marking etched across his chest.

"...Don't look."

Dillon tried to cover himself, his face flushed with embarrassment, but I pinned both his hands.

His hands trembled feebly in my grip.

"Rozhi, please..."

He pleaded desperately, but his words fell on deaf ears.

This marking—without a doubt...

I'd seen it in a book before. And not just that—I'd seen it on someone else with a similar pattern.

"Dillon, is this a curse?"

"..."

All the color drained from his face.

As if he desperately didn't want me to find out, he clamped his mouth shut.

[I've ruined it so you can't meet your sister.]

No way...

"Yurta did this to you."

"...It's not like that."

"It is. What curse did he put on you?"

"...You don't need to know. Better if you don't."

Dillon let out another pained groan.

[If you want to protect Dillon, it's best to stay as far away from him as possible.]

That was the "advice" Yurta had given me.

"Yurta told me to stay away from you. Is the curse tied to that?"

"...Cough, no."

Dillon denied it as he spat up more blood.

He clearly didn't want me knowing about this.

"Dillon, be honest. What kind of curse is it?"

"Cough..."

The blood gushing out was increasing. I stared at him in shock.

"Dillon...!"

At that instant, his body gave out completely.

More than a week had passed, but the search had made no progress.

The knights bowed their heads deeply, faces full of shame.

"Is she really dead?"

Burned to death? Just like that, so pointlessly?

I still couldn't believe it.

If only because she couldn't possibly have died so meaninglessly, Arjen had launched a massive manhunt.

The knights already seemed convinced Rozhi was dead and gone.

Arjen grew uncharacteristically anxious.

She wasn't allowed to die this easily.

He tapped the armrest of his chair restlessly.

"Marquis."

A knight approached him cautiously.

"We've received word that the Seyblin Baroness has hurriedly headed somewhere. What are your orders?"

Ever suspicious, Arjen had placed watchers on everyone even remotely connected to Rozhi, just in case.

The Seyblin Baroness is on the move.

Arjen, deep in thought, rose from his seat.

"Pursue her."

A pleased smile curled his lips.

"Without being spotted. Carefully."

It seemed like his pain flared up because he was with me.

His condition had plummeted right after we met, so I was obviously the cause.

As I debated leaving him behind, he grabbed my arm.

"...Rozhi, don't go."

"..."

"Don't abandon me."

He was awake, but still delirious, mumbling in a hazy voice.

"...Dillon, does it hurt when you're with me?"

At my words, a glint of clarity flickered in his eyes, as if he'd momentarily come to.

"...No. It's not that."

"But that's when the pain started."

While Dillon lay collapsed, I'd done a lot of agonizing.

If my hunch about the curse's trigger was right, staying apart was the way to go.

"Just tell me where Michel is. I'll take care of the rest."

"No. Don't go..."

For some reason, I didn't want to burden Dillon above all others.

Kept relying on his help—it filled me with aversion, separate from any gratitude.

Was this my feeling? Rozhi's? Or both?

I had no idea.

Being near Dillon muddled everything.

"...You think I'd let you go off alone?"

"What can you even do in that state?"

Our conversation looped endlessly, going nowhere.

I let out a sigh.

I coldly shook off his pitiful arm clinging to me.

His red eyes wavered.

That blood's not going anywhere.

Like Yurta, Dillon was stubbornly set in his ways.

In this case, for his own good, I had to cut ties coldly.

"Right now, you're useless and worthless. Got it? Why keep being such a pain?"

It wasn't easy being harsh to Dillon. But to make him give up, I had no choice.

I figured that would wound him enough to back off.

But...

"...Are you crying?"

His eyes rimmed red.

Was this really something to cry about?

Dillon's reddened eyes left me flustered.

"...Don't go, Rozhi."

When he said it like that, teary-eyed... what was I supposed to do?

I sighed.

His handsome face crumpling like that softened me up.

And for some odd reason, staying cold to Dillon wasn't easy.

Why?

I could be icy to Yurta or Rihart without batting an eye, but Dillon was different.

"Footprints found over here!"

Someone...!

My body went rigid at the sudden shout.

"Calm down, Rozhi."

Marquis Evantes' knights? Or Yurta's?

My heart hammered like mad.

So tense, I didn't even realize Dillon had scooped me up.

"It's toward the temple!"

Was this how we'd get caught?

Should I have just ditched Dillon and run?

I looked up at him.

With me here, he couldn't fight. Because of the curse Yurta had carved into him.

"Listen carefully, Rozhi."

His red eyes gleamed sharply then.

"No one's on the back path."

"..."

"I'll hold them off here. You slip out alone the back way. There's a side trail right nearby—follow it straight, and the Seyblin Baroness waiting for you will be there."

"..."

"Got it?"

Part of me wanted to refuse, to say I'd stay with him. But reason pulled me the other way.

Separating from Dillon was the best option anyway.

"Take this."

Dillon handed me a black robe. To conceal myself with it, I supposed.

"Hurry and go."

Dillon released me.

That moment three years ago flashed back—when he'd protected me.

And whether as payment or not, you'd ended up with that curse.

Why try to save me still?

Questions swirled, but my legs were already moving as he'd instructed.

I bolted straight out the temple's rear.

Debris and piled snow tumbled from the arched doorway, but I barely registered it.

Not long after dashing down the back path, the side trail Dillon mentioned appeared.

He was dead serious about helping me.

Once more, the nagging thought that I wasn't Rozhi trailed me—but I ignored it and kept running.

Thorns stabbed my bare feet; frigid snow bit into my skin. It hurt.

Blinding white flurries whipped through, obscuring my view.

"Ack!"

In the end, my foot snagged a thick tree root, and I tumbled down.

Tears pricked my eyes from the pain, but I had no time for that.

As I forced my protesting body to rise—

A hand clad in pristine white gloves thrust into my view.

"Oh dear."

I knew that voice.

Frozen stiff, unable even to stand, I just stared at the ground.

Was this the feeling of plummeting off a cliff?

Deep despair crashed over me.

After all that effort to escape, and now this...

"You're hurt. That must pain you."

As Rihart pulled me into his arms, I lacked the strength to resist.

Back to Rihart in the end?

I let out a hollow laugh—

Rustle.

Grass parting, followed by the crunch of footsteps crushing snow.

It wasn't from Rihart's direction.

I whipped my head toward the sound.

And locked eyes with red ones blazing with rage.

"If you value that hand, let go right now."

It was Yurta.