Chapter 9

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter Title: Chapter 108

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"Sis."

"......!"

I woke up, feeling a hand gently shaking my body.

"Why are you sleeping on the sofa?"

What kind of dream was this?

......It had been three years since I'd last dreamed of Rose.

"Sis, are you okay?"

When I didn't respond, Yurta gently gripped my shoulder.

In that instant, all the emotions I'd felt from Rose in the dream came rushing in.

Revulsion, disgust—a nauseating tangle of feelings that made me want to vomit.

"Don't touch me."

"Sis, you look pale."

"......Let go of me."

I tried deep breaths to calm myself, but the emotions refused to be reined in.

They boiled over, dominating my mind like a storm.

"Sis, look at me."

"......Please, just back off right now."

"......Sis."

But Yurta wouldn't listen.

As he reached for my face with a look of concern, my emotions finally exploded.

"I said don't touch me!"

Those weren't my feelings—not really.

Slap!

His head snapped to the side.

Overwhelmed by the surge, I'd struck Yurta without thinking.

"......Sis."

His sharp red eyes turned back to me, and my body trembled involuntarily.

<If you want to leave so badly, then go ahead, Sis.>

Yurta's red eyes overlapped with the chilling gaze I'd seen in Rose's dream.

A low sigh came from above as I braced for the pain to come.

"Sis, if something's bothering you, just tell me."

Against all expectations, he showed no anger even after I'd slapped him.

"......You're not going to hit me back?"

"Why would I ever hit you, Sis?"

Yurta furrowed his brow, as if the idea baffled him.

"......But you used to torment me before."

Not me, exactly—Rose.

Yurta's face hardened.

"......Are you still holding onto that time?"

"If someone treated you like that, could you just forget?"

Unlike before, Yurta's expression darkened.

Was he actually feeling guilty?

"......I promised I'd never do it again."

"......"

"You believed me, and I never have since......"

Had Rose made that promise with him?

I had no idea what kind of life those two had shared.

But talking to him like this was calming the unruly emotions, bit by bit.

'He wronged Rose, not me.'

Did I even have a reason to be mad?

Yurta was still a shady figure, so I'd keep my distance—but there was no need to lash out over the past.

'Besides, I decided to play along until we pass the checkpoint.'

Reason returning, my mind cleared as I thought it through, bringing a sense of stability.

I raised both arms and wrapped them around Yurta's neck.

As I pulled him into a hug, his body stiffened.

"......Sis?"

His voice trembled as he called my name.

"Sorry for hitting you, Yurta."

I pulled back slightly and gently stroked his cheek.

"Does it hurt a lot?"

"......It doesn't hurt."

"Your face is red."

"......"

Even the spots I hadn't hit. Looking closer, his neck was a bit flushed too.

"I had a nightmare."

"......A nightmare?"

"Yeah. A dream from when we were kids."

"......"

"You hurt me in it."

His downcast black lashes seemed to carry regret for the past.

He really was feeling guilty, then.

Perfect.

I'd use whatever I could.

"......What do I have to do for you to forgive me?"

Three years ago, I'd sworn never to forgive him, yet Yurta had never given up.

'It's ridiculous for me—not even Rose—to talk about forgiveness.'

It was Rose who'd suffered. What right did I have to forgive on her behalf?

"Just stay by my side, Yurta."

His red eyes wavered, as if he never imagined Rose would say such a thing.

"Be with me."

"......Yes, Sis."

"Is the book any good?"

"Yeah. Not bad at all."

When I'd complained of boredom, Yurta had brought me a book.

I hadn't expected much—just something to kill time—but it turned out to be surprisingly enjoyable.

He said he'd picked it based on my tastes.

He'd put some thought into it.

But the 'tastes' he knew were Rose's......

'We have the same preferences.'

It wasn't that strange for tastes to overlap by chance.

I read on without a second thought.

"I thought you might want a snack, Sis, so I prepared some dessert."

Yurta set the dessert on the table.

It was smothered in chocolate—looked sickeningly sweet at a glance.

"It's your favorite, Sis."

Rose liked chocolate cake too, huh.

Just like me.

The cake melted smoothly in my mouth.

After devouring the dessert, I flopped back onto the sofa.

Crackle, crackle. The fireplace sounded so cozy.

It was peaceful.

I hated to admit it, but this confinement was starting to suit me more than I'd like.

Except......

"I want to go out."

"That's not allowed."

That was the real problem.

He acted like he'd grant my every wish, but his very presence here crushed my freedom.

"I just said that because it's stuffy."

Yurta looked relieved at my excuse.

He sat down beside me naturally. The sofa dipped under his weight.

"Being here with you like this feels nice, Sis."

"Yeah, I bet."

It was a quiet afternoon.

My body relaxed, even as my insides rotted away.

Yurta never left my side for a moment.

Calling me "Sis" over and over like a baby bird chirping for its mother—it was getting on my nerves.

Just as my patience for playing the doting sister was wearing thin—

"Lord Yurta! Knights from Evantes have launched an attack!"

A frantic voice shouted from outside.

Yurta, who had been cozied up to me on the sofa, frowned and stood.

"An attack?"

"Yes, sir. You need to come quickly."

"Evantes knights shouldn't be able to reach this far...... That's strange."

Even with the knight's urgency, Yurta muttered to himself instead of moving right away.

Then he turned to me with a troubled look.

"Go on. Sounds important."

"I'll be right back."

With those words, Yurta left the room.

Don't come back at all.

I grumbled inwardly as he departed.

I scanned the room idly.

Snow was falling outside before I knew it.

Normally I'd get up to look, but I lacked the energy now.

Was it because I'd escaped Rihart only to end up with Yurta? Or had my stamina finally hit its limit, leaving me exhausted?

Either way, I just wanted to lie there and rest.

There weren't any other options anyway.

'Yurta or Arjen.'

Like the difference between curry-flavored shit and shit-flavored curry.

Thud.

As I sprawled listlessly on the sofa, a sound came from somewhere.

I turned toward it—the window.

Had something made a noise over there? Or was it my imagination?

But my body was already off the sofa.

Instinctively, I grabbed the nearest thing that could serve as a weapon.

The cold glass vase felt solid in my hand—a decent improvised weapon.

I peered out the window again when—thud—the sound repeated.

Someone was out there.

But this was the fourth floor.

Worried I might try escaping through the window, Yurta had brought me here to the fourth floor.

Even so, fearing I might go mad and jump, he'd made sure the windows wouldn't open.

Thud. Another sound.

It seemed to come from the outer wall, but with no clue what it was, frustration built.

'Should I call for Yurta?'

I really didn't want to.

Reluctantly, I gripped the vase tightly and approached the window.

A chill seeped through the cracks, crawling up from my toes.

The bars on the window should keep me safe, I told myself—just as a hand shot out from below.

"......!"

I jumped back in shock.

Someone was out there after all. I opened my mouth to scream, but the hand grabbed the bars.

Then its owner poked his face through.

A hood obscured his features. Suspicious.

There should be knights outside—I needed to yell now......

That's when the man pulled back his hood.

Dark brown hair, red eyes. How could I forget that handsome face?

I snapped my mouth shut.

"......Dillon?"