Chapter 29
“The man had brown hair and purple eyes, and he looked like a knight. It’s said he killed five villagers in an instant who tried to stop them from leaving and then escaped.”
“One of the knights who went after them was also found dead. There were traces of sword energy…”
At first, when he learned that they had escaped from Duke Luthern’s mansion, he was furious. But soon, he spread his tracking network in all directions and sent knights to search. Posters were put up everywhere. Naturally, he expected to catch them soon.
They said the sewer from which they escaped was cut with sword energy, and the corpse of that man was not among those found—he had guessed all along that the bastard had taken her.
But hearing the report, his anger consumed him as if his head were melting.
That insignificant bastard dared to steal my woman.
The thought that they were together—just the two of them together—made his chest burn, making it hard to breathe.
The thought that the bastard dared to hold her hand, to be by her side, maybe even to lay his filthy hands on my woman—it made his eyes reel.
But he had to calm himself.
It’s alright. I’ll get her back soon. Soon, she will be back in my arms, back in my mansion.
And that bastard… I’ll kill him in the most brutal way imaginable.
Arlene was hiding.
How many times had this repeated?
After being traced in the last village, the search perimeter seemed to have closed in from this side, and ever since, they had to keep hiding and running from knights and soldiers.
When it became impossible to evade, Agen would hide her in the bushes and run out alone with his sword.
Hiding alone was utterly despairing.
All she could do was remain completely still, not make a sound, not give the slightest movement.
She would sit silently and listen to the sound of swords clashing and someone screaming in death in the distance.
She no longer had the luxury to feel anything about someone dying right there in front of her. She just prayed desperately that it wasn’t Agen who was dying over there.
Shivering, praying again and again, she let time pass.
Until he returned and called out, “My lady,” all she could do was crouch and hide in anxious silence—powerless.
When she heard the rustling of someone approaching, Arlene held her breath and looked toward the sound.
She couldn’t see who it was because of the dense bushes.
But someone was breathing heavily, pushing through the undergrowth without hesitation.
“My lady?”
When a familiar voice reached her ears, Arlene’s tension melted. She exhaled the breath she had been holding and stood up.
“I’m here.”
Her reply brought a sigh of relief from the other side.
But it was too early to relax. Arlene quietly approached the voice, moving closer until she could see him.
Finally, when Agen came into view, before she could smile in joy, she carefully scanned him from head to toe.
She counted his new wounds, gauged their severity, and nearly burst into tears, but she held back.
“Your side looks badly hurt…”
“It was just a scratch.”
“A scratch, you say…”
“Since my skills aren’t perfect yet, I get scratched often.”
Agen replied with a light laugh, and she suppressed her urge to cry, approaching him as calmly as she could.
It couldn’t have been just a scratch. These were sword wounds. Normally, they would require proper disinfection, stitching, medication, and rest. Even on a battlefield, a wounded knight would receive proper treatment and at least some hours of rest afterward.
The bandages made from torn shawls were nearly used up. Even if that were a minor concern, hygiene was another worry. Some of his wounds were visibly red and swollen, and he had a slight fever. Without proper disinfection and using only makeshift bandages to stop bleeding, it was surprising there was no infection yet.
Arlene swallowed her choking emotion and carefully applied the makeshift bandages.
“…If we go a little further, we’ll reach Nilo’s house.”
They were heading to the herbalist’s house Arlene knew. After she had helped Agen enter the orphanage, he had grown up working in a large hospital in Shuel, and now he lived alone in a remote mountain village to study herbs.
Recently, Arlene had remembered that the herbalist’s place was near the border road from where they were.
Now that it was impossible to escape without help, the number of people they could turn to was very limited, so she decided to ask for some aid.
A little medicine. A little treatment. Just that… please, just that much.
Even such a small goal, such a fragile hope, was enough. Without it, they couldn’t keep moving.
“Can you move?”
“Yes.”
Agen stood, but a frown creased his brow as he rose.
Still, they couldn’t rest. The longer they delayed, the more exhausting it would be for Agen as pursuers closed in.
His condition worsened by the hour.
He tried not to show it, but he could feel his body deteriorating. Even though his body as a knight was formidable, there would soon be more pursuers, and eventually high-level knights skilled in sword energy would arrive. They wouldn’t be so easy to handle.
Most importantly:
‘Kashien is surely coming himself…’
Who knew what he was planning better than himself? Kashien was definitely coming here to capture her.
Even at his best, Agen had little chance against him. In this state, he couldn’t hope to face him. They needed to cross the border before being caught. But how many more soldiers and knights could he handle along the way?
Night fell completely.
Before it became too dark to walk, they found a place to rest. They gathered branches and leaves to make a small shelter and laid out clothes on the leaves to sleep on.
Leaving traces was risky, but they couldn’t leave her to sleep directly on the cold ground.
It wasn’t a matter of comfort—it was survival. Her body, already strained beyond limits, needed some relief from the harsh environment.
He laid her inside and curled up close to her. To maintain body heat, she pressed against him. Though difficult at first, by the third night, they were somewhat accustomed.
No, they weren’t accustomed. Feeling her breath on his neck, he held it, inhaling deeply. Her scent was intoxicating, like a narcotic that erased all pain. Not a painkiller—a stimulant.
He could almost hear his heart beating in her presence.
The dreamlike, blissful moment of holding her again replayed vividly in his mind.
He took a deep breath.
She, sleeping peacefully in his arms, felt unreal. Her warmth, her weight… he carefully wrapped his trembling hands around her back, as if touching her might burst her like a bubble.
She murmured softly with her eyes closed:
“…Agen,”
“Yes, my lady.”
She swallowed the words of apology that almost escaped. Agen wouldn’t want to hear her say she was sorry…
“…Thank you.”
The words hit him like a cold splash to the head. His throat tightened; his chest ached as if someone had crushed his heart.
You don’t know the truth. That you’re here, shivering under branches, unable to properly block the dew, it’s all because of me.
That the family you loved so much was ruthlessly slaughtered…
“…I… I’m only doing what I should.”
He held her closer. She clutched him tightly in return.
The warmth, the thrill of her embracing him, made his heart race, but he also felt an overwhelming self-loathing, wishing he could tear out his own heart.
He slowly brushed her back with trembling hands. A pretense, done only to soothe himself.
Exhausted, she gradually breathed evenly, sleeping peacefully.
He wanted to forget everything.
Quietly, he raised a hand to her face, stroking her tired features and the dark circles under her eyes. She didn’t move; she was comfortably asleep.
He pressed his lips to her forehead.
To her tired eyelids and rough cheeks, he kissed, then pressed his nose into her hair, closing his eyes.
Should I feel happiness in this moment… or despair?
Why didn’t I realize anything before I ruined everything…?
Morning came, and Agen woke, feeling his body much heavier.
Had the infection worsened?
They were fleeing from the kingdom’s strongest knight, and both were injured. The situation was so desperate it made him laugh bitterly.
She was still sleeping soundly in his arms.
For a moment, he gazed at her, mesmerized. She was so beautiful and lovely, he could just watch her forever.
But they had to move.
Even though the sleeping spot was uncomfortable, he didn’t want to wake her.
“…My lady.”
“Mm…”
“Arlene, you need to get up.”
He sighed. When at the duke’s mansion, he would always urge her to sleep more, rest more. But now, he had to wake her.
She struggled to open her eyes. Her exhausted gaze flickered in the empty air before meeting his eyes, and she gave a soft smile.
“Good morning, Agen.”
Her pale face smiled as brightly as she could, making his chest ache. But knowing why she forced a smile, he returned her greeting calmly.
“Good morning, my lady.”
She began rising, wincing at the stiffness of sleeping on the hard ground. Agen stood first, supporting her.
He quickly tidied the area. Completely erasing traces was impossible, so he merely disrupted the shelter enough that it wouldn’t be noticeable from a distance.
Watching her gather their belongings in the now-familiar morning routine, Agen made up his mind and called her.
“My lady,”
She turned to him, her eyes full of trust, waiting.
“Take this with you.”
