Chapter 42
On My Side
Killian Serenade sank into the lake without even struggling, his body slipping further down like a stone.
The surface rippled with small bubbles, swelling and collapsing. Daphne’s injured leg throbbed, a reminder of her tension.
“His leg…”
And then she remembered—Killian couldn’t use his legs.
Standing on the bank where her godfather had fallen in, Daphne stared at the dark water, unmoving.
“A man who has never once been on my side.”
The biting winter wind numbed her ears and cheeks, making them sting.
“A man who’s done nothing to help me. He was bound to die someday anyway. Maybe it’d be better if he died now, left me this land, and disappeared.”
Daphne exhaled the breath she had been holding, a puff of white mist obscuring her vision.
“Even if I save you here, you’ll just…”
But contrary to her bitter thoughts, her body moved before her mind could object. She sprang into action, plunging into the frigid water.
“Damn it!”
Her right ankle stiffened, the freezing cold seizing it like a vice. The pain of a cramp radiated through her leg, but Daphne pressed on, swimming blindly in the dark waters. She reached out until her hand caught Killian’s scarf.
As soon as she felt his arm, she summoned every ounce of strength she had left, kicking to the surface and dragging his heavy, lifeless body onto the bank.
“Killian.”
Her injured leg throbbed violently, feeling as though her heart had sunk into it. The rest of her body was so cold that it was beyond sensation. She couldn’t even see her breath anymore.
Daphne’s golden eyes darted around, unfocused and frantic.
“Godfather.”
Her body trembled violently. Perhaps it was because she had fallen in with him, but she felt no warmth from his cheeks, lips, or neck.
Fear gripped her.
“What if, in those seconds I hesitated… you…”
“Killian!”
The line between life and death was paper-thin.
That fragile boundary could be torn apart so easily.
Daphne thought of the moment when she had been struck by a carriage. In the brief time she was flung through the air, countless thoughts had rushed through her mind.
How absurd it felt to have fought so hard to be born, only to face such an unceremonious death.
Even as her entire body had gone numb, fear had surged upward, crawling from the tips of her toes to the very top of her head.
“Godfather, please… wake up.”
Her hoarse voice barely came out. She hesitated, unsure whether to remove his scarf, now frozen stiff, or leave it on.
While Daphne struggled to decide, Killian’s calloused hand shakily rose to stroke her hair.
By the time the commotion had drawn the lakekeeper, a carriage was called in haste.
Both Daphne and Killian made it back to the mansion safely.
Now, they sat side by side in front of a roaring fire, drying their frozen bodies while sipping tea.
It was a fragrance Daphne loved.
****
For three straight days, Killian lay bedridden, and he no longer snapped at Daphne.
That scared her more.
Each morning, she got up earlier than usual, cleaning Killian’s drowsy face, shaving him, and tending to the house.
Deep down, Daphne found herself waiting for his usual grumbling. But Killian remained indifferent, barely speaking a word to her.
“He refused to go for a walk.”
That wasn’t all. Now he outright declined the strolls he used to take. Instead, the nursemaids and the butler had taken over his care.
After finishing her daily chores, Daphne would retreat to her room, clutching her head in frustration and overthinking. Her school friends had long fallen to the wayside.
The lack of conversation between them only deepened her guilt, day by day.
“What if someone finds out I nearly killed him?”
If she had been a few seconds later, Killian Serenade would have died. And Daphne would have been the one who stood by and let it happen.
Considering she had practically been the one to push his wheelchair near the lake, it wouldn’t have been far from the truth to call her a murderer.
“Should I go back to Mother?”
Fearing that Killian might someday share what had happened, Daphne tried even harder to please him.
But her godfather remained silent.
It felt like a storm could strike at any moment, the calm before the chaos.
With each passing day, Daphne’s nerves frayed further, and she went about her tasks as though walking on a knife’s edge.
****
Killian had called Daphne out for the first time in a long while. Sitting across from him at the round table in the garden, Daphne noticed how much thinner his face had become. The sight filled her with guilt—it felt like her fault.
“Daphne.”
“Yes?”
Killian, uncharacteristically, hesitated.
“At Olden Lake…”
Here it comes! Daphne thought, her heart pounding so hard it felt like it might leap out of her chest.
“Please, don’t say it.”
The words she swallowed were: Don’t tell anyone I hesitated when it came to saving you.
“What shouldn’t I say?”
“Don’t tell anyone I… I mean, that you… back then…”
“Daphne.”
“I made a mistake. It’s my fault.”
“What mistake are you talking about?”
“I… well…”
Killian’s gray eyes, like a misty lake, bore into her. Then his brow furrowed, and Daphne, cowed by his gaze, opened and closed her mouth like a fish.
“What am I supposed to say?”
Should I admit that, for a moment, I wanted you dead? That in the end, you didn’t die, so it doesn’t matter?
Or that I was the one who pushed your wheelchair near the lake, so I might as well have been the one to kill you?
Don’t tell Romeo. Don’t tell my mother. Don’t tell the girls at school or the university dean. Don’t even tell the man I’ll love one day.
But she couldn’t say any of it. For someone raised in noble society, such thoughts were unbearably shameful.
More than that, Daphne couldn’t bear the thought of her godfather looking at her with disgust.
“Are you telling me not to mention that you saved me?”
Daphne’s head snapped up, startled by his unexpected response.
“You should be demanding a grand acknowledgment, asking me to say, ‘Because of what you’ve done for me, I owe you in kind.’ When did you become so humble?”
Killian’s wide eyes showed genuine surprise as he looked at her.
Her anxious thoughts began to recede, replaced by confusion. Daphne blinked repeatedly.
“You’re not angry with me?”
A flicker of disbelief crossed his gray eyes.
“I’m disobedient, reckless, act like a thug, and… I’ve even sworn in front of you…”
She glanced at him, trying to gauge his reaction.
“…and yelled at you.”
“You’ve suddenly gained self-awareness. What on earth did you eat over the past few days to grow up so fast?”
“You stopped going on walks with me. You even told me not to visit you anymore. Isn’t that because you can’t stand me?”
“Maybe it’s because you keep waking me up too early. It’s exhausting.”
Daphne had been so eager, rushing to him first thing in the morning, only to find the usually robust man groggily swaying, unable to keep his eyes open.
“I thought he was unwell, so I became even more anxious.”
Realizing her worries had been for nothing left Daphne feeling a wave of indignation crash over her.
“In winter, you sleep two hours longer, Daphne. The days are shorter, after all.”
“Right… the days are shorter.”
Daphne flushed with embarrassment. Even she would have been annoyed if someone barged in to wake her while she was still disheveled and half-asleep.
“It’s a wonder he didn’t scream.”
“Daphne.”
The sweet, slightly minty scent of mugwort tea lingered as Daphne paused mid-pour to look at him.
“What were you thinking when I fell into the lake?”
Her nerves tensed again, the fleeting calm gone.
“I didn’t think about anything. My body just moved.”
“Hmm. Thank you for saving me.”
Killian smiled warmly. For a brief moment, Daphne thought that if her godfather were ten years younger, he’d have been a dashing young man.
“In the future, keep giving that answer.”
“…What?”
“I won’t repeat myself.”
He reached for the teapot, pouring more tea into her cup. Its delicate fragrance suited the setting perfectly.
“Godfather, they say if you eat these tea leaves raw, a bear can turn into a human.”
Daphne paused, wondering where she’d heard such a strange story. Though she couldn’t recall, the memory was oddly vivid.
“That’s an interesting tale.”
Killian didn’t press her for its origins.
“If you keep drinking it daily, after 80 days, you might turn into a proper human yourself.”
“What?”
Daphne burst into laughter, unable to contain herself for several minutes.
“Even if you drank it for longer, Godfather, you’d never become human. Carnivores like you are too impatient to transform into people.”
“You’ve got a sharp tongue.”
Killian’s cane gently tapped the top of her head. Though it didn’t hurt, Daphne pretended it did, furrowing her brows theatrically.
****
Spring brought graduation, and Daphne found herself being called to the back of the school grounds by none other than Ranon Kelly. The same Ranon who had ignored her invitations to talk now suddenly claimed to have something important to say.
When Daphne came face to face with Ranon and her group, she felt suffocated. Her hands, growing cold, fidgeted incessantly.
“We hated how you acted like you were doing us a favor,” Janet, who stood beside Ranon, opened.
“So what?”
Daphne thought, but she stayed silent.
“You’ve never been… like us. You’ve never been a commoner, so you can’t possibly understand how much it hurt our pride when you ‘helped’ us like we were some kind of charity case!”
Daphne couldn’t relate to what they were saying. Her golden eyes blinked rapidly, trying to process their words.
“I see.”
Still, she had come to talk, so she tried to consider their perspective. But no matter how much she thought about it, she couldn’t understand.
If I have something good to share, and I share it, isn’t it good for everyone?
That had always been Daphne’s reasoning. She had never approached them to gain anything in return—she simply wanted to be good friends.
“But… why should I have been expected to know that?”
