A cool scent, like herbs or fresh dew, hung in the air. A chill filled Ashika’s lungs, seeping into her outstretched hands.
‘Cold.’
She pulled her hands closer, shivering, but something about their rough, dirt-stained condition made her hold them out again.
‘What’s wrong with my hands?’
Her fingertips were stained green, an unfamiliar sight. Tiny cuts marred her usually soft, white knuckles.
‘…Is this…grass stain? On my hands?’
Beyond her fingertips, she saw a profusion of green leaves on the ground.
The cold seeped into her legs and buttocks where she sat—in the middle of a patch of unidentified weeds.
‘Strange.’
A feeling both familiar and alien washed over her.
Her gaze, lifted from the weeds, traveled to the edge of the forest and beyond, to the sky. Heavy, ash-grey clouds hung ominously, threatening to descend.
Thud. Plip.
Cold droplets on her cheek jolted her back to reality.
“Oh, what am I doing?”
Judging by the sky, this wasn’t a passing shower. Ashika brushed the dirt from her hands and pushed herself up.
But before she could fully stand, she tumbled forward.
“Ugh!”
A searing pain ripped through her back, making her vision flash with sparks. Her body stiffened, trembling violently.
‘It hurts, it hurts so much…’
Lost in thought, she’d forgotten her condition. Her careless movement had stirred a forgotten wound, trapping her.
“Ugh… Ouch.”
Unable to stand or sit, Ashika lay prostrate in the weeds, waiting for the pain to subside.
Plip, thud. Whoosh…
Within moments, the heavy raindrops escalated into a downpour. The cold relentlessly battered her back. Her thin dress quickly became soaked.
“Hoo… Ha…”
Gasping for breath, Ashika managed to raise her upper body. Her legs were still weak from the pain.
Despite this, she knew she had to get up. She braced her hands on the ground, pushing herself up.
Then,
“Ashika, stay there.”
A voice cut through the storm, coming from behind. She had no time to identify the speaker. A large hand had already reached her, gently supporting her under the knees and lifting her.
“Drushia.”
Ashika gasped, looking up at her rescuer.
His bright blonde hair, as radiant as sunlight, clung to his forehead and face, wet from the rain, accentuating his sharp features.
“I told you to rest today, why did you come out?”
His reprimand was laced with concern. Drushia hurried forward, shielding her as much as possible from the rain by leaning over her.
“Even resting is hard.”
“Is that supposed to be an excuse?”
“Don’t treat me like an invalid.”
Drushia frowned at Ashika’s retort.
Though she spoke casually, her small frame trembled slightly in his arms. Seeing her endure the pain, Drushia stopped his scolding.
“Your wounds have healed, haven’t they? It’s just that moving is difficult.”
Ashika insisted she was fine, but Drushia’s stern expression remained unchanged.
They reached a small wooden building in a secluded spot, far from any houses, hidden deep within the forest, far from the village.
As soon as they entered, Drushia seated Ashika and quickly lit a fire in the fireplace. He then fetched a towel and gently wiped her rain-soaked hair and face.
“Give me the towel.”
“You can’t steal my job.”
Drushia pushed away her hand, which reached for the towel, and gently patted her wet black hair.
Her pale face, contrasted by her dark eyes and hair, made her seem even whiter.
Even with the best medicine and care, Ashika’s pale complexion didn’t improve.
“Drushia?”
Ashika pushed the towel away, meeting his worried, deep blue eyes.
Their eyes met, and Drushia instinctively smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He swallowed his worry, his large hand gently stroking her hair before moving away.
“Oh dear, the living room will be flooded.”
Muttering to himself, Drushia lifted the hem of his shirt, which was dripping wet. The clinging fabric peeled away from his skin like a discarded shell, revealing well-defined broad shoulders, chest, and taut muscles. Despite living mostly outdoors, his skin remained remarkably pale.
The difference now was the numerous large and small scars across his body.
One particularly noticeable scar, a reddish mark, ran from his shoulder, across his chest, and down to below his hip bone.
Ashika stared at him, her eyes wide, towel in hand, as if seeing him for the first time.
Drushia’s lips curved into a smile as he noticed her expression.
“I haven’t even washed yet.”
Drushia threw off his shirt and strode towards Ashika. His actions were devoid of formality, yet his inherent elegance was undeniable. He was that kind of man.
“Why are your eyes so intense?”
“…This.”
“A military insignia? Why?”
Ashika remained dazed, ignoring his question.
Her hand reached towards him, then paused mid-air. A mark, running from his side to below his hip bone, was hidden beneath his trousers.
‘How far does that mark extend?’
Thump, thump. Her heart pounded. A strangely familiar yet unfamiliar feeling.
Drushia tilted his head, then reached out.
His large hand grasped hers, guiding it towards his taut abdomen. Ashika couldn’t pull away, following his lead.
His warm skin contrasted with her cold fingertips. She felt his sweat-dampened skin, the prominent hip bone, and firm muscles beneath his trousers.
Drushia held her hand with one hand and loosened his trousers with the other.
“Haa… a little lower…”
Guided by his hand, Ashika’s fingers moved lower, exploring the area beneath his trousers.
Her fingers encountered his damp skin and rough texture.
Ashika’s mouth fell open at the strange sensation. Just as the faintly visible p*bic hair, the same color as her hair, was about to come into full view, the loosened top of his shirt slipped down, revealing something unexpected.
“Gasp”
Startled, Ashika recoiled. Drushia, who had been holding his breath, burst out laughing.
“What’s wrong with you today? Are you trying to kill me with your stare?”
Fastening his shirt, Drushia released her startled hand.
Ashika turned her head, trying to hide her flushed face. Embarrassed, she couldn’t bring herself to look up. A wave of heat rose in her chest; she felt overwhelmingly shy.
Watching her, the corners of Drushia’s lips curled upward. A hint of regret lingered in his deepened blue eyes.
“Stay here until I prepare the bathwater.”
His priority was Ashika’s discomfort. Drushia forced himself to leave, though reluctantly. Even after he disappeared from view, Ashika’s heart continued to race.
‘What? Why am I suddenly like this?’
Ashika pressed a hand to her wildly beating chest, letting out a long breath.
Even after she managed to bathe and eat dinner, the rain showed no sign of letting up. In fact, it intensified, battering the small wooden building.
Sitting before the crackling fireplace, Ashika recalled a conversation from earlier that day. A herbalist from the village had visited their secluded dwelling.
“I heard the newly crowned Emperor is searching for survivors.”
Drushia, who had been adding wood to the fire, paused.
“I know.”
Of course, if the news had reached Ashika, Drushia would have known long ago. His reply was calm, but Ashika sensed the underlying distrust.
Clutching her warm cup, she hesitated before speaking again.
“…He’s publicly declared his intention to restore the annihilated families.”
Even as she spoke, Ashika cautiously observed Drushia’s face.
The firelight flickered across his hardened expression. His usually warm eyes were now cold, avoiding her gaze.
“What about going back?”
“No. Let’s wait a little longer.”
Drushia flatly rejected Ashika’s suggestion.
A change in regime didn’t guarantee the disappearance of threats. Ashika knew this, but a lingering sense of guilt weighed heavily on her heart.
Her legs, still stiff from her injuries, refused to obey her. Drushia, burdened with caring for her, couldn’t travel farther or regain his freedom.
‘If we returned to the capital, Drushia could at least try to rebuild his life.’
Drushia took the empty cup from her hand, speaking in a casual tone.
“Stop thinking such nonsense.”
His rigid expression softened as he looked at Ashika. When she didn’t look up, a warm hand caressed her cheek.
“Ashika.”
“Mmm…”
“I won’t risk any adventures while you’re here.”
His tone was unwavering, resolute. His bright blue eyes were intensely powerful, almost impossible to meet. Hidden within them were unshed anger and fear.
She knew what memory flickered within that fear: the night she was covered in blood, dying in his arms, as he desperately fled.
Even while abandoning everything, Drushia hadn’t given up on Ashika. He couldn’t.
Understanding the desperation he had felt, Ashika nodded gently.
“I’m happy now.”
Her delicate fingers gently covered his hand on her cheek. A smile bloomed on Ashika’s face, and Drushia finally smiled back.
But suddenly, his body stiffened.
“Drushia, what?”
Instead of answering, Drushia turned his head towards the window. He listened intently, but the torrential rain continued to roar through the house. Yet, his attention remained fixed on the outside. After a moment,
Creak.
“A bird? In this downpour?”
Ashika, too, looked puzzled. Drushia’s face hardened as he reached for the sword beside the fireplace.
“Ashika, come here…”
Before he could finish, disaster struck, just like that night.
Crash. Rumble.
“No!”
A blinding flash of lightning illuminated the room, followed by a deafening clap of thunder. The sound of the door splintering was lost in the chaos.
Drushia instantly grabbed Ashika’s waist, shielding her behind him as a sharp metallic clang echoed.
Clang!
In a dizzying instant, fierce wind and rain poured in through the shattered door and window, along with shadowy figures in black—assassins.
The storm extinguished the lamp, leaving only the flickering firelight from the hearth.
Slash, Crash.
The clash of steel, sparks flying, a broad back blocking her view, and the relentless onslaught of black-clad figures wielding swords.
It was all a nightmare. A nightmare clinging to her retinas, never to fade.
“Ashika, run!”
