"Aurelius… are you here?"
I moved closer to Luciene's bed. She looked better now, even sitting upright against the pillows. But her vocal cords still had not healed, perhaps they were even worse. Most likely, when the goblins attacked and she thought I had abandoned her, she had screamed and cried far more than I had assumed.
"Yes, I'm here," I said.
Luciene grabbed my arm. "Where did you go…?" Her expression resembled that of a small child, terrified that she might be left alone at any moment.
"I needed to earn some money…"
Of course, Luciene had no idea about the money I had taken from the goblins, and she only knew that the sum the Baroness had given would not be enough to cover the healer's fee. So she lowered her head in embarrassment and pulled the blanket up toward her face.
"I'm sorry… You ended up in trouble because of me. If I hadn't tried to follow you in the first place… none of this would have happened," she said. Then she turned back to me, her expression steadier than before. "I'll repay my debt to you."
As she said those words, I began to feel more and more like the devil himself. It was true that I had not brought her here, but in a way, I was responsible for her injuries. And financially, I had no problems at all. In fact, I had earned in a few days what Baroness Catherinne would make in an entire year.
I could not help but smile inwardly. I did not want to be a purely evil villain. I just planned to be someone who would not hesitate to kill hundreds of people in pursuit of his own interests. Still, at times, being purely evil did have its appeal.
"Don't talk like that, Luciene. You don't owe me anything. And I was the one responsible for you getting hurt. So don't dwell on it, all right?"
Luciene said nothing for several seconds. It was as if my words had struck her from a direction she had never expected. Her fingers tightened around my arm, as though she believed that if she let go, I would truly vanish, erased from the room itself.
When she lifted her head, her eyes were filled with tears. This was not simple gratitude. It was as though something she had been desperately holding back had finally cracked.
"Don't say it like that…" she whispered. Her voice was already hoarse, so the words nearly blended with her breath. She looked away, her lashes trembling. "You talk as if… as if none of this matters at all."
She lowered her head further. I noticed how tightly she was gripping the edge of the blanket. Her knuckles had turned white.
"I thought it would be different," she said. "I thought you would yell, or get angry. At least make me feel how sorry I am." Her throat tightened. "But when you talk like this… I feel even worse."
The first drop fell onto the blanket. Then another. Luciene clenched her teeth, trying to hold back her tears, but the effort only made it more obvious that she was losing control. Her shoulders began to tremble slightly.
"If you had blamed me…" she continued, unable to finish the sentence. She shook her head. "Then I could have endured it. I would have thought I deserved it. But you… you speak as if you're protecting me."
She looked at me with eyes full of tears. In that gaze there was not gratitude, but something far more dangerous. Not merely owing someone, but the need to cling to them.
"Please don't treat me like this," she said, almost pleading. "Otherwise…" Her lips trembled. "Otherwise I'm even more afraid of losing you."
In the end, she could not hold it back. She buried her face into the edge of the blanket and began to cry quietly. Her sobs were muffled, as though she wanted to apologize even for crying. She still had not let go of my arm. On the contrary, her fingers tightened further.
This was not mere gratitude. It was the shape of an unhealthy attachment to a savior. And I had started it. With my words, my gentle tone, my refusal to blame her.
Looking back now, I can't help but wonder if I went too far during those few days. She was no longer seeing me as a person, but as a fixed point. A refuge. I slowly placed my hand on her hair, as if comforting her. In truth, I was tightening the threads a little more.
"Rest," I said. "That's all you need to do right now."
Luciene closed her eyes, but her fingers still would not release my arm. As if, if she fell asleep and I left, she might never wake up again.
Well, I needed a warm bed too. Having lived in the modern world, a chair was hardly comfortable. So I set my sword aside, sat on the edge of the bed, and slowly lay down beside her. I was careful to leave enough distance between us, close enough not to frighten her, but not so close as to press against her.
When the mattress sank slightly under my weight, Luciene flinched. Her eyes opened for a brief moment, then she froze when she saw that I was still there. She seemed torn between fleeing and drawing closer. In the end, she chose not to flee. She leaned her shoulder slightly toward me.
"You're not going to leave… are you?" she whispered.
That question was a shackle wrapped in innocence. The kind that would echo in someone's mind for years if answered incorrectly.
"I'm here," I said simply.
The moment Luciene heard my answer, she did not hesitate.
As if those two words had melted the last resistance she had been holding onto.
She suddenly turned toward me. First she grabbed my arm, then, without hesitation, slid closer. She placed her injured but healed arm in a comfortable position against my leg. She wrapped her legs around my waist and buried her face against my chest. She clung to me like a koala. There was nothing shy or restrained about her grip. It was a primal move, driven by the fear of loss.
For a moment her breath caught, then it eased. I could feel her heartbeat against my chest. Small, fast, and filled with panic.
"Aurelius…" she said in a muffled voice. "When it's like this… I'm less afraid."
Her fingers slid across my back. Her nails lightly caught in the fabric, as if I were not an human, but something that could be torn away. She would not let me go. She could not.
This was not an innocent embrace.
It was a sealing gesture, made against the possibility of abandonment.
I said nothing. Anything I said would have been either too much or not enough. I did not want to disturb the balance she had built in her mind. I simply stayed there. I breathed. I did not run.
Luciene's body gradually relaxed, but her hold did not loosen. Her forehead rested against my chest. Her lips moved as she murmured something, the words indistinct, but the tone was clear. Like a prayer caught between gratitude and fear.
"Don't go…" she said in a very quiet voice. "Please."
That word clarified everything.
She was no longer someone who wanted me by her side.
She saw me as someone she must not lose.
I placed my hand on her back. Gently. It looked like a reassuring touch, not a possessive one. In truth, it was an approval that erased boundaries.
Luciene exhaled. A deep, long, relieved breath. Then her body grew heavy. Even as she slipped into sleep, she did not let go of me. On the contrary, as her consciousness faded, her instinct to cling only grew stronger.
In the modern world, they would call this unhealthy attachment.
For me, she's perfect for being a wonderful slave...
As I stared at the ceiling, a faint smile appeared on my lips.
I had not saved her.
But she had made me her savior.
And sometimes, people chose not what was true, but what they wanted to believe.
Luciene had made her choice.