Swan stood frozen in the doorway, her arms full of ointments and bandages, her face pale as she took in the scene. Atlion met her horrified gaze with a cold, emotionless expression. Then, as if to make his point, he gave Tom a sharp kick in the face.

“Ugh!”

The man clutched his shattered hand, panting heavily as he rolled to the ground. A fragment of a tooth flew out from his bloodied lips, probably from a broken front tooth. Swan, frozen in shock with bandages and ointment in her arms, snapped out of it and rushed towards him.

“Uncle!”

“Ack, ack! M-my hand!”

“Y-your hand, what happened…?”

The man, shaking and writhing in pain, raised his injured hand and collapsed into Swan’s arms. A wave of disgust washed over Atlion for reasons he couldn’t quite understand. Whether the man was her guardian or foster father, the sight of him touching a woman Atlion had once held struck a nerve.

Atlion frowned and bit his lip as he watched the man gasp for breath. Watching Swan struggle to support the injured man, Atlion finally turned and left the cabin.

—

Every look Swan met was either lukewarm or cold. The words spoken to her and the touches she received carried a sense of hesitation. Yet she couldn’t help but place her hopes where she knew they shouldn’t be. No matter how hard she tried to suppress it, her chest would swell with anticipation. What was this feeling of love? Why did it have the power to stir her heart so mercilessly? She couldn’t understand.

Having barely managed to treat Tom’s crushed hand and send him back to the village, the man remained silent. He had never been one to initiate conversation, but from that point on he openly avoided meeting Swan’s eyes.

He seemed to believe that the armour had been sold without his consent. It was a natural assumption under the circumstances. Even though the armour was scorched and its coating was peeling, it was still a rare and valuable artefact. A noble knight, regardless of rank, held a status far above that of a commoner, and his possessions were of considerable value.

Whether melted down to erase the insignia or repainted, the value of the armour would remain the same. It wasn’t unreasonable to suspect that Swan and Tom had colluded to sell it. The thought made her heart sink. Every time she imagined him thinking she had betrayed him, she felt helpless, unable to concentrate on anything.

She longed to keep staring at the man with his back turned, hoping that one day he would turn and look at her.

A small sigh escaped her lips. The man, holding a cigarette similar to the ones Tom often smoked during his frequent visits to the house, opened the door and stepped inside. He had left earlier that morning, saying he wanted to visit the place where he had lost consciousness, and now he was on his way back.

“Do you remember anything?” 

Even in this small, confined space, the only thing they shared was s*x. If Swan didn’t strike up a conversation, the man would remain silent all day. On days when she went out to gather herbs or clean up outside, their paths often didn’t cross, and it was only at night that they saw each other. 

Did this monotonous life bore him? Did he dislike this life? The thought unsettled her. Perhaps she should suggest that they go out together to gather herbs. But would a knight enjoy something so trivial? Just walking through the fields, picking plants? It was obvious that he wouldn’t. He’d probably think it ridiculous and dismiss her for even mentioning it. 

Swan kept her eyes lowered as she waited for his answer. This was not a place he would stay once his memories returned. If he found the slightest clue, he would leave immediately. In the realm of his choices, Swan did not exist. She could never be one of his choices

A life with her would never satisfy him, and yet, despite his cold, distant gaze, her heart still raced. It swelled and overflowed with emotion, leaving her breathless and trembling with how deeply she cared for him. 

“No.”

“Y-you have to remember soon, right? So you can go back, isn’t that right?”

“Yes.”

His answer was brief and indifferent. Still, Swan calmed her racing heart and continued eating in silence. The man, a cheap cigarette hanging from his lips, seemed as disinterested as ever. He spooned some oatmeal into his mouth, chewed absentmindedly and got up from his seat.

Swan lifted her head to look at him. She’d gone to the trouble of preparing turkey and wine today, but he hadn’t touched anything except the porridge.

“Have you finished eating? Please try the turkey too. There’s wine too… I, I had an errand in the village this morning and I thought of you. It’s from Tom’s favourite brewery…”

She spoke hesitantly, her cheeks flushing. It felt incredibly awkward to admit that she had thought of him while running errands and buying turkey and wine especially for him. It was as difficult as twisting her tongue to imitate unfamiliar words in a foreign language.

The truth was it was a lie, which only made it harder. The sturdy man rarely touched the food she prepared. With a body as large as his, he must need a lot of calories just to move, yet he barely ate anything she made. Even the occasional bite of dry bread seemed like he was chewing animal food.

Could it be that he didn’t like what she was cooking? What kind of food did nobles eat? What could she prepare that he would like? These thoughts weighed on her mind and made her leave for the village at dawn. She wanted to finish her shopping and return quickly. Too scared to go to the brewery herself, she slipped into Tom’s storeroom, left a silver coin and took a bottle of wine.

She remembered putting the wine in her basket and then hesitating outside the butcher’s selling poultry. Having hardly interacted with anyone other than Tom, Swan found it daunting to speak to the shopkeeper. After stammering through several attempts, she finally managed to buy a turkey, but the memory of her struggle filled her with embarrassment.

The meal had been carefully and painstakingly prepared. The last time she’d had turkey was on her birthday with her mother – the first and last time. She had never eaten turkey since.

Meat, especially poultry, wasn’t something she ate very often. But for him, it was probably a normal and expected part of a meal. She worried that her preparation might not be up to his standards or satisfy him, but she had hoped that he would at least take a bite. And yet… nothing.

He was a man who rarely showed his emotions, making it difficult to gauge what he was thinking. Still, it wasn’t entirely impossible to pick up on the faint traces of emotion he couldn’t quite hide.

“My stomach isn’t feeling well. I apologise.”

“Oh… I see. W-where does it hurt? Could it be indigestion, or perhaps something you’ve eaten is not to your liking…”

Had the food gone bad? Or was there something wrong with his stomach? Swan had always been responsible for preparing the meals. Except for the breakfast she had made after their first night together, she had taken care of every meal since. Come to think of it, the man hadn’t contributed much to life in the cabin.

Apart from wandering around the place where he’d collapsed, searching for his memories, he hadn’t done anything else. She had considered asking him to help with small tasks to pass the time, but was too afraid of upsetting him to say so out loud.

“No, it’s just…”

He trailed off just as Swan looked at him with a flushed face. He looked away, as if even meeting her gaze was too much for him. His face showed clear signs of exhaustion. He mumbled his words reluctantly and left the table.

Swan stared at his back for a moment before lowering her head. The golden roast turkey and bottle of wine sat untouched on the table. It was a much more elaborate meal than usual. It had taken a long time to prepare, and even acquiring the ingredients had been a challenge, which made the thought of it going to waste all the more disheartening.

But he said his stomach wasn’t feeling well.

He probably had no intention of eating it. Her eyes felt hot and she rubbed at the dull pain in them before biting her lip. Just then the man looked back at her, cigarette in hand. Swan quickly turned her head away, her red, tearful eyes avoiding his.

She blinked, her lips pressed tightly together as her chest heaved heavily. A small, familiar hope began to stir inside her. Would he say something to comfort her? Perhaps he would just take a bite out of courtesy. That was what she had silently wished for.

She didn’t expect him to smile warmly or to thank her with joy. Nor did she expect him to say that he would enjoy the food. All she wanted was for him to speak to her – just one word.

It had been over a month. A month and a half since their first night together… and more than ten days since she had last seen Tom.

In the end, time changes all relationships. Whoever he was, Swan had believed that time would eventually change the dynamic between them. But… she hadn’t expected it to change like this. Thinking back to the days when he treated her kindly, if only out of courtesy, compared to now, it felt like her heart was being torn apart piece by piece. What had she done wrong now?

The trembling in her eyelids gave way to heavy pain. Hot tears welled up, moistening her eyes. As the tears threatened to spill from her reddened eyes, she clutched her apron tightly to keep them at bay. Just then, the man who had turned his back on her looked around.

Swan froze in surprise, her gaze fixed on him. Deep down, she hoped he would come closer, walk over to her, gently tilt her chin and wipe away her tears. But instead of walking over to her, as she had silently wished, he just stared at her tear-filled, reddened eyes.

His gaze, usually distant and sharp, lingered in her blurred vision. Her flushed face twitched slightly. His lips, with the cigarette resting between them, remained still, not a word escaping them.

Fear crept into her tear-stained eyes and her trembling fingers couldn’t stay still. Tears gathered on her tightly pressed lips. The man who had been silently watching her with sunken eyes turned away. As his footsteps retreated, Swan finally broke down in sobs.

A long, mournful cry filled the cabin. Swan realised she hadn’t cried so deeply or bitterly since her mother had died. She wiped her tear-stained eyes as she stared into the empty space where the man had stood moments before. Her chest rose and fell unevenly, refusing to settle.

She wasn’t even sure why she had started to cry, but the image of the man walking away remained vivid in her mind. His distant, infinitely cold blue eyes. At some point, those same eyes had begun to push her to the edge of an emotional abyss.

With her head bowed, her trembling hands wiped her wet eyes. Her lips twisted into a pained expression. She wanted to hold him, to cling to him so tightly that he couldn’t pull away. She longed to wrap her arms around his solid chest and feel the warmth she imagined there.

Hadn’t they kissed? Tenderly, like lovers – so soft, so intimate. Even with his usual indifference, he had always cared for her after their time together, gently cleaning her. He never treated her as if she were disposable, never like a common harlot, not even with his cold, unreadable gaze.

If he really didn’t care, he wouldn’t have slept with her. Yes, she clung to that belief. He wouldn’t have. There had to be a part of him that felt something for her, even if it was only a small part. What was she to him? What kind of woman did he see her as? Could the intimacy they shared ever be enough to change his heart?

Kissing, they said, was something you only did with someone you loved. But it wasn’t love – not for him. No, let’s be clear. He didn’t love her. Still… maybe he liked her, just a little? Her chest ached at the thought.