‘So it looks easy to you, does it…’

The fit of coughing—violent, almost convulsive—gradually subsided in his arms.
At some point, Kailhart had gone beyond simply supporting her. Half of his body was now inside the bath, holding her up.
Seeing him like that, Isabel straightened her back, trying to push strength into her weakening waist.

“I…”

His body, pressed against hers, was still painfully familiar—hotter than the water, and every bit as real.

“I’m fine now, so… if you could please let me—”

“What part of this is fine?”

“…What?”

“What exactly, is fine?”

The hand that had been gently stroking her back trembled violently with the words.

‘Ah… I feel like we’ve had this conversation before. Or maybe… I still haven’t woken up from the dream?’

“You’ve only just opened your eyes after days, Isabel.”

For a brief second, doubt crept in—Is this even real? But the emotion in his voice, the way he held her—none of it felt like a hallucination. It was far too vivid.

“You’ve been like this for days…”

His voice, dripping with desperation, lingered between her ear and neck, the words hanging in the air like something heavy and unspoken.

His fingertips threaded carefully through her hair, neither pulling nor hurting, but tense with the kind of control that came from holding back too much.

“It’s been days.”

‘What…?’

“Ten days, Isabel. For ten days, I… you…”

He couldn’t even finish the sentence.

Looking up at him—his face twisted with anguish—Isabel froze when he suddenly lowered his head and buried his forehead into her shoulder, as if he could no longer hold himself together.

“I thought I was going to lose you.”

His wet hair clung to her skin. His trembling hand, tangled in her own soaked hair, gave him away—he had been holding on by a thread.

‘Isabel—’

The way he called her name — so desperately and fearfully — was unrecognisable; it was unlike the man she knew.

Isabel’s entire body went rigid. It felt as if she had been hit. She couldn’t utter a single word.

A few bright yellow butterflies fluttered across her blurred, red-tinged vision. A lingering trace of the dream.

Isaya’s smiling face and gentle whisper still clung to her skin, warm and vivid. She had thought it was only a brief dream, a fleeting moment. But no — ten days had already passed.

“I’m supposed to protect you, the one by my side.”

“Isabel, I’ll protect you. I swear I’ll protect you, no matter what…”

Kailhart’s voice was overlapped by a lower, fainter one that echoed in her mind. It struck straight through her chest.

Yes, something like that had happened once before. And yet, everything remained pitch-black. She still couldn’t remember. Perhaps, as the doctors had said, her mind had fragmented the past to protect her.

The vague sense of something just out of reach continued to flicker at the edge of her consciousness, leaving her frustrated.

As she pondered those disjointed words, Kailhart lowered his head again, brushing his forehead against the nape of her neck.

Then he lifted his head—and gently cupped her face with both hands, as if needing to confirm she was truly there.

His large palms trembled as they sought her cheeks, and when he faltered slightly, lukewarm droplets slipped from her wet lashes and rolled down her face.

They fell into the bathwater with a soft plunk, sending ripples across the surface.
Isabel drew in a sharp breath.

The red-tinged water that cradled their bodies shifted gently. And beneath it, something else, something long submerged and warmer than her own skin, began to stir.

She could feel it now.

Every touch from Kailhart radiated heat—like a creature roused from hibernation, reaching out to make sure his mate was real.

The nape of her neck, her collarbones, her shoulders, her chest—wherever his skin met hers, it sparked across her like a live current.

His movements were urgent, almost frantic. As if he needed proof that she was alive, that she was still responding.
As if, with each touch, he was anchoring her—helping her reclaim her scattered senses, drawing a path back to herself with the shape of his hands.

It was reminiscent of those nights—of the way he had once licked and claimed her skin.
But this…This was undeniably different.

It wasn’t desire. It was something like… breathing life into someone on the brink of death. A desperate attempt to bring her back.

With questions lodged in her throat and her teeth clenched, Isabel could only respond wordlessly, letting herself be pulled into him.

“I’ve… it’s really been ten days?”

The images in her mind, the things happening before her eyes—none of it felt real. Everything was off-kilter.

Her brows knit together instinctively. Her head felt like it was cracking.

She reached up to steady her aching temple, and that’s when her wavering vision caught something else.

IV tubes.

A needle still embedded in her arm. And the end of the line—tainted with backflowing bl＊＊d.

Her eyes followed the tubes and landed on a steel cart beside the bath, cluttered with unfamiliar machines and equipment.

Everything around her was strange—utterly unfamiliar.

The sight made it clear: Her body was in bad shape.

Overwhelmed, Isabel could only sit there, stiff and silent, as if doubting her own eyes.

And then—

“Hhh… mmph—”

When his lips met hers again, her body flinched instinctively.

She tried to pull away. But before she could, Kailhart’s arms wrapped tightly around her once more, holding her in place.

“I… I just coughed up bl＊＊d. I don’t know what this is, but it might be contagious. So please, just—”

“It doesn’t matter, none of that matters.”

But he was too close. Far too close.

The only times their bodies had ever pressed this tightly together were during those nights in bed—moments born out of duty and obligation, never out of choice.

That closeness, now absent of any formal justification, felt entirely unfamiliar.

Unnerved, Isabel instinctively tried to pull away.

But Kailhart didn’t stop at simply staying beside her. He wrapped an arm around her waist and held her firmly in place, making sure she couldn’t move away.

Her body wavered, losing balance for a moment.

“Ah—”

Without thinking, she placed her hands on his broad shoulders to steady herself—almost as if to embrace him—but stopped just short.

“Ah…”

‘What… what was I just about to do?’

The thought left her flustered.

But Kailhart said nothing. Whether he had not noticed or had simply chosen to ignore it, he merely took her wrist gently in his hand and guided it to the back of his neck.

He didn’t speak. And yet, somehow, this moment felt vastly different from the countless silent, dutiful and responsible nights they had endured before.

So different.

The more she resisted, the tighter he held her, as if he were afraid she would slip away.

Finally, Isabel gave in to his embrace. She let out a long breath.

She could hear his heart pounding loudly and relentlessly.

‘This is real.’

With each pulse against her skin, she felt branded by reality.

🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁

Before the water had a chance to cool, they got out of the tub and sat side by side on its edge.

“Um, this is…”

It wasn’t just that.

“Just stay still. It’s fine.”

Isabel tried to protest, but all she received in return was that quiet command. Kailhart’s hands moved resolutely.

Nevertheless, his earlier care had helped, and it was true. The worst of her symptoms had subsided, and her seizures had calmed considerably.

She could now feel sensations more clearly, and the mist that had clouded the bathroom was finally starting to clear.

Her vision was clearer, and with it came a sharper memory of what had happened before she lost consciousness.

She’d accompanied Kailhart to her hometown under the pretense of an inspection of the outer provinces.

They’d gone to the clearing where her village once stood—now a barren wasteland—and for the first time, she had raised her voice at him.

Then came the sudden sandstorm, his suggestion they stop by the ruins of her old house, and her attempt to trace the threads of memory…

She remembered the ambush.
She remembered being dragged away.
She remembered the strange scent clinging to the men—it had muddled her senses.

And yet now, she was being told that had all happened ten days ago.

“You can forget about the deal. Consider it void.”

‘What?’

Isabel froze and turned to face him.

“What are you talking about?”

‘So it really means that little to you? Something you can offer so easily—only to take it back just as carelessly?’

“What are you talking about all of a sudden?”

Her voice was strained, her face contorted. But in stark contrast, Kailhart simply looked at her, expression unreadable.

“I’m saying you should put your health first.”

“…What?”

No, she must’ve misheard. Her ears must be playing tricks on her. That had to be it.

“Your own well-being should always be your top priority.”

That—
That sounded like he was saying her safety was his highest priority.

“So if you want to, you can call off our deal anytime.”

With a faint sigh, Isabel covered her forehead. Wet strands of hair tangled around her fingertips.

“You always…”

Everything inside her churned and fell apart in an instant, as if the belief that nothing had ever been left for her was a lie.

‘Do you even understand what I’ve risked for this? On us?’

“How can you say that so easily?”

‘Do you have any idea how desperately, how hopelessly I need you?’

‘How hard you are to reach… how every word you say shakes me to my core?’

As she gripped her warm forehead tighter, struggling to gather her scattered thoughts—

“It’s not easy.”

His reply came—quiet, steady.

“It’s never easy. But maybe it looks that way to you.”

“…”

“Does it?”

He gently took her wrist and lowered her hand, then kissed her.

Her fingers twitched.

“I…”

She had never once thought of him as her husband.
She had always considered him a stranger—someone distant, unknowable, and not worth knowing.
Someone with whom she could remain detached, objective, no matter what this arrangement meant.

“…It’s hard.”

‘I don’t know anymore. I really don’t know anything anymore…’

“You’re too difficult for me.”