Chapter 12

“You are… … .”
 
The young man shrank back in embarrassment. His head spun again.
 
 He made a loud noise and slumped back in his seat.
 
His disoriented state seemed amusing to the woman, who let out a short laugh. It was a captivating sound.
 
She held out her hand to him and said,
 
“Why are you attacking me? For a moment, I almost wondered if I had saved you for no reason.”
 
The young man blushed at the playful tone and stood up, holding her hand. She held the young man’s hand, led him to the bed, and made him sit down.
 
Water still dripped from her red hair and soaked her shoulders. But he seemed to be the only one who cared about her hair.
 
She crossed her arms and looked down at him with her brilliant golden eyes.
 
She hesitated before speaking to him, pondering the tone she should use.
 
“How are you feeling? I heard a loud noise from your room.”
 
Her next words seemed to be an odd mix of disrespect and respect.
 
He was torn for a moment. Should he be honest and say he wasn’t feeling well, or would that be a mistake that would show weakness?
 
“You don’t look okay.”
 
The woman turned her back on him and poured him a glass of water from the brass jug beside the bed.
 
He hesitantly took the glass she held out to him.
 
“Drink.”
 
Her voice had a certain magic to it. He gulped down the slightly lukewarm water.
 
The water seemed to finally clear his foggy head.
 
In the foggy haze of his memories, he could finally grasp some clearer thoughts.
 
The sudden rush of people… The thought that they might be one of ‘his’ men overwhelmed him with the need to defeat them.
 
He could tell they weren’t from him because of their poor skills.
 
Wait, who is this “his” I keep thinking about?
 
Anyway, the moment of attack was too terrifying.
 
He didn’t want to lose his life because he was the only…….
 
“Ugh……!”
 
His head hurt like it was going to crack again.
 
“Don’t think about anything!”
 
The woman stopped him sharply, the sound of her voice making his headache go away.
 
He looked at her. Her face, like that of a wary cat, was undoubtedly familiar to him.
 
He had collapsed on the street, but now he was in a room with intact walls and a roof. He asked her,
 
“Did you bring me here?”
 
The woman narrowed her eyes. Her golden eyes sparkled strangely in the light.
 
“You asked me to save you, didn’t you?”
 
Her obviousness was foreign to him.
 
She could have turned away, but she’d brought him here and hidden him.
 
The first person he’d met since regaining consciousness. The first kindness he encountered.
 
He stopped rummaging through his memories and stared blankly at the woman.
 
She told him to wait a moment, then opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. He did as she asked and waited patiently, as if he should do as he was told by the person who had hidden him.
 
She returned shortly, her footsteps indicating haste.
 
She entered the young man’s room and quickly locked the door behind her.
 
In one hand, she held a bundle wrapped in cloth and, in the other, a black silk pouch.
 
“Ah.”
 
He responded. The woman raised an eyebrow.
 
“Do you remember that these are your things?”
 
She pulled a cloth from the bundle, revealing the hilt of a sword.
 
The sword and pouch were placed on the man’s lap. The man was distant, staring down at his belongings as she brought them to him.
 
“I took a look at the contents to see if I could identify you; do you understand?”
 
The man nodded hesitantly, her voice authoritative. The woman narrowed her eyes in satisfaction and smiled.
 
The young man’s ears tipped red, and his head hung low as he felt embarrassed by the smile.
 
The woman took the sword in the young man’s lap and pulled it slightly out of its scabbard, exposing the blade. Pointing it at the beast’s vertically slit eye, she asked.
 
“Do you remember this symbol?”
 
The young man’s gaze followed the direction in which her finger pointed. He opened and closed his mouth.
 
He was sure he knew what this symbol was. But he couldn’t remember.
 
To no avail, the woman sighed and slid the blade back into its sheath.
 
Her long, white hands reached into his silk pouch and pulled out a vial and a notebook.
 
“What about these?”
 
The young man hesitated, opening the notebook. The rough handwriting next to the torn pages read… whose name it belonged to. 
 
The vials were also unidentified.
 
He shook his head, feeling depressed.
 
“Have you lost your memory?”
 
He nodded cautiously as she spoke to herself. The other let out a long sigh.
 
“You don’t know who you are, do you?”
 
He wasn’t sure.
 
The man in the mirror didn’t look like himself.
 
All his memories were a jumbled mess. The only memory that was clear and crisp, even if only in fragments, was of her.
 
***
His eyes seemed to be pleading for something, and for a moment, I was speechless.
 
His face wasn’t exactly my type, but there was something in his gaze and voice.
 
“Why, why are you looking at me like that?”
 
I’ve been dealing with him in a fairly relaxed manner, but that look!
 
They really freak me out.
 
He seemed like a damsel in distress, in desperate need of help.
 
He reaches out and squeezes the hem of my shirt, like he’s confused, scared, or both.
 
He looks like someone who really needs protection, and for a moment I forget that he’s the one who took down six strong, grown men with a single blow.
 
His eyes, which had seemed dry, now glistened with tears, as if he had finally found someone to rely on.
 
A single tear rolled down his cheek. He looked like an incredibly pure and harmless creature.
 
I reluctantly averted my gaze from him.
 
I hadn’t done anything wrong to this man, and if anything, I had done him a favor, so why did I feel guilty looking him in the eye?
 
 “If you can’t remember, you don’t have to force yourself to remember. You should rest a bit.”
 
The hem of my dress still clung tightly by him. I nudged his hand away.
 
“Put this down and wash your face. You’ve been crying.”
 
With his free hand, he touched his own cheek, as if feeling the traces of tears.
 
His face was actually clean, as the innkeeper had washed and dressed him. I think he was too confused to even realize it.
 
Anyway, there was no need for him to wash his face just because he cried. It was just a flimsy excuse to get him to let go of my clothes.
 
But I can’t help it. I feel a little dangerous being held so close to him.
 
It seemed like I might not be able to stick to the plan I had made in the carriage.
 
My head feels a little fuzzy.
 
I make a friendly face and gently pull his hand away.
 
“I’ll stay here; you go wash your face.”
 
The nameless man staggered to his feet, glanced uneasily in my direction a few times, and went into the room’s attached bathroom.
 
He didn’t make a sound at first as he wandered around, but thankfully, I soon heard him pressing the pump.
 
I let out a heavy sigh.
 
The hem of my dress was crinkled where he’d grabbed it.
 
‘God, you’re strong.’
 
* * *
Before I came here, in the carriage, I drove around the neighborhood, trying to figure out what to do with him.
 
What should I do with man?
 
At the point of picking him up, I’d somewhat crossed the line. No, perhaps it was when I reported him.
 
I figured I should at least give him the credit he deserved.
 
“Ha…….”
 
If I were royalty, I could just turn a blind eye and take him in and take responsibility.
 
But until my divorce is finalized and I receive my inheritance, I’m just a lowly duchess with 50 million Acrons to my name.
 
And even if I do inherit and become Countess Balthus, I’ll have my hands full for a while.
 
This means I’m not inclined to protect a person whose identity is unknown and who is being chased.
 
To be precise, I didn’t have the confidence. Confidence to take care of him well and to find his family.
 
I am a bit reluctant to pick someone based solely on their momentary emotions and motivation. If you are not confident in raising a stray cat properly, you should not pick it up.
 
‘But I can’t just abandon him either.’
 
Since I am also human, I felt pity when I saw the unconscious young man.
 
He didn’t seem like someone who had a typical tough life. Moreover, I couldn’t help but feel worried for him because he looked so vulnerable.