The darkness didn’t last long.

Hands guided her forward briefly before pushing her unceremoniously into a vehicle.

Only once she was seated did the black cloth finally come off her head.

The back of the truck was spacious, dimly lit by a single yellow lamp hanging from the ceiling.

Crates were stacked in one corner. The windows were boarded up.

There was only one other passenger: the man who had held a gun to her head.

The engine rumbled to life beneath them.

“…”

He was sitting directly beneath the lamp, reading a book.

His military cap was still pulled low, shadowing half of his face.

He turned each page with an effortless and almost elegant indifference, as though the terrifying encounter just moments ago had been nothing at all.

The contrast was so surreal that Daphne could only stare at him in stunned silence.

‘He spared me.’

‘Did he react to that insane thing I said?’

‘Why did I think something like that?’

‘And why… didn’t he shoot me?’

Flip, flip—

The pages turned slowly. He seemed absorbed in his reading, as if he were sitting in a quiet study rather than at the back of a military truck.

Daphne didn’t know much about military ranks, but judging by the medals on his uniform, this man was clearly someone important.

And yet here he was, travelling with her.

As though she were some fragile cargo that must not be damaged.

“Miss Winfred.”

He called her name softly, still without lifting his eyes from the book.

“Tell me everything in your head. Every last thought.”

Flip—another page turned.

“Why did you think I couldn’t kill you?”

“……”

His tone was almost coaxing.

She tried to see his eyes, but they were hidden in shadow by his cap.

The space remained dim.

A fleeting thought crossed her mind: was he deliberately hiding his face from her?

“I…”

He disliked delayed answers.

Daphne’s fear-based training meant she spoke quickly, and the moment she opened her mouth, the man shut his book.

He stood at an angle, focusing completely on her.

‘What am I supposed to say?’

He already knew that she had lost her memories.

He had questioned her as though this were a crucial fact.

Tick, tick.

She could almost hear the second hand of a clock ticking.

Perhaps it was only in her head.

After what felt like five imaginary ticks had passed, Daphne finally gave in to the pressure and continued.

“I don’t know who Allen Howard is.”

The man tilted his head.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“As you know, I’ve lost my memory.”

“……”

“But fragments of memory or emotion remain…”

“So you’re telling me you had a gut feeling—that I wouldn’t be able to kill you?”

In an amused tone, he echoed her words and stepped closer.

His footsteps were light, as though he were walking on level ground.

The truck lurched suddenly — perhaps it had hit a rut in the road — but he remained steady.

“Why do you think that is?”

He bent down to meet her gaze.

Daphne stared back, unsure of how to respond, and simply held his gaze.

Jolt!

The truck shook again.

The crates stacked on one side clattered loudly.

The air itself seemed crushed under the weight of the moment.

But the gaze tangled between them did not waver.

“Why do you want to live?”

His question came low.

Daphne thought there was something hurried about his voice.

“Answer me!”

The noise of the truck grew louder, but he shouted over it as if he meant to swallow her whole.

‘Why do I want to live?’

She rummaged through her mind for an answer.

But there was no hint of what might satisfy him.

‘I don’t know why I want to live.’
‘And yet… I want to.’

“Should I press a gun to your head again?”

He shouted once more. At the word ‘gun’, her eyes widened.

She had to say something — anything. She couldn’t bear the thought of being threatened with death again.

“I…!”

Bang!

The air was suddenly split by a gunshot and the truck lurched violently forwards.

Crates crashed to the floor with a chaotic clatter.

The man sprang to his feet and pulled back the curtain separating them from the driver’s seat.

A harsh spill of light poured through the gap.

“…D*mn it!”

An ambush?

He muttered a sharp curse as soon as he looked into the front cabin.

The driver had already been hit and was slumped over the steering wheel, looking as though he had fallen asleep.

His hands had slipped entirely off the wheel.

A sharp curve loomed ahead.

If the truck missed it, they would plunge straight into the forest below.

The vehicle thundered forward.

Within seconds, the front wheels lifted off the ground.

“No—Daphne!”

Realizing what was about to happen, he shouted and lunged towards her.

She felt the force of his body as he pulled her tightly into his arms.

The vehicle plunged downwards into the steep drop.

The moment the wheels hit the ground again, there was a brutal impact.

The truck lurched and spun violently, throwing their bodies against the metal walls.

It rolled aimlessly, as if caught in a merciless grip.

Crates exploded open, their contents crashing into them repeatedly.

His body, still shielding hers, took the brunt of every blow.

Only after smashing through several trees at the edge of the forest did the truck finally come to a halt.

Silence fell.

Dust or smoke hung thickly in the air and the faint, acrid scent of burning lingered around them.

“Kh… cough…!”

Curled up against his chest, Daphne coughed violently as the dust-filled air scraped painfully down her throat.

He did not loosen his grip on her even then.

As soon as the shaking subsided, the soldier pushed himself up.

Before she could register what was happening, he lifted her into his arms, kicked the truck door open, and jumped out into the open air.

He ran at full speed.

They were deep within a forest thick with towering birch trees.

Dry twigs and brittle weeds snapped beneath his boots as he ran through the undergrowth.

Daphne jolted with every long, relentless stride.

From somewhere in the distance, faint, chaotic noises grew louder and became more distinct.

‘Are they soldiers from my homeland, Astasha?’

If she encountered those people, she might finally be freed from her life in captivity.

However, if she dared to cry out, the man carrying her would kill her before anyone could reach her.

Pressed tightly against his chest as he ran, Daphne studied his face in silence.

Sweat slid down his cheek in a thin diagonal line, accentuating the angle of his sharp temple.

Above the back of his head, the sky stretched out; the sun was fractured by dense branches and heavy leaves, scattering shards of late-afternoon light across his features.

Because of the crash, the military cap he always wore had fallen off.

Under the open sky, his face was finally fully revealed.

He was strikingly blonde.

Daphne kept her gaze on him as he ran, always forward.

“No, Daphne!”

He called her name.

His voice sounded desperate and pained, as if he were terrified that she might get hurt.

As the truck tumbled and smashed through the forest, he wrapped himself around her, shielding her with his body.

He took every blow and brutal impact in her stead.

Why?

Was it simply because she was someone’s replacement?

Was she just a stand-in for Allen Howard, a fragile substitute that must not be damaged?

Her thoughts wandered hazily as she continued to stare at him.

‘You tried to kill me.’

Why…?

His face was far too beautiful for a soldier.

It was too beautiful and somehow familiar.

Yet she was certain that she had never seen him before.

Once again, that strange sensation rose inside her, swelling unexpectedly.

A sharp pain stabbed her somewhere deep in her chest.

Was it pain?

Longing?

Or hatred?

The man’s gaze never left the path ahead.

He ran with unwavering focus, driven by a single purpose: safety, escape, survival.

His hair whipped violently in the wind.

A thin smear of blood, mixed with sweat, streaked down his cheek, only to be swept back again.

The forest around them never seemed to change.

The dense birch trees stretched on endlessly.

Yet he ran as if he knew exactly where he was going.

＊ ＊ ＊

By the time he finally stopped, he was far removed from the chaos around him.

Despite having run for what felt like tens of minutes, he had only let out a few ragged breaths.

They were still deep in the forest, but here the trees grew even more densely, forming a natural fortress. The ground dipped and rose in such a way as to hide them well from view.

He put Daphne down in a sheltered hollow, scanned their surroundings with practiced caution and then returned to her side.

“……”

Everything was still.

His pale hair, tangled from the long sprint, fell messily across his forehead.

A small cut on his cheek was streaked with dried blood.

His tired blue eyes met Daphne’s gaze.