Chapter 7
Freya stuffed a thick cloth into the man’s mouth and began treatment.
First, she disinfected the long, vertically torn wound along his side and stitched it with a needle. Each time the needle pierced his flesh, the man flinched violently, but he did not let out a single groan.
Next, she treated the smaller cuts left by the blade, pulled out an arrow embedded in his shoulder, stopped the bleeding, applied medicine, and bandaged the wounds. Throughout it all, the man gritted his teeth through the overwhelming pain without crying out or even groaning once. He truly had the endurance of someone one might call a hard man.
However, even that endurance reached its limit the moment the arrow embedded deep in his thigh was removed. The pain must have been excruciating—his body convulsed violently, and a harsh groan finally escaped his lips. When she began scraping away necrotic flesh afterward, he could no longer stay conscious and collapsed into unconsciousness.
Seeing him like that, Freya clicked her tongue.
“So, if I tell you to take a sedative, you should just take it. Who are you trying to impress with that stubborn pride? Well, now that you’re unconscious, treating you is actually easier.”
Muttering to herself, she continued the treatment. Even in his unconscious state, the man occasionally trembled and let out faint, pained groans, as if his body still couldn’t escape the agony.
Phew.
At last, she finished meticulously removing all the necrotic tissue. She had been so focused that when she finally lifted her head, her neck and shoulders felt stiff and sore. After applying disinfectant and antibiotic ointment, she was about to wrap the bandages when something unusual caught her eye on the inner side of his thigh.
It was a tattoo: the crimson imperial flag of the empire and a purple crown side by side, with blue numbers beneath them, and yellow numbers below those.
“What kind of tattoo is this, so colorful and extravagant? And it’s incredibly detailed too. If he’s a knight, this must be some knight order’s insignia from a territory—but why would it be placed somewhere so hidden instead of the arm or the back of the neck? Strange.”
As the man shifted with a rough groan, her curious thoughts were instantly dismissed. She quickly finished the remaining treatment and used the man’s discarded clothing as a blanket to cover him.
As the fire began to die down, the inside of the hut felt slightly cold, so Freya added more wood to the hearth. Watching the flames roar back to life, her eyelids grew heavy. After two hours of trekking in the mountains and the unexpected labor of treating the man, exhaustion piled up and she slowly drifted into sleep.
How long had she slept?
A faint, sobbing voice gradually pulled her back from the sea of unconsciousness.
“Mother… I don’t want this. I don’t want to be separated from you.”
“……”
“No… Mother, no… It’s fire… Someone please put out the fire… My mother is inside that palace… I’ll kill you. I’ll kill them all. Those who killed my mother and slaughtered my maternal family—I will never forgive them.”
The man’s cries continued.
“Your Majesty… you should have believed my mother. You said you loved her more than life itself… so why did you not trust her? Why did you turn your back on her?”
His voice—filled with blame, resentment, and sorrow—pierced her chest.
“What is this? This is too tragic to just be sleep talking.”
Fully awake now, Freya looked toward the man. At some point, the muttering had stopped, but his face remained twisted in pain, as if still trapped in a nightmare.
“Why do I feel so unsettled? It’s like I heard something I was never meant to hear. If I get involved with this man, nothing good will come of it. I need to keep my distance.”
Like walking on a swaying tightrope, Freya’s previous life had been precarious and dangerous. Her goal in this life was simple: live moderately kindly, secure her own benefits when possible, and stay out of trouble.
Yet this man had mentioned the emperor and a woman inside the imperial palace. Judging from it, his mother had likely been one of the emperor’s women. Something had happened, and the emperor had turned his back on her. As a result, his mother had burned to death within the palace, and his maternal family had been completely wiped out. For them, this man had sworn a blood oath of revenge.
Although the circumstances were somewhat different, the essence—revenge for one’s family—was eerily similar to her own past life, like a mirrored reflection.
Freya shook her head with a look of disapproval.
Revenge. Few understood better than she did how utterly destructive it could be. With some exceptions, revenge destroys not only the target but also the one who seeks it. And in her previous life, she had been no exception.
Of course, the outcome could be different if the one seeking revenge stood at the absolute pinnacle of power. In this world, that pinnacle was the emperor—but this man was not the emperor. Far from it, he was someone who would have to raise his blade against the emperor himself. Which meant that if his revenge failed, he would be executed for treason.
Just thinking about it made her dizzy. Freya shook her head again and firmly resolved to keep her distance from him.
At that moment, she heard the man’s teeth chattering violently.
“So cold… so cold…”
“Cold?”
Freya’s gaze automatically turned toward the hearth. But she had not been asleep long; the firewood still burned brightly, giving off strong heat.
“Cold…”
Hearing him complain again, Freya stood up and went to his side. Contrary to his words, his face was flushed red like a ripened persimmon. It seemed he had a fever.
She placed her hand on his forehead. As expected, it was burning hot.
Freya was not surprised. It was not unusual for chills and fever to occur simultaneously. When viruses or bacteria invade the body, the muscles generate heat to raise body temperature. A higher temperature helps the immune system fight off the invaders.
Once the battle against the pathogens ends, the body tries to return to normal temperature. During that process, muscles that were used to generate heat become sore, and the sudden loss of moisture from sweating leads to chills.
To reduce the fever, Freya dampened a cloth with lukewarm water and wiped his neck and armpits. The man’s expression softened slightly as his temperature seemed to drop.
But it was only temporary. His fever rose again—this time even higher than before. Seeing the dangerously high temperature, Freya decided to use an antipyretic. If left unchecked, a high fever could damage the brain.
She mixed fever-reducing medicine with water and brought it to him, shaking him awake. He opened his eyes, but due to the high fever, he could not fully regain consciousness and looked at her with unfocused eyes.
“It’s hard, isn’t it? Take this medicine. It will bring your fever down.”
Even in his semi-conscious state, perhaps trusting her, the man did not refuse. The moment he swallowed the medicine, he fell back asleep as if all his strength had drained away. Leaving him behind, Freya walked toward the hearth.
She added more firewood and then opened a small side window near the fireplace to look outside.
Night had already fallen, and the world beyond was blanketed in white light. It had been snowing continuously while she was treating the man.
The snowy landscape was beautiful. But her mind was too heavy and tangled to appreciate it purely.
His sleep talking had revealed fragments of his life, and it reminded her of her own past life—one that had been far from happiness. A wave of gloom rose within her, sinking her mood to the bottom.
But that was not all. Under normal circumstances, the man would not be able to leave for several days. The poison he had suffered from was not an ordinary one, but a highly toxic substance from Bu-sochou, and it had struck his leg of all places. Even if his condition improved, leaving by tomorrow was nearly impossible.
And if he could not leave tomorrow, he would need food. Since autumn had ended and winter was approaching, the only available food in this mountain would be wild game.
“So now I’m not just a doctor, but a hunter too?”
A tired laugh escaped her lips.
“Well, what can I do? I just have to handle it when it comes.”
Gurgle.
Perhaps thinking about food had reminded her stomach of its duties.
“Hey stomach. I’ll give you the night off today, so just rest.”
Freya patted her belly to soothe it.
Gurgle.
But her stomach protested even louder.
“No matter how much you complain, there’s nothing to eat today. Well… actually, there is something liquid.”
With a sudden realization, Freya slowly drank a cup of hot water, blowing on it as she did. After a second cup, her stomach finally seemed satisfied and stopped making any noise.
