Chapter 12………………………….
“Caleith Perdian.”
“Yes.”
“Why… why are you here…?”
Is the man in front of her just a sweet illusion?
Tears poured down Psyche’s eyes.
They didn’t even have time to trace her cheeks before dropping beneath her chin.
She cried without even knowing why.
“I don’t know either. When I realized it… I was already here.”
“P-please… leave.”
Her voice broke badly between her teeth.
The sound of her trembling teeth and jaw colliding revealed just how much she was shaking.
“That request, I don’t think I can accept it. You look extremely pale.”
“I-I’m fine… I’m always like this.”
Psyche pushed Caleith away and turned her head.
She didn’t want to see his face right now—she already looked pathetic enough.
“You don’t look fine.”
Caleith lifted her chin and stared at her closely.
Her face was deathly pale, lips drained of color.
Her eyes were red from shedding tears.
Her arms looked so thin they seemed as if they would snap at any moment.
Her water-blue eyes were shrouded in a gray haze.
Caleith found himself drawn to Psyche—sometimes occasionally, no, often… always.
Even after he left her, his heart had pounded painfully, as if something had broken.
As if he had done something he shouldn’t have.
Before he knew it, his steps had already turned back toward her.
With her, his body always moved before his mind.
He had always considered himself rational and composed—but that changed whenever she was in front of him.
“Why are you being so kind to me…? You said you don’t even know me.”
Psyche forced up a trembling smile.
Her fragile eyes shook endlessly.
“Kind?”
Caleith scratched the back of his neck, slightly bewildered.
Of all people—him, the man called a killer—being called kind?
He wasn’t kind. He knew that better than anyone.
So… was he being kind to her right now?
Was it an unconscious, tiny act of kindness?
He found Psyche’s sorrowful eyes maddening.
At their first meeting… and even now.
“Kindness… maybe it is.”
He murmured softly.
“Or perhaps… it’s pity for someone who’s suffered misfortune.”
The word lingered in Psyche’s ears.
Pity… pity… No, it wasn’t pity. It was merely a faint goodwill.
Nothing more than that.
For some reason, her chest grew warm.
As if walking between fire and ice.
But soon, her heart froze even more deeply.
“I… I ended up hoping.”
She had unknowingly begun to expect something from Caleith—someone who knew her.
Even though she knew how cruel and hopeless that expectation was.
She bit down on her lip, trying to hide her expression.
He was reacting like this because of what happened earlier.
Her mouth tasted bitter. A wave of emptiness washed over her.
“Did you… see it?”
Caleith said nothing, only looked at her.
“Ah… I see.”
She understood his silence as confirmation.
His faintly distorted expression said it all.
“I see… you did.”
Heat rushed to her face all at once.
She wanted to disappear into a hole in the ground.
She hadn’t wanted him to see her so weak like that.
How ridiculous—she had only hoped for a little pity, and even that had made her expect something more.
Now it only hurt.
“Please… forget it.”
It would’ve been better if she had never come here.
She had come only to see him, driven by selfish hope.
She had even foolishly expected he might remember her, even slightly.
But nothing had changed.
“Pity… that’s not all.”
Caleith’s calm voice cut through the silence.
He stepped closer.
Psyche remembered what he had once said.
“Do you think someone will remember you just because you ask? Even if we met before, it’s pointless. Useless.”
He had said he would never remember.
A cruel voice that destroyed even the smallest hope.
And yet now he stood in front of her again.
“I don’t know why… but my body moved before I could think.”
He hesitated briefly, then continued.
“Don’t move. Stay still. And… forgive me for what I’m about to do.”
Before she could react, Caleith lifted her into his arms.
One arm under her knees, the other behind her back.
She was lighter than he expected. Too thin.
Psyche panicked and struggled.
As if he had expected it, he held her more firmly.
“W-what are you doing?! Put me down!”
“I’m not asking permission—I’m asking you to bear with it before you’re startled.”
His expression remained calm.
“You don’t look well enough to walk. It’s easier this way. Walking on your own like this… is pointless stubbornness.”
Psyche was too stunned to respond.
Caleith carried her out through the back entrance.
No one paid attention as they passed.
Psyche’s heart pounded so loudly she was sure he could hear it.
“…Is this a dream?”
She hoped it wasn’t.
And if it was a dream… she almost wished she would never wake up.
“Why are you smiling like that, when you look in pain?”
“If it’s a dream… I don’t want to wake up. You’re being too kind. It feels strange.”
“It’s not a dream. Don’t worry.”
He cut her words off firmly and gently made her lean against his shoulder.
Her face burned red.
‘He’s still so kind.’
He always hid it.
Wrapped kindness in coldness, pretending indifference.
Psyche closed her eyes and leaned into him obediently.
Her heart raced.
A pure, bright smile formed on her lips.
“…Have you recovered your memories?”
“…”
He stayed silent for a long moment.
“No.”
He adjusted her position slightly and looked out the window.
“Just… I felt like I should do this.”
While holding her, his thoughts were still tangled.
‘If I don’t… I feel like I’ll hurt just as much as you do.’
He swallowed the thought.
His head ached whenever he thought of her.
His heart throbbed, his breath felt tight.
So he decided it was better to ignore Psyche Benoine completely.
But that decision had already failed.
His body moved before his mind.
“Later… you’ll remember. You promised not to forget me. I believe in you.”
Her words echoed again and again in his mind.
Memory.
What memory was it, that made his chest feel so heavy?
“Caleith… I hope you’ll remember me someday.”
Psyche opened her eyes and looked at him.
His profile was calm, distant.
Sharp eyes. Defined features.
He still looked cold.
She kept watching him.
Then she whispered:
“Caleith… Benoine.”
“Don’t call me that.”
Her voice trembled as she shook her head.
“Why?”
“Because… it feels like you’ve already remembered everything. Like I’m the only one being left behind.”
She lowered her head.
Caleith frowned slightly.
“Then what should I call you?”
“Just… Psyche. That’s enough.”
She held her hands tightly together.
‘It hurts… seeing how different you are now.’
Caleith looked at her side profile.
A strange woman.
Her eyes—filled with longing, sadness, and joy for him… yet still drawing a line.
That contradiction weighed on his chest.
“Psyche Benoine.”
He spoke slowly.
“When you look at me… your eyes are warm, then suddenly cold. You draw a line.”
“….”
“Why do you draw that line between us? I don’t like it.”
He looked at her with a heavy, lingering gaze.
