Episode 12
Am I hallucinating? Did I stumble into some forest mushrooms with hallucinogenic effects or something?
For a fleeting moment, Dalia wondered if she was losing her grip on reality. But she steadied herself, forcing her thoughts back into order.
“No. It’s possible. I’m not the only one who could have strange abilities…”
After all, she had lived through a regression and even met a god. Compared to that, most things barely registered as “unreal” to her anymore.
She was about to try reasoning with the man when he suddenly began stripping again. Dalia froze, her mind going completely blank.
He tossed his clothes carelessly onto the floor.
“Kyaaa!”
Her eyes met his—completely naked, far too close.
In that instant, his figure overlapped with the masked man who had tried to violate her before she turned back time. Panic jolted through her.
She snapped upright, her hand flying to the hilt at her waist.
Clang!
Steel rang sharply in the room. Her blade’s sudden flash nicked the man’s leg, forcing him to hunch over with a groan. Their eyes were suddenly level.
“Urgh…”
She hadn’t meant to cut him, but she didn’t lower her blade either.
“Why do you keep taking off your clothes?”
Now that she thought of it, he could’ve lain on the sofa instead of putting her on the bed. Suspicious. Very suspicious.
“I help you, and this is how you repay me? With a sword?”
“Then stop undressing! Put something on.”
Dalia fought to keep her eyes from straying downward. In desperation, she grabbed whatever was within reach and flung it at him—it turned out to be a decorative throw from the bed.
An exhibitionist? Or maybe he really is some villain I’ve rescued by mistake…
Her unease, which she’d managed to suppress, surged back with a vengeance.
“And you thought stabbing me was the solution?”
The man looked at her with wounded indignation.
“I didn’t stab you. I just… grazed you a little.”
“…”
“…It wasn’t intentional.”
He clutched his leg, bleeding but calm, simply watching her. And oddly, there was suspicion in his eyes too—as if she might be the dangerous one.
That gave her pause. If he were truly about to assault her, would he look at her like that?
“Then answer me properly,” she pressed. “You weren’t planning something lewd just now?”
The trauma of dying at another man’s hands was still raw; even the slightest odd behavior from this stranger put her on edge.
He slowly shook his head.
“You don’t need to worry. I’ll never look at you in that way.”
“And how am I supposed to trust that?”
“…”
Her sharp, suspicious gaze didn’t waver. He sighed, and the sound rang with sincerity.
Well… the gods wouldn’t have told me to save some depraved pervert, would they?
That thought let her lower her sword, at least.
“Then why act in such a misleading way?”
“I wanted to check the wound I got earlier.”
“My wound? That’s on the back of my neck—”
“Mine. Thanks to you I recovered from the fatal blow, but that doesn’t mean I’m unscathed. Now I’ve got a fresh injury on top of it.”
Sure enough, he was battered with cuts and bruises, likely from the masked attackers. Blood still flowed freely down his leg where she’d sliced him. A pang of guilt pricked her.
“…Sorry. It’s not too deep. Let me treat it.”
She reached into her satchel—then froze.
She hadn’t noticed before, but etched into his skin was the divine sigil of Tempus.
That teleportation… it must’ve come from this. That’s no ordinary blessing. And this villa—these furnishings belong in a royal palace. This man isn’t just anyone.
“Who exactly are you? And where is this place?”
He answered without hesitation.
“I promise, I won’t try anything. You’re safe here. This is one of my villas, west of the capital—in the city of Ahmad.”
Ahmad? That was far, far from Viscount Borbon’s territory.
So he really is the one the god told me to save.
Though Ahmad was still two days on horseback from her goal, the capital, at least she had fulfilled the divine request—and escaped the viscount’s grasp for good. Relief loosened the tightness in her chest.
“This house… it’s yours?”
“One of them.”
He lifted the draped cloth she’d thrown over him and checked his wound. It was deeper than she’d thought.
“…Tch.”
She pressed her lips together, pulling out bandages and salve. Whatever else he was, he needed first aid.
She still had countless questions—but something told her she might not want the answers.
I’ve definitely gotten myself tangled in something dangerous.
Her mind was in turmoil, but her hands worked with steady practice.
The man studied her intently as she dressed his wound.
“You don’t strike me as someone raised to handle this sort of thing. Or am I wrong?”
“You’re not wrong,” she replied evenly. “Why?”
“Because you handle a sword like you’ve trained for years. And you wrap a bandage like you’ve done it a hundred times.”
Dalia tapped the hilt at her side.
“This beauty was my mother’s keepsake.”
“And the bandaging?” He flexed his newly-wrapped hand.
“That’s thanks to my father.”
Her tone shut the matter firmly. She wasn’t about to explain that her father was a violent drunk. The man took the hint and let it drop.
“Your skill is impressive. Thank you.”
He spoke simply, and his dark eyes lingered on her with quiet focus as she finished. His gaze was a little too close, a little too intent—enough to set her on edge again.
Then he said:
“You saved my life. That makes you my benefactor. Tell me what you want, and it’s yours.”
Her hand stilled in midair.
“…What I want?”
“Yes. For whatever reason, you were wandering that forest alone, and you’re being pursued by more than one group. You need help.”
“…”
“I owe you a life debt. Speak freely. Anything.”
A life debt? Wishes? Dalia eyed him suspiciously. He, however, looked utterly relaxed.
“One wish isn’t enough to repay you, though. Two. No, three.”
“Are you some kind of fairy godfather, granting wishes with no conditions?”
“Not a fairy, no.” He shrugged, unconcerned.
She scanned the lavish room again. Considering his teleportation, his sigil, and his wealth—maybe he wasn’t exaggerating.
“…You’re someone important, aren’t you? That sigil—you must be royalty, or close to it.”
“Something like that.”
Something like that? Couldn’t he just say yes or no?
“Right…”
He looked apologetic. “Forgive me. Explaining right now would be… complicated.”
“No need to apologize. I haven’t been open about myself either.”
From what she knew, every legitimate heir of the royal family was blond. This man’s jet-black hair suggested something else—an illegitimate child, perhaps, or a distant branch. If he couldn’t speak openly of his status, then he must live far from power.
“But if you can’t even reveal your identity, how can you possibly help me?”
In answer, he spread his hands with an easy grin.
“I’ll manage.”
Suspicion prickled through her. That effortless confidence was hard to trust.
Does he expect me to believe in him like some wish-granting spirit?
She studied him for a long moment before finally sighing, folding her arms.
“…Even if it’s just words, thank you.”
Her life had been so surreal lately that very little could surprise her anymore.
“Don’t just brush it off. Tell me—what do you need?”
“I only saved you because someone asked me to. You really want to know?”
“I do.”
He didn’t even ask who had requested it. His nonchalance was bizarre.
But his persistence wore her down. With a resigned shrug, she ticked them off on her fingers.
“First, a safe house. Somewhere I can hide completely. You saw for yourself—I’ve got people hunting me. I need to vanish for a while.”
“That’s simple. Stay here as long as you like.”
“…Fine. Second, money.”
I’ve squirreled away some, but from now on I’ll be on my own. The more the better.
She held up two fingers and looked at him.
“Do you have money?”
He laughed outright. Her bluntness seemed to amuse him rather than offend.
“Tell me how much you want. I’ll give you the location of my vaults and the codes. Take whatever you need.”
“How much are we talking about?”
“As much as you desire.”
“….”
This man. He’s either insane—or a con artist.
