Chapter 124
Blehel’s mental attacks were, true to her nature, cruel, savage, and merciless. They dragged out the desires and hopes hidden deep inside a person, or their painful pasts, or even their most terrifying imaginings. By scratching and wounding people’s inner selves through illusions rather than reality, forcing them to submit—sometimes even making them want to give up on life itself—that was the hallmark of Blehel’s attacks.
William had heard about this from Rafaela and had committed it to memory.
But knowing something didn’t mean anyone could easily deal with it.
At the sight unfolding before his eyes, William felt as though all the blood in his body were rushing backward.
“Cough… William….”
In the middle of the black forest, Rafaela lay collapsed, her entire body brutally slashed. She spat bright red, frothy blood from her mouth and desperately reached out toward William.
“S-save… me.”
William’s feet wouldn’t move, as if they were bound to the ground. He wanted to run to her at once, but like someone pinned down by sleep paralysis, nothing but his eyeballs would respond. He couldn’t even open his mouth.
Lying in a pool made from her own blood, Rafaela panted as if her breath would soon give out.
“William… cough.”
Her hand, stretched toward him in desperation, trembled violently. It looked as though it might fall to the ground at any moment.
Whether what he saw was an illusion or not, William struggled with all his might to rush to her. He clenched his teeth so hard that they ground together with a crunching sound, blood seeping from his gums until his mouth tasted metallic—but it was useless.
“Ghk….”
In the meantime, Rafaela’s eyes were gradually losing their light. The blood pouring from her body overflowed the pool and began to ooze slowly and stickily along the uneven ground.
With a face turned pale from massive blood loss, she continued to call out to William desperately.
“It hurts so much… please save me.”
Blood vessels burst one by one in William’s eyes. It was from forcing too much strength into his rigid, frozen body. His eyes turned red, and tears pooled within them. The surging power inside him felt as if his body might burst apart at any moment.
Just then, the string around his wrist suddenly tightened sharply.
William barely managed to roll his eyes downward, and saw that the teddy bear that had slipped out of his pocket was wriggling as it climbed up his body.
“…!”
Slowly but precisely, the teddy bear headed for his face. Strangely enough, William felt nothing at all from it climbing up—despite how tightly it gripped and tugged at his clothes as it crawled.
William recalled Rafaela’s words: that it was a “shield.” So he waited calmly for the doll to climb up and cover his face completely. In truth, since he couldn’t move anyway, he had no other option.
At last, the teddy bear pressed down on his lips and nose, covering his entire face. With a sharp snap, the stiffness left his body. At the same time, the bear—now hard as stone—dropped with a dull thud and dangled from the wrist string, swaying.
“So that’s what you meant by ‘shield.’”
William stuffed the hardened doll back into his pocket in his stead and hurried forward. His bare feet struck tree roots and stones, leaving cuts and wounds everywhere, but he didn’t care.
He sprinted toward Rafaela at full speed.
The moment he arrived, he grabbed her hand and supported her head. She coughed violently and spoke with great difficulty.
“Help me, William. Please… save me….”
“Please get on my back. I’ll take you to a physician at once.”
“No… if I move now, I’ll die. Look at all this blood. Even if we go to a physician, it’ll be too late.”
“Then what should I do?”
At that, Rafaela’s hand gripping William suddenly tightened with force. She raised her eyes and said,
“Blood. Give me your blood.”
With her other hand, soaked in blood, Rafaela brought her fingers to William’s neck. She pressed down hard where his pulse throbbed wildly and continued,
“It’s severe blood loss. If you just share a little of your blood with me… I think I can live.”
William noticed that Rafaela’s golden eyes, which usually shone so clearly, had turned dull. But faced with her pale face, blood spilling from between her lips as she begged him, he couldn’t bring himself to push her away.
“…I’ll give it to you. As much as you need.”
“Now. Right now. Before my breathing stops. Hurry.”
Rafaela’s fingernails began to dig sharply toward William’s carotid artery. He flinched at the stinging pain, but he didn’t stop her hand.
“Take it all. Even if I die, please make sure Rafaela lives.”
“Good. Come closer. Bring your neck closer.”
“Yes.”
Rafaela’s lips curved upward on both sides. It was completely different from her usual playful smile, where only one corner of her mouth lifted.
William squeezed his eyes shut and brought his neck closer to Rafaela’s face. The closer he got, the deeper her fingernails dug into his flesh.
Like a vampire, Rafaela’s eyes gleamed as she waited for blood to burst from William’s neck.
A little earlier.
As William was flying with Leo toward Blehel’s castle, Rafaela—swallowed by black mist—struggled to lift her heavy eyelids.
“Where… is this?”
She opened her eyes and looked around.
It was a shabby mountain cabin made of wood. Cobwebs and dust piled up everywhere, patches of mold clung to the walls—a tiny, one-room wooden hut that looked as if it might collapse at any moment. There was nothing inside but a rickety wooden bed and a small wooden table. It was a miserable place, yet it felt strangely familiar.
She was sitting in the middle of the room.
“What… was I doing?”
Her head felt clouded, and she couldn’t think of anything at all. Then, as she looked down, she thought it strange that her body seemed so small—
“Oh. Right. I’m ten years old now.”
She accepted it naturally, as if under hypnosis.
Her fingertips were bluish and numb, as though frostbitten, throbbing with a dull ache. Beyond that, her thin, emaciated body hurt all over—there wasn’t a single place that didn’t ache.
Rafaela became aware that the breath she exhaled through her nose was hot.
“Am I sick?”
Thinking she should at least drink some water, she stood up. In the corner kitchen, dirty dishes were piled up, with a few rotten potatoes rolling among them. The place looked barely fit for human habitation—yet even that felt utterly familiar.
Rafaela naturally picked up an old kettle. She brought the spout to her mouth and tilted it, but only a few drops—less than half a mouthful—dribbled out before it ran dry.
“Right. We ran out of water. My brother said he’d go fetch some.”
Brother? Did I have a brother?
The moment the thought occurred, an inexplicable longing and sorrow welled up inside her, tightening her chest painfully.
“…Brother? Brother.”
Little Rafaela clutched her chest and sank to the floor, bursting into tears.
“Sniff… Brother… where are you? When are you coming back? Waaah….”
Just as her quiet sobs grew into loud crying, the cabin’s old door creaked open.
Outside, a fierce snowstorm was raging.
A boy hurried inside and quickly shut the door behind him. He set down the bundle he’d been carrying, then brushed the snow off his tattered cloak and hat, riddled with holes.
When the remaining snow melted and soaked into the cloak, the boy hastily took off his outerwear and hung it to the side.
The moment Rafaela saw the boy—who looked about fifteen—her mouth opened automatically.
“Brother!”
She ran over on her short legs and clung to his legs.
“How could you get up already? You should have stayed lying down longer.”
Though he scolded her, the boy gently stroked her head. Then he noticed that her eyes were red and asked in surprise,
“Did you cry? Why were you crying? Were you in that much pain?”
Rafaela’s words spilled out on their own.
“You weren’t here. I was scared.”
“I told you I was going to get water and food.”
“I was afraid you wouldn’t come back… like the others….”
“You silly girl. I told you—I’ll never leave.”
“Hmph. Still… winter’s far from over, so how can I not worry?”
“I’m stronger than a snowstorm. See? I came back just fine again today.”
“…Yeah.”
“Good girl. Now lie back down on the bed. Your fever hasn’t gone down yet.”
Before she knew it, the boy’s icy-cold hand was resting on Rafaela’s forehead. With a sulky face, Rafaela protested that touching someone with such cold hands would give even a healthy person a fever—but the boy simply lifted her up and laid her back on the bed. Then he carefully pulled the old, musty blanket up to her shoulders.
“Get some sleep. I’ll make you some soup.”
“You got food?”
“I was lucky today—I caught a sparrow. There’s not much meat in winter, but we can at least make broth.”
“That’s a relief.”
“Should I give you some water first? You’re thirsty, right?”
“Yeah.”
The boy took out a wooden water flask from the bundle and opened the lid. He filled the kettle Rafaela had just held to the brim, then carried it over to the fireplace in the middle of the room.
Rafaela didn’t want to miss a single moment of what was happening before her eyes. It was truly strange.
Even though her brother was right there in front of her, she missed him endlessly, and everything felt achingly dear.
But perhaps because her fever kept rising, her head grew increasingly foggy, making it hard to think deeply.
