DSFL | Chapter 68

~Chapter 68~ 

I couldn’t answer Ricardo. I could only let out a shaky breath.

 But then—his body suddenly went limp.

“R-Ricardo?”

“…”

“Ricardo!”

He didn’t respond.

His body burned like fire.

 How did he even manage to follow me in this state?

 A wave of guilt rushed in.

 I should’ve stopped him. I knew something was off from the very beginning.

Grunting, I struggled to move his heavy body and lay him down in a more comfortable position.

 I was about to run and look for medicine when—

“…”

His burning hand weakly grabbed mine.

 For a moment, I thought he had regained consciousness, but no—he was still out.

I bit my lip and squeezed his hand tightly.

“I’m not going anywhere… So just get better, okay?”

I wasn’t sure if he heard me, but his hand slowly loosened its grip.

There has to be medicine here… somewhere.

 I turned the cave upside down, and finally, not far from where we were, I found a box filled with herbs.

As I lifted a bundle of dried leaves, a piece of paper fluttered to the ground.

***

[There is a monster living within the timeline. No one knows its true form yet, but a few things are clear:]

 It cares for humans.

It has never harmed a human.

Even as an adventurer, it’s been kind to me. Sometimes, like a mischievous fairy, it gives me strange gifts. I have no idea what it’s thinking.

Damers – Blood stop agent? (Didn’t die after using it. So far.)

 Bristol – Seems to dull the pain. (Or maybe I thought it did.)

A rough drawing was scribbled next to the notes, but luckily, the illustrations were good enough to identify the herbs.

Then, a final note:

[There’s one item whose purpose I still can’t figure out. It changes shape frequently, and moves like it’s alive. The monster said it was a “path to the Library,” but I don’t know what that means. (Honestly, it feels haunted. Maybe a prank.)]

The drawing was incomplete, just a series of sketchy lines.

Still, I could tell the writer had tried to capture something strange—maybe one of the items Simon had collected was a gift from this so-called “monster.”

 But I shook the thought off. Now’s not the time.

I grabbed the herbs and rushed back to Ricardo.

His fever had worsened. His forehead glistened with cold sweat.

“…This is just too much,” I muttered, biting my lip as I began unbuttoning his shirt.

“I never asked for your help, you know.”

The bitterness in my voice surprised even me.

“We’re not even anything to each other. If you’re just doing this because you still feel guilty about that day…”

But when I moved to wipe his back, my voice stopped.

 My breath caught.

His back was covered in scars—deep, countless marks that spoke of a long, painful past.

***

Ricardo had always wanted to grow up quickly.

 He thought that once he became an adult, his path in life would be clear.

 But the child who resembled Harness followed the same road.

 There was no end to revenge.

Even so, some quiet light had crept into his life.

 For the first time, he wanted to live. To breathe.

“After you return Ailins’ power to me… what do you want, Duke?”

He had wanted to show Harness that curses don’t define people.

 After that—he had planned to die.

He thought it was the only way to break the cycle of revenge.

 But somewhere along the line… he began to want more.

He wanted to prove that he wasn’t like Harness.

 That even if he was raised in twisted love, he could still become someone else.

Especially to her, who had grown up surrounded by warmth—he didn’t want to seem lacking.

He tried not to repeat the same mistakes, constantly correcting himself, striving for perfection.

 But now, he knew:

 Perfection was never going to happen.

He was nothing but pain to her.

 He swore not to become like Harness, yet somewhere along the way, he had become a shadow of him.

If only we had started from a different place… would things have been different?

No—he had so many chances to start over.

When she sent that apology letter, he should have gone to her right away and told her it was okay.

 The day she and Idette fell into the lake, he should have held her hand and told her he didn’t leave her there on purpose.

 The day they met again in Deance, he should have told her how happy he was to create memories with her.

When she was abandoned by her fiancé and left all alone, he should’ve held her hand and said sorry.

Even that one day—when she smiled at him—he should’ve told her she looked beautiful.

He missed all those chances. No one else.
Just him.

And he couldn’t forgive himself for it.

***

Crack.

A spark flickered in the fire.

“…Where am I…”

It had grown dark.

Only the small campfire lit the cave.

Ricardo gritted his teeth but froze when he saw her—Bianca—holding his hand in her sleep.

“…!”

His eyes widened.

 But when he looked down, his heart sank.

Thick ointment had been carefully applied to the terrible scars he had always tried to hide.

She saw everything.

Terror crept in.

She’ll think I’m a monster. Just like my mother did…

He wanted to flee.

 To run away before she woke up and looked at him with horror.

But he couldn’t.

 Her hand was still holding his.

Her sleeping face was soft and peaceful. The sharpness in her eyes, the usual tension—was all gone.

Why can’t I run?

He didn’t know.

 Maybe it doesn’t matter anymore.

Ricardo reached toward her.

 Tears clung to the corners of her closed eyes—maybe because of a bad dream.

He gently wiped them away.

 And then… she opened her eyes.

Clear, honest eyes. Still wet, but unafraid.

Her gaze landed on him—and he couldn’t breathe.

It felt like someone had wrapped a hand around his throat. And yet… he felt oddly happy.

He wanted to pull her close and fall with her.

And at the same time… he wanted to carry her somewhere higher.

He had no idea how to stop this longing.

Whenever I think of you… it makes me want to cry.

***

The fire crackled softly in the cave.

I broke the silence first.

“There were some herbs left in the cave. Lucky, right?”

As I checked the bandage on his shoulder, I added,

 “I’m not a real doctor, so… you’ll go see one once we get back, right?”

Ricardo just stared at me.

 “…Answer me.”

He gave in under my persistent tone and nodded slowly.

“…I’ll check later.”

Of course, I couldn’t just believe that—he always said that.

So I narrowed my eyes.

“Later?”

“Yes.”

“…”

“I’m not the type to live with debt,” I muttered, reaching for more herbs.

As I moved toward his back, Ricardo spoke firmly.

“That won’t be necessary.”

He tried to reach for his shirt.

So I grabbed it too—at the same time.

“Sure. You’re fine.”

“I don’t lie.”

“I didn’t say you did.”

I pulled the shirt.

 Ricardo’s hand dropped—it was weak, no strength in his shoulder.

“Back wounds aren’t easy to notice. Only someone who’s watching closely would even see them.”

“…”

“Isn’t that why you fixated on my scars, too?”

Ricardo froze.

“I learned it from you. So don’t try to change the subject now.”