Chapter 4
Tarmin walked with the setting sun at his back.
He was on his way home, weighed down by complicated feelings.
Elenora's cool smile lingered in his mind.
He wished she hadn't noticed, but her expression left no doubt that she had.
“Did you happen to see?”
“See what?”
“…No, never mind.”
Elenora said she'd remembered something urgent and returned to the castle. She hadn't seemed forgetful.
Tarmin let out a long sigh.
He'd never let anyone see it before, but a series of coincidences had exposed his weakness, much to his embarrassment.
That woman. Calling him Taal, like Enya.
His mind had been full of thoughts of Enya, and then the Enya in his head suddenly spoke to him, startling him badly.
And so, without realizing it, he'd let it show.
The biggest reason the ordinary Tarmin had been able to travel with the hero, even if only for a while.
Early in their adventure, after the underground folk had suffered terribly at Tarmin's hands, they gave him a hateful nickname.
The Evil Bow.
They called it the devil's bow that never missed its mark.
Compared to the hero party's prowess, it seemed insignificant, but in the world of ordinary people, it was certainly a formidable ability.
He knew firsthand that he lacked the qualities of a hero, having been soundly beaten. But what if he were an assassin, for instance?
What if Elenora found some pretext to use him?
“Should I move?”
He'd traveled through many countries and met plenty of people making greedy offers.
He knew well that their greed had no end, and that he couldn't satisfy them.
His father had already left, anyway, so there was no reason Tarmin couldn't leave as well.
Though this was the hometown where he'd grown up, and there were a few acquaintances he'd miss, he could always write to them.
And then there was Enya.
Thinking, Enya again, he arrived in front of his house.
**
Wanting to finish the conversation that had ended in violence last time, he went to Enya's house first.
“Enya. Are you home?”
There was no sign of her. She must have gone somewhere.
Thinking he'd stop by again later, he headed back to his own house.
He passed the workbench he hardly used anymore and headed for the door.
He opened it and went inside, taking off his coat.
He unstrung his bow and leaned it against the wardrobe.
He hung his coat on the hook fixed to the wall beside the door.
He took off the belt with the hand axe hanging from it.
As he removed his gear in the familiar routine he'd repeated for years, he spotted Enya slumped over the table.
“Whoa, you scared me.”
Had she fallen asleep just like that, face down? Her loosely tied blonde hair lay still.
Amused by how startled he'd been, he picked a needless fight with the sleeping Enya.
“Hey, do you not even know where your own house is anymore? Hm?”
Now dressed in his everyday clothes, Tarmin walked over to the table.
Since he was at it, he decided to tease her one more time.
“Miss, if you sleep somewhere like this, you'll wake up with a crooked mouth. Wake up.”
No matter how tired she was, autumn nights were too cold to sleep through without a blanket.
When she didn't stir at his call, he went over, took her by the shoulder, and gently shook her.
“Are you asleep?”
Her head rolled to the side, revealing Enya's sleeping face.
Between strands of hair stuck to her with sweat, she breathed with difficulty.
Her shoulder felt damp in his grip, and he saw that even her clothes were soaked with sweat.
Alarmed, he put a hand to Enya's forehead.
It was hot.
Like the blood of a hunted animal.
“Enya!”
His first thought was, ‘Why?’ But there was no time to think.
He immediately scooped Enya into his arms and rushed out.
She hung limp in his embrace.
He needed to go to a doctor's house, but he couldn't remember where it was.
She'd never been sick, so he'd never needed to know.
Maybe it was near the inner city.
That was only a naive guess: surely it would be near the inner city.
Was it safe to expose a patient in such a dangerous state to the autumn wind?
He could just bring the doctor here. What an idiot.
Then would Enya be all right on her own until he got back?
“Go home.”
As he stood there, unable to decide what to do, he heard Enya's voice.
She spoke from his arms, as if she'd come to her senses.
“In the pot, there's medicine….”
Still holding Enya, he ran to her house.
The moment he opened the door, he found the bed and laid Enya down.
Tarmin disliked the house intensely.
It was too cold for a patient to rest in.
They needed a fire. No, medicine first.
He went toward the kitchen and saw a pot hanging from a hook, simmering over the hearth.
It was the pot that was always boiling in her house.
When he lifted the lid, the sweet smell grew stronger.
He saw a thick, sticky, earthy-brown liquid bubbling gently.
He'd thought she was cooking something like stew, but apparently the pot that boiled every day held her medicine.
He took a suitable bowl from the stack, spooned some into it, and carried it to Enya.
She was still on the bed in the same position Tarmin had laid her in.
He set the medicine down at the corner of the bed, pulled out the blanket beneath her, covered her with it, and tucked a pillow under her head.
Once he confirmed she was in a somewhat comfortable position, he picked up the bowl.
He scooped up some medicine and brought it to her lips; Enya parted them slightly.
The medicine seemed to cling to the spoon, refusing to fall, but slowly disappeared into her mouth.
He watched Enya struggle to swallow the medicine she'd held in her mouth.
He scooped up more and brought it to her mouth. Enya opened her mouth and swallowed the medicine that trickled in.
He brought it to her mouth again, and the medicine trickled in.
“Cough! Cough!”
Enya coughed as she drank the medicine.
He wiped her mouth, now a mess from the splattered medicine, with his sleeve.
“Huu….”
Then he fed her the medicine again.
The wooden spoon scraping against the bowl.
The sound of Enya swallowing medicine.
Each time she failed to swallow properly and it dribbled down, he wiped it with his sleeve.
After repeating this many times, the bowl was finally empty.
He checked on Enya, who lay there after drinking all the medicine.
She seemed more comfortable than before.
When he noticed movement and looked over, she was trembling slightly.
The air was frozen.
She needed warmth.
Looking around the bedroom, he saw the extinguished fireplace.
He threw in the firewood stacked in the corner and grabbed the flint.
He laid some kindling down and struck the flint, but couldn't get a fire going at all.
What good was the Evil Bow if he couldn't even light a fire properly?
Even Tarmin's body was trembling, and then he remembered the pot boiling in the kitchen.
He ran to the kitchen to check.
A burning stone lay beneath the pot.
A red stone engraved with incomprehensible characters was burning.
Tarmin had seen the stone used many times during their travels, so he knew what it was.
A witch's tool.
He picked up the burning stone.
He carried it into the bedroom and shoved it into the fireplace.
He waited, but the fire wouldn't catch, and it was infuriating.
He swore, then realized he'd put in too much wood and pulled out the top pieces.
Give me heat.
Please.
I don't care if the whole house burns down, just give off heat.
**
After what felt like an eternity, the fire grew, brightening the room.
He let out a sigh of relief.
Feeling the fireplace's intense heat, he checked on Enya.
He placed a hand on her forehead.
Her fever seemed to have gone down somewhat.
Even so, her body kept trembling.
When Tarmin lifted the blanket, he realized Enya was still wearing her wet clothes.
He needed to wipe off the sweat.
Scolding himself for being an idiot, he looked around the bedroom.
He found a stack of towels in one corner of the bedroom.
He took one towel to the kitchen and dampened it with water.
He stacked the towels on the bed and helped Enya sit up.
“Enya. I'm going to wipe you down now.”
Her eyes were half-open, but she seemed dazed.
She didn't answer, but there was no time to wait for her consent.
Having been pulled from beneath the blanket and sat up, she was trembling even more.
“Raise your arms.”
He pulled her white shirt up and off. Fortunately, she cooperated.
After struggling to remove her heavy, sweat-soaked clothes and then her undergarments, he revealed her pale, bare body.
Her pale body, with fine veins standing out across her chest, looked even more frail.
He didn't have the courage to look at her from the front, so he moved behind her.
Her slender, smooth back, without a blemish, was embarrassing enough, but it was better than facing her.
He drew a breath, then placed the damp towel against her back.
“Ugh! Ah…”
When the towel slid down the hollow of her spine, she let out a small moan.
“W-wait. Does it hurt?”
Was the towel too rough?
He froze in alarm, and Enya gave a small shake of her head.
Relieved, he continued wiping her down.
The sooner he finished, the more comfortable she'd be.
After wiping her back with the damp towel, he wiped around her neck.
He ran it down both arms from near her neck.
“Can you raise your arms again?”
Enya obediently raised both arms.
He wiped down her inner arms and underarms.
Then he moved to Enya's front.
From her waist to her stomach.
From her navel to beneath her breasts.
“Ngh…”
“S-sorry.”
When Tarmin's breath touched her neck, Enya flinched violently.
He'd chosen this method so he could wipe her without looking at her front, but he'd ended up burying his nose against her neck by accident.
Even after sweating so much.
Maybe because of the sweet medicine from the pot, her scent was still fragrant.
**
Enya was sleeping soundly.
She breathed softly, as if the past few hours of trembling in pain and drenched in sweat had all been a lie.
Her fever had subsided and her color had returned, but Tarmin couldn't stop worrying about how cold Enya's hand was.
“Don't die.”
Sitting beside her head, Tarmin held Enya's hand and kept murmuring those words.
Don't die.