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~Chapter 76~
Ethan bit down hard on his lower lip, trying to wrench free, but Riden clutched his hand tightly.
“No! We can’t stop halfway now that we’ve started!”
At her cry, Ethan’s face twisted, and he forced his eyes open.
“Just stay like this a little longer. I think we have to.”
Looking down at her, he squeezed his eyes shut again.
[Take a deep breath, and push that breath all the way to your partner’s fingertips where your hands are joined.]
Riden recalled the passage she had read.
A deep breath, right? Fill your lungs, then…
“Fwoo…”
As she exhaled slowly, she imagined her breath being pushed all the way to her fingertips.
“Gasp—!”
But it didn’t feel like her breath was leaving her body.
It felt as though the breath leaving her was being drawn straight into Ethan’s body.
“Ah…!”
Suddenly, Ethan collapsed toward her in a convulsion, knocking his sword far out of reach.
On his knees, chin barely hooked on her shoulder, he gasped for breath.
“Haah… what—what are you doing…”
His chest heaved as if he could barely breathe.
His weight pressed down on her, threatening to break her focus. Riden clenched her eyes shut.
“Just hold on a little longer.”
Then, the very hand that had tried to escape suddenly gripped hers fiercely.
His other hand slid free from her grasp to seize her wrist.
Like climbing a ladder, Ethan’s long fingers slipped under her sleeve and crawled up her arm.
Scary!
She trembled. Something was clearly wrong.
This wasn’t how the process in the book had described it.
Finally, his weight toppled her completely.
The chair tipped under them, and she rolled to the floor with him.
“Your Grace, wait—just a moment!”
Her scarf tangled around her face as they fell.
“Ugh—damn thing!”
Snatching it off in irritation, Riden finally saw his face.
“Make it stop—whatever’s raging inside me—please…”
Sweat‑damp hair clung messily to his temple beside desperate eyes.
Seeing his disheveled state jolted her back into focus.
[After pushing your breath into them, guide it. Imagine running swiftly through straight passages, then slowing and smoothing through narrow, winding ones.]
If she stopped now, it might end badly for him.
I have to do this right.
As she recalled the instructions, Ethan burrowed closer, as if there were some deeper place to go.
His face pressed insistently into her bared neck where the scarf had fallen away.
His hot breath burned against her skin, his eyes squeezed shut in agony.
When she first held his hand, it had only stung like static.
Now, every point of contact seared like fire.
He burned like a brazier freshly stoked with wood, pushing for more contact.
No more hesitation.
When his fevered cheek brushed her jaw, Riden pushed her breath into him again.
He convulsed, gasping as though it were unbearable.
“Ha… please.”
The first time, she had simply released her breath inside him.
This time, she held it fast, determined to guide it.
His body resisted, her breath writhing wildly inside as if trying to break free.
Gritting her teeth, she directed it—through his throat, his shoulders, his chest.
Then his grip sharpened, fingers digging into her soft arm.
“Ow—it hurts, Your Grace… it hurts…”
Don’t hurt me! I’m losing focus!
His fingers were thick and unyielding.
Yet even in agony, perhaps he heard her plea.
He stilled—then, instead of her skin, tore at the loose lace of her sleeve.
Riden forced herself back to the breath.
His heartbeat pounded so loud she thought it might burst through his chest and fall into her hands.
Pity tightened her throat as she stroked his heart with her breath, trying to soothe the wild pounding.
It was a strange sensation.
Though her cheek and arm were the only places they touched, it felt as though she held his heart itself.
As time passed, his frantic pulse slowed.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Do you feel any better now?”
His voice, strained but more lucid, came like a plea.
“A little… haah… but don’t let go yet. I don’t know why, but you mustn’t.”
“I won’t. I’ll stay like this until you’re better.”
At her words, he bowed his head in shame, like a man guilty of a grave sin.
Because on her wrist, he saw the marks he had left.
The skin was scratched and reddened.
“…I hurt you. I’m sorry.”
Flustered, he bumped his forehead lightly against her shoulder, again and again, like a lost child.
Riden listened to the sound of his heart.
What had been thrashing wildly was finally settling back into rhythm.
Is it over? Did it work?
“Whatever it was… I think it’s gone. You did well.”
“Ah—no, not yet!”
His sudden urgency startled a laugh from her, though she hid it.
“I didn’t mean I was leaving. I’ll stay. I’m not finished either.”
She hadn’t been taught, but instinct told her.
Inside him, there were still residues—crackling impurities like static, sparking deep within.
So she sent her breath to gnaw them away bit by bit.
“Haa… haah…”
Each time, he exhaled in rough, tired breaths, but far less desperate now.
The sensation of moving through every corner of him was indescribable.
About thirty minutes passed.
Riden stroked his broad back.
“Almost there. Just a little more.”
Exhausted, he only managed a faint nod.
At last, in the deepest place, she felt it—something dense and coiled, like a sticky, round skein of thread, crouched like a black serpent.
I have to remove that.
Gathering the last of her strength, she pushed her breath toward it.
Suddenly, his body convulsed violently.
A tremor seized him, his eyes lost focus, and he collapsed fully onto her.
“Your Grace?”
“……”
“Ethan?”
Why no answer?
Panic gripped her chest.
Forgetting to guide her breath, she listened.
What… is this?
She thought she had failed—until she heard it.
The soft, steady sound of him sleeping.
The great man lay on top of her like a child.
So it ends here today.
She gazed at his face.
So close, she could see the boy he must have been.
You look like an angel when you sleep.
Like soothing a fussy baby, she stroked his back.
It was strange. His body was large and strong, yet somehow he felt terribly frail.
Her heart ached. She wished, like that first day, that he could finally sleep in peace.
“You did so well. You endured so well.”
She whispered the words like a spell, patting his broad back.
For both him and herself.
Half‑lost to sleep, Ethan heard her murmur.
You endured well…
Perhaps it was being treated like a child that made his chest ache.
He wanted to rise, but no strength came to his limbs.
Just a little longer like this…
For the first time in ages, he felt he might dream again.
