🔊 TTS Settings
~Chapter 62~
Honestly, I had always felt confused whenever I looked at Frida. My feelings toward her were sometimes sudden and overwhelmingly intense, and I often couldn’t find a reason for them. But now, my mind had cleared like a sky after rain, completely cloudless. She had become the third person belonging to Daniel Reinhardt, following Ricardo and Dominic. Once Frida wakes up, I must tell her. That she had been in the corner of a fourteen-year-old boy’s memory long ago. Perhaps we were destined to end up like this from the very beginning.
As Daniel continued to moisten her lips with a wet towel, Frida slowly parted her lips. The tiny drops of water slid into her throat with a soft swallow. Putting down the towel, Daniel gently caressed the crown of her head, as if touching a dewdrop that could burst at the slightest touch.
“Frida. Are you coming back to your senses?”
There was no response, but her eyelids twitched faintly. Carefully, Daniel cupped Frida’s cheeks and stroked beneath her eyes.
“Can you hear my voice?”
Her eyelids, which had opened like a clam, slowly lifted. Her long, white lashes, once clumped together, separated and framed her violet pupils. Daniel observed every moment of her regaining consciousness, not missing a single detail. The unfocused violet eyes that looked at him and then closed weakly brought a sense of déjà vu. It was the same as the day he found her asleep in the Brabant Hall library.
As before, her eyelids gradually fell shut again, unable to stay open, and then her lips parted.
“Daniel…”
It was just one word—her name—spoken in a fragile, barely-there voice, like a candle about to go out. Yet, the moment she called his name, knowing that he was the first person she sought upon regaining consciousness brought Daniel an exhilarating thrill that sent shivers down his spine. He wrapped her delicate hand resting on his chest and whispered softly into her ear:
“Say it. I’m here.”
Frida slowly opened her eyes and swallowed dryly.
“I… I’m thirsty.”
Daniel poured water into the glass on the nightstand and supported the back of her neck as he asked:
“Can you sit up?”
She tried to nod, but her neck had no strength.
“Just a moment.”
Without hesitation, he lifted her lips and let water flow gently into her mouth. Gulp, gulp. Frida swallowed the water without resistance, letting it slide down her throat. She didn’t push him away; she let him linger for as long as he wanted. Once he had finished giving her all the water, Daniel wiped the sweat from her forehead and asked tenderly:
“Do you want more?”
Once her thirst was quenched, Frida shook her head, regaining some energy. Daniel kept speaking as he watched her eyes gradually focus.
“Do you want to sleep a little longer?”
Frida shook her head more clearly and met his gaze. Seeing the red veins in her eyes, his chest ached. He felt ashamed that he had even thought of the situation as not unpleasant. To think he had thought that way while she was struggling so much.
Frida spoke haltingly:
“Was… I very sick?”
Yes, she had been. Daniel had worried, wondering if she might never wake up, thinking through every possible next step. He forced a weak smile and wiped the water from her lips.
“It’s fine now. You woke up.”
He kept touching the slightly swollen skin around her eyes, silently warning her not to close them again.
“What else can I do for you, Frida?”
If the reason she was sick was, as the doctor said, because of relaxed tension, perhaps he thought about never letting her relax again. Maybe he wanted to put her to sleep every day so she wouldn’t let her guard down—but he could no longer do that. He had to see her like this. But anything else, whatever she wanted, he would do for her.
“Tell me. Even something small, anything at all.”
So that he could shake off this maddening anxiety. So he wouldn’t lose himself. So he could survive watching the weak you ride out your ordeal, unimpeded by Rosivalt, who didn’t stop you, or the incompetent doctor who couldn’t bring down your fever for a week. Or anyone else. Whenever a murderous impulse rose during the week she hadn’t regained consciousness, he endured it thinking of only this moment: when she opened her eyes, looked at him, and spoke to him. So come on, say something. Please.
“Daniel…”
When she called him, the rage that had welled up uncontrollably in him finally paused at his throat. Clearing his voice, Daniel smiled faintly.
“Say it.”
“I… I feel frustrated.”
Blushing, her face still warm from fever, she smiled weakly at him.
“Take me… to the room with the terrace.”
Her face, already thin from days of illness, looked even more gaunt, yet unbearably beautiful.
“The stars… I want to see them.”
Daniel immediately nodded.
A full moon hung in the sky without a single cloud. It shone so brightly that even Frida, who saw the world turn to darkness at night, could make it out. The two of them ascended to the fifth-floor room, being prepared as the new bedroom for the Duchess, and stepped onto the terrace. Although summer was near, the wind carried a faint chill from the Altas Mountains. Daniel wrapped Frida again with his robe, perhaps worried that the blanket alone wasn’t enough.
“Aren’t you cold?”
“It’s cool, I like it. I feel alive.”
When Frida pulled the blanket down to her chin, Daniel replaced it over her.
“The mountain wind is still chilly. Keep it on.”
Stretching her legs on the chaise lounge, Frida lay against Daniel’s chest like a child. Though the chaise was long enough for her, it was too short for him. Sitting with his knees bent, Daniel adjusted her so she could lie comfortably. He touched her forehead and neck—her fever had finally broken. During the climb to the fifth floor, her consciousness had fully returned, and her complexion brightened. And perhaps because of the full moon, her mood seemed considerably lifted.
She reached out from the blanket and pointed to somewhere in the black sky.
“Daniel, are there stars over there?”
They weren’t exactly visible, but a faint glimmer hung in the darkness. Daniel held her hand firmly and moved it slightly to the right.
“Not there, here. That’s the Eagle Star,” he said.
“The Eagle Star? Why?”
Her hair brushed against Daniel’s chin as she turned to him. Daniel buried his face into her damp hair, overwhelmed by the scent of her living presence.
“The king of the ancient gods ascended to the sky and became that star. If he finds a maiden he likes, he sometimes descends to earth in the form of an eagle and carries her away.”
“Really? Is that true?”
Her recovering voice was thin and trembled, but it didn’t matter. Even hearing this fractured voice again was precious. If he could never hear it again… Daniel embraced her tightly and rested his head on her shoulder. His chest ached and blood seemed to pour down from his whole body, as if sucked under a frozen lake.
‘So this is what it feels like to have your tension released.’
He held her tighter, amused and frightened by this newfound realization.
“Don’t look at the sky, Frida.”
Daniel turned her head to face him.
“The eagle might come to take you away.”
He wasn’t afraid of fighting the king of the gods. What he feared was the days when she wasn’t by his side… Now, he truly feared it. Daniel’s gaze clung to her like air thick with moisture. His calm, composed expression was as always, but every now and then, an inexplicable sadness peeked through. Frida couldn’t understand the source of his fear. What could possibly frighten this man?
“Why… are you looking at me like that?”
“How am I looking?”
“Like… like something might actually happen…”
Perhaps guessing her unfinished thought, his lips parted, and a soft breeze-like sound escaped.
“Exactly. If the eagle comes to fetch you, I’d better prepare myself—it’s a bit scary.”
It sounded like a joke, yet somehow it didn’t feel like one. He wasn’t one to play silly pranks, so why did this feel different?
“That’s just a legend, isn’t it?”
“Right. Just a legend.”
Daniel brushed the wind-tossed strands of her hair aside and smiled.
“But just in case, if you see the eagle, avoid it. You can hide behind me if you want.”
Had Daniel always been like this? Frida discovered a playful side to her husband, though his lonely eyes still lingered on her mind.
“Daniel, are you okay?”
Though she had been sick for days, Daniel seemed more fragile. Hearing her question, he smiled, raising the corners of his eyes.
“You’re asking if I’m okay right now?”
He laughed softly, almost asking ‘with this appearance?’ as he touched her pale cheek. Seeing him smile eased her tension.
The more time she spent with her husband, the more she realized what an unpredictable man he was. Polite and kind one moment, cold the next. When she tried to keep her distance, he pressed closer with warmth. Unpredictable, endlessly complex. When she first saw him, he seemed like a sturdy tree, rooted firmly, unshakeable. Even the three years she spent lying unconscious had felt that way. Yet now, he looked strangely fragile.
“Ah…”
Suddenly, a wave of dizziness hit her.
“Lean on me if it’s hard.”
Frowning slightly, Frida collapsed onto Daniel’s chest. Like a newborn, she nestled against him. She wanted nothing but to rest in the warmth of his broad chest. Pressing her cheek against him, she felt the steady, strong thump of his heart. Her touch made his pulse tremble visibly. This man was truly… different.
Daniel brushed her hair back and whispered softly:
“I’m not okay.”
