HSLF 11

Chapter 11

“Why are you hitting me?”
Ryle asked without stopping Dorothy’s punches. Annoyed by his calmness, Dorothy shouted,
“What does it matter if it hurts now? I’m going to die anyway! Whether I die from poison or from being beaten, it’s the same thing!”

Ryle looked at her with a confused expression.
“Who’s going to die?”
“You are, Ryle!”
“When did I ever say that? I said you’d collapse, not that you’d die.”
“Are you playing word games with me? That’s basically the same thing!”

Frowning, Dorothy struck Ryle a few more times.
“That hurts,” he said.

Ignoring her rough protests, Ryle stopped the horse under the shade of a large tree.
“Excuse me.”

Then, with a strength so firm it was hard to believe someone with such a pale complexion could possess it, he lifted Dorothy off the horse. Startled, she instinctively braced herself but quickly grew irritated. In the middle of almost dying, manners seemed absurd. Unfazed by Dorothy’s scowl, Ryle explained calmly,
“I said you’d collapse, not that you’d die. And you won’t lose consciousness for long—probably less than half a day. What I want to discuss now is what you, Dorothy, will need to do from here on.”

“What I need to do?”
“Yes. I imagine this situation is overwhelming for you. A sudden ambush in the mountains—any ordinary noblewoman would likely have fainted from shock.”

Ryle spoke at length, laying the groundwork for what he was about to say. Dorothy grew increasingly uneasy.

“So, Dorothy,” he continued.
“Yes?”
“If I collapse, it would be best for you to ride this horse back to the Serin Count’s estate.”

Dorothy stared at him, dumbfounded.
“By now, the assassins should have given up and left. Since the carriage hasn’t returned, the Count’s estate would have sent people. If you ride back along the path we came, you’ll be able to return safely.”

What on earth is this madman saying? She had never heard such a cold, unreasonable conclusion—even during the endless bickering with the Barbarin siblings, nothing this absurd had ever come up.

“Wait, are you telling me to leave you behind if you collapse?”
Dorothy cautiously repeated what Ryle had just said.
“And you really think that’s my responsibility going forward?”

Just to make sure she hadn’t misheard.
“Yes,” Ryle replied immediately.

Wow… she hadn’t misheard. He really said that! Dorothy glared at him sharply, and Ryle asked quietly,
“Is there a problem?”
“Plenty of problems.”

Dorothy crossed her arms defiantly, giving him a crooked look.
“First of all, do I look that untrustworthy to you?”

She had never seen someone hold such a negative bias against her in her life. How could he assume she would abandon someone in pain? She had never once been called disloyal, and anyone who knew her well would never say such a thing. Clearly, the problem was Ryle, not her. Despite his mysterious eyes, they were clearly narrowed in error. Dorothy voiced her frustration.
“I’m disappointed that you see me that way.”
“That wasn’t my intention…”
“Secondly, what if I refuse?”

She spoke firmly, staring into Ryle’s deep green eyes.
“You saved me once already, didn’t you? The person who rescued me is unconscious, and now you want me to abandon him? That’s utterly ungrateful. I won’t do it.”

Ryle said nothing.
“If you collapse, I’ll make sure you’re laid down safely and stay with you until you wake up. Don’t worry. You may be huge and reckless, but I can handle it properly. Isn’t that the responsible thing for an adult to do?”

Dorothy spoke lightly, but the thought of moving a passed-out Ryle alone was daunting. She realized she needed to find a place to lay him down safely before he collapsed completely.

“So… we should at least get somewhere to rest… right? Ryle? Ryle!”

Dorothy froze as his weight suddenly pressed against her.
“This isn’t fair! It hasn’t even been ten minutes!”

She tried desperately to push him away, but it was impossible to resist the weight of a man collapsing onto her chest.
“Ryle! Get up!”

She managed to drape his right arm over her right shoulder and his left arm over her left, but all they could do was cling to each other. How could she move such a heavy man?

Had she just made a huge mistake, claiming she could handle this? Maybe that’s why Ryle suggested she leave him behind!

“Sorry, I take it back—I can’t just become an irresponsible, untrustworthy person… ugh!”

Dorothy hugged the man she couldn’t abandon in despair.

The night surrounded by trees was far from cozy.

While the warm daytime forest had been kind, the cold night had no such manners. Dorothy sniffled as she brushed her arms repeatedly. Perfect conditions for catching a cold.

Although she liked lying on the ground to watch the stars, finding faint stars through clouds was tedious. Bored with stargazing, she sat up.

Even the slightest rustle of movement sounded loud in the quiet forest. As Dorothy settled, a low groaning came from beside her.

Ryle, unconscious, had groaned a few times. Each time, Dorothy thought he might be waking, but clearly pain and consciousness were separate issues. He’d wake when ready. She ignored it.

She stared at the crackling fire, warming her hands, lost in thought. After a while, a voice called her name.

“…Dorothy?”

She smiled at the embarrassment in the low, hoarse voice.
“Did you sleep well?”

She was relieved; she had worried about him staying unconscious.
“You should be grateful I once traveled through Wardile.”
“This place…?”
“If I hadn’t learned how to make fire back then, what would we have done?”

Dorothy felt proud, recalling the survival skills she had learned on her Wardile journey—making fire from twigs, gathering dry leaves, tending a campfire. If you lived as a city noble, you wouldn’t naturally know these skills.

She had even practiced with a guide to prepare for getting lost in the rough Wardile forests. Although she had once thought it excessive, Ryle’s foresight proved invaluable. She decided to praise him when they returned home.

“I’m glad I’m with you,” she said with a smile.

Ryle, still dazed, stared back without replying. She had done well. As he tried to sit up, he furrowed his brow and rubbed the back of his head.

Ah, he already noticed.
“Do you have a bump on the back of your head?” she asked.

Ryle looked at her.
“It happened when I hit a rock. I bumped you while moving you here. Sorry.”

She continued explaining.
“But there’s no bleeding. Your head is really hard—like a rock. Heavy.”
“…I see.”
“Yes, and you might notice a wound on the back of your hand too.”

Ryle looked down. A red scratch ran across his hand, slightly raised, as if it had bled a little.
“That bled a bit,” Dorothy added, rolling her eyes.
“It was a long, thorny plant. I didn’t see it, and it scratched you. But with some ointment, it won’t leave a scar.”

“And you also bumped your back against a tree twice…”

Listening to Dorothy’s calm briefing of his injuries, Ryle finally asked with a trace of humor,
“You said I could handle it myself, yet I have so many injuries while I was unconscious.”

“That’s because I didn’t know how heavy you are,” Dorothy brazenly excused herself.
“Honestly, you should be glad it’s only that bad. I had a tough time keeping you safe—especially when they came looking for us.”

“?”
“Yes, shortly after you collapsed, they came here to find us. But I’m good at hiding, so we avoided them. Not exactly something to brag about, but I am skilled at hide-and-seek.”

Sure enough, black-clad men had started searching through the forest shortly after Ryle fell. Clearly, remnants of the assassins were following them. Dorothy had covered herself with grass and lay beside Ryle, and they managed to avoid detection.

“…I see now. That explains why we’re still here,” he said, a faint note of understanding in his voice.