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Chapter 16
Enoch laid bare his true feelings, like a sinner making a confession before a priest.
“Whether it was when I was young, locked in fierce competition with my brothers, or on the battlefield after losing my comrades, there was never anyone who told me, that’s enough. Because of that, I never really learned how to stop at the right time or rein myself in.”
I listened quietly to his confession.
Through Margaret’s memories, I already knew how painfully he had clawed his way up to the position of crown prince.
Until now, Enoch had never had any brakes. And there had been no one to ask if he was exhausted, no one to tell him that he’d already done well enough.
On top of that, the suffering he endured after the war was a kind of trauma—but there had been no one to help him heal it.
“As I said earlier, it’s an aftereffect that appeared after the war. The memories of losing so many comrades at the Battle of Romalizan were so intense that the sight of blood sends me into a frenzy. Minor wounds are fine, though.”
It seemed that small injuries didn’t trigger his episodes. That, at least, was a relief.
“Until now, no one has been able to control my condition without equipment or drugs. You’re the first, Margaret.”
All I’d done was tell him that it was okay.
In the original story, Yuanna had resolved this issue through physical intimacy. Now that I saw it up close, it didn’t seem like a fundamental solution to his trauma at all.
Choosing my words carefully, I spoke to him.
“I understand the situation. I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but I’ll do my best. Still, avoiding situations where you might see blood should come first.”
Enoch nodded obediently.
“I’ll do that. And… I’m sorry, Margaret.”
“Stop apologizing. I know it’s not your fault.”
At my words, Enoch fell silent again, his expression heavy.
He pushed the broken wooden stick aside and absentmindedly rummaged through the first-aid kit beside me.
“Which medicine is for wounds?”
Medicine for wounds? Was he injured somewhere else?
Startled, I hurriedly searched the kit and pulled out an ointment. I was about to say I’d apply it for him, but Enoch smoothly took it from my hand.
“Strange-looking medicine, no matter how many times I see it.”
Muttering as he examined the tube of Fucidin, Enoch knelt on one knee in front of me. He opened the cap, squeezed some ointment onto his finger, and leaned closer.
When I flinched back in surprise, Enoch frowned and looked at me.
“Wh-what is it?”
“Shouldn’t we apply some here as well?”
Enoch gently spread the ointment over my cheekbone.
His face was so close that I unconsciously held my breath.
Despite how forcefully he’d approached earlier, the hand brushing over my wound was incredibly gentle.
Strictly speaking, Fucidin wasn’t meant for bruises—but I didn’t point that out. Enoch looked utterly focused on what he was doing.
Somehow, it felt like I shouldn’t break the moment.
I couldn’t honestly say there was no ulterior motive. With a face this handsome right in front of me, how could I not quietly admire it?
“Ah—!”
When his finger grazed a deeper cut, a sharp sting shot through me and I frowned.
“What did that man do this time?”
Enoch asked with deadly seriousness, as if he really would have killed Kaiden on the spot if he’d been standing there. Why was he suddenly being so dramatic?
“That’s all. I kicked him and ran away. Then I tripped over a rock, passed out, and when I woke up, it was morning.”
As I continued, Enoch’s lips twitched, as though there were countless things he wanted to point out.
In the end, though, the only words he spoke were:
“Until we escape this island, it would be best if you don’t move around alone.”
I nodded meekly.
“I won’t.”
Of course, that was a lie.
Now that I’d encountered Kaiden, I couldn’t feel safe just staying by Enoch’s side.
I needed to find at least some clue about the bunker’s location—and fast.
