Crossed Minds

Theorad did not open his eyes until the gray light of dawn.

For a moment he simply stared ahead, his eyes dull and unfocused. Then he looked down at the elf lying in the sickbed beside him.

Color had returned to her face. Her breathing was soft and steady.

He could scarcely bear to believe it.

“...Viscount Theorad.”

His hand trembled at the voice.

Slowly, almost fearfully, he turned toward Rastain. Beneath her rose-pink hair, her sea-blue eyes were fixed on him with unmistakable concern.

To Theorad, the radiance that had once concealed her face was entirely gone. He did not even notice.

“Saintess...”

“Yes. I'm Rastain. You asked for my help through Professor Roylen. We came here to treat the Quarantined Night.”

“Then... I...”

His voice shook so badly he could not finish.

Rastain watched him in silence. What could she possibly say to someone who might have wandered alone within another person's consciousness longer than an ordinary human lifetime?

At last she chose her words.

“You really have come back,” she said, offering a small, uncertain smile. “This isn't the patient's consciousness anymore. You aren't in that empty abyss. You're in the real world.”

The real world.

Theorad let out a long, unsteady breath. A tear slipped down his cheek.

Rastain watched him cry without a sound. She pressed her lips together.

“How long were you inside her consciousness?” she asked gently.

“I'm sorry. I don't know.”

He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand.

“I couldn't even guess how much time had passed. That frightens me.”

The words came slowly at first, then faster.

“I wandered through a world where there was no one else. I was trying to find my way back through her past, trying to reach the part of the elf that had been trapped.”

His expression tightened.

“And then I started forgetting things.”

He swallowed.

“First it was people's voices. I couldn't remember the voices of those dear to me, no matter how hard I tried. I told myself it would be all right. Once I came back, I could hear them again.”

It had been a foolish comfort.

“But the forgetting kept coming. I was terrified I'd lose their faces as well. So I drew them. Everyone I could remember.”

His father. The elf. Ashley. Benelia. Leonberg. Beynon. Havid. Dremes. Pares. Fred. Marhan. Roylen. Rastain. And the countless faces belonging to the household's family members and enslaved people.

“I thought if I looked at the portraits every day, I'd never forget them. Years passed, and it seemed to work. I was arrogant enough to believe it would still work after decades.”

But the memories behind those faces had begun to fade.

Laughter. Pride. Happiness. Small moments he had once treasured. One by one, they lost their shape.

In desperation, Theorad had gathered sheets of paper and written down everything he could recall. He bound those pages into a book and read it again and again.

It had seemed a sensible way to protect what remained.

Then one day a question had come to him.

Were these people truly precious to me?

The words on the pages no longer felt like his own memories. They might as well have been the diary of a stranger. He could read them perfectly and feel nothing.

Even the reasons for his journey began to lose their meaning.

What am I doing here?

Why must I save the elf?

Why must I keep walking through this endless world?

He had wanted to stop.

He had wanted the suffering to end, even if the only escape was death.

And still he had gone on, held back from that final surrender by a sentence he had written at the very end of his book:

Death doesn't end with the person who dies.

There are people waiting for you on the other side. If you die here, you'll leave them to blame themselves.

Can you abandon the elf who gave her life to save yours, merely because you want to rest?

He had written those words when he could still remember why he cared. Later, when his memories had become hollow, he had been unable to refute them.

So he had forced his exhausted self onward.

In the end, he had found the elf.

And he had brought her back.

“Saintess.”

Rastain looked up.

“I rescued her. I'm here again. I don't know whether it's the aftereffects of returning, but I can remember everything clearly now. My memories feel like my own. Even the feelings I thought I'd lost have come back.”

He paused.

“But no one else can know what happened. I doubt even you can say how long I was lost. There's something I'd like to ask you.”

Rastain nodded.

She thought she understood. Such a sacrifice deserved honor. If he wished her to testify to his endurance, she would gladly put the authority of the saintess behind his words.

She had never expected his actual request.

“Please keep it a secret that I was lost inside the elf's consciousness.”

Rastain stared at him.

After surviving such an ordeal to save another person, he wanted her to tell no one?

“I've already made everyone worry enough,” Theorad continued. “I don't want to trouble them any further. I don't want the people who care for me to suffer over what I went through.”

He reached toward the bed and gently laid his hand over the elf's.

Her skin was warm now.

He smiled faintly.

“Please. Don't tell anyone—not even her—how much it hurt.”

For a time Rastain could find no answer.

She had met devout and generous believers throughout her life. She had never met anyone who made such a request after paying so high a price.

She did not fully understand him. But she could respect his choice.

“Very well,” she said, bowing her head. “I swear before the God of Light that what happened will remain between us.”

“Thank you.”

Theorad inclined his head and stood. Exhaustion weighed on him so heavily that he could hardly remain in the chair another moment.

Rastain did not try to detain him. She watched him walk toward the door.

Theorad Deharem...

She no longer wondered whether the God of Light truly favored him.

If the God of Light does not favor a man like you, then perhaps the Church of Balance has been worshiping a false god.

Rastain made up her mind.

She would support Theorad. Those who followed the saintess would lend strength to his choices, because he was a man worthy of it.

---

“Viscount Theorad!”

Roylen came hurrying toward him as soon as he stepped outside.

“Did the treatment succeed?”

“...Yes.”

“I knew it! I knew you would manage it.” Roylen's relief was plain. “But if you aren't too tired, could I have just a moment?”

Theorad wanted nothing more than to return to his room and sleep. Still, he stopped.

“For a little while. What is it?”

“Lady Ashley has arrived at the villa. I thought you might wish to see her before you retire.”

Theorad caught Roylen by the shoulders.

“Ashley is here?”

“Y-yes. It seems she left as soon as she received the secret letter. She's waiting in the temporary drawing room—”

Theorad was already moving.

He hurried down the corridor, took the stairs as quickly as his exhausted legs would allow, and reached the first-floor sitting room.

Then he stopped.

Ashley sat beside the central table, staring into a cup of tea. Her usually immaculate hair was disheveled, the hem of her dress creased. Even from the doorway he could see the traces of tears beneath her eyes.

How terribly she must have worried.

Theorad tried to steady his voice.

“Ashley...”

Her head came up.

For an instant she only stared. Then she gasped and sprang to her feet so hastily that she stumbled, leaving one shoe behind.

She did not notice.

“Theorad...?”

Her blue eyes filled again. She hurried toward him, then seemed to remember the people around them and tried to regain her composure.

“I'm so relieved. I was afraid you'd been hurt. I...”

Her voice broke.

Theorad stepped forward and gathered her into his arms.

He lowered his head against her hair, holding her close.

“I missed you. I wanted to see you. So very much.” The words came softly as they held each other.

Her face twisted as her voice failed.

There were servants watching. She was expected to become the next head of House Pelgaroin; she knew perfectly well how a noblewoman should behave before them.

But she had spent too long being afraid.

She could no longer hold back her tears.

Ashley sobbed openly and clung to Theorad, begging him never to leave her again.

For the moment, neither dignity nor propriety mattered.