Cloé stared at the man lying limply on the bed.

Though she loved silence, the current oppressive quietness surrounding her was unbearable. She hoped that her companion would wake up and speak soon. As usual, with his arrogant voice, uttering beautiful words that didn’t match him…

The doctor reassured Cloé, saying that Kun’s momentary unconsciousness was nothing to worry about. Just as she expected, even for a minor incident, she would fret for days.

She was a sharp-witted woman. As she anticipated, Cloé spent a day and a half waiting by the bedside, rejecting the consideration of aides and knights who offered to help with nursing.

Cloé, as she did on the battlefield four years ago, wiped away the moisture from the wet towel and carefully wiped the patient’s body. For him, whose moisture was insufficient, she slightly parted his thick lips and poured in water.

As Kun quietly drank water, he let out a short groan afterward. His stiff body trembled slightly. Occasionally, he made sounds of discomfort, accompanied by cold sweats.

Surprised, Cloé instinctively brought the wet towel to his forehead. Beads of sweat were forming on his pale forehead. She diligently wiped away the sweat, leaving only the part with the gauze attached.

“Even the forehead is torn…”
The battered forehead came to mind. Alongside, the man, who had been anxiously worrying about Cloé, sitting quietly with a bandage on her head, while shedding blood profusely.

The red liquid covering the man’s hair, just like his eyes, crossed my mind. Though it didn’t particularly stand out in its jet-black appearance, whenever light shone upon it, the closed-eyed hair glowed red.

It’s impolite to think about something else when faced with an injured opponent. However, his face uncannily reminded Cloé of someone from the past, leaving her perplexed.

A secret comrade she met on the battlefield.

Although they had never defined their relationship or spent enough time to form one, Cloé considered the knight she met that day as her comrade.

Then, one day, he disappeared like a mirage…

‘Who was he?’

Suddenly, the man’s name that came to mind just wouldn’t be remembered.

A robust man with red hair. It happened about four years ago, so the memory of the face in her mind had become somewhat blurry.

Ugh…

A groan echoed, pulling her out of deep contemplation. Startled, Cloé turned around, and the eyes that had been closed all along now displayed sparkling red jewels.

“Kun!”

The person who knew that the patient’s top priority was absolute stability couldn’t contain their excitement and rushed forward. Cloé pulled the large hand that had been lying on the bed for a long time toward her chest.
“Are you okay? Any specific discomfort? You’ve been unconscious for a long time. Oh, by the way…”

“…”

“How many… fingers is this?”

She felt uneasy as the person in front of her only stared blankly without saying anything. Cloé, who had been busy asking various questions, finally examined her own fingers.

“Two.”

For some reason, she looked at her own fingers, raising them for confirmation. Contrary to his words, her fingers were spread out straight. It felt awkward, as if she had treated the patient who was injured even on the head.

“Do you need anything else? Oh, would it be more comfortable if I call the doctor?”

Kun, who had been tilting his head on the bed, eventually pointed to his thick neck, making her anxious.

“I’m thirsty.”

“Oh, okay! I’ll get you some water!”

Cloé quickly poured water into a cup and returned. The person who had made the request was still lying on the bed, with his waist firmly attached.

‘Ah, he must still be unable to get up.’

It was a dilemma whether to inject water little by little through his lips, as she did when he collapsed. Even though he was a patient, it seemed ridiculous to give him water in that manner.

Around that time, Kun grabbed her wrist as she hesitated. The force coming from the pained patient was so strong that Cloé couldn’t control it.

The water spilled over the shaken glass. The white hand that had been holding the cup became wet one after another.

“Stop that, and you give it. Cloé.”

It was a command disguised as a request. The tone and voice were affectionate, but the determined gaze was strangely compelling.
Understanding the meaning of his words, Cloé turned her head, seemingly embarrassed. The glass she held contained not only her uneasy gaze but also her turned-away attitude.

She took a sip from the glass first. Gradually, the lips moistened with water approached Kun.

Cloé’s face touched the handsome face of the man. As their noses met, one person’s head naturally tilted. Both lips opened simultaneously, and liquid seeped from one set of lips to the other.

Cloé, who had been bending at a right angle at the waist, had suddenly climbed onto the bed. Kun, who had been lying down all the time, suddenly rose and pulled her toward him.

In no time, Cloé found herself sitting on the straightened legs.

“Are you not in pain?”