Chapter 145
Chapter 145
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 145
Chapter Title: Stranded (2)
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-You must always maintain proper posture, Clan Lord.
Those were the words one of her now-deceased retainers had drilled into her ears incessantly.
For Panhima, raised in a Far Eastern clan, being looked down upon by others was tantamount to foolishly endangering herself.
In a world where blades flew at the slightest displeased glance, yielding in presence meant death. Showing weakness was self-harm in itself.
Keep friends close, but trust no one. You never know who'll stab you in the back at your weakest moment.
That's how Panhima was raised.
She knew instinctively never to show weakness to anyone.
Soon.
...The current situation—facing a man while nearly naked—was enough to scramble even the sharpest mind.
Aside from the bandages tightly compressing her chest and the makeshift skirt from her dried lower garments, she wore nothing.
And now, in this state,
‘She said we need to raise body temperature, so...’
She agreed.
Panhima knew full well her body was in an abnormal state.
Knowing and acting were two different things, though.
“Seriously, don’t open your eyes. Absolutely.”
“...I won’t look, I said.”
Having set the condition of keeping his eyes shut all day, Carlyle let out a hollow chuckle with both eyes squeezed tight.
The chill creeping up her body was no joke. At this point, it felt more like a curse than a cold.
“...”
Well, something similar was at play.
It wasn’t for nothing that Carlyle kept his eyes firmly shut, refusing to look at her body.
...Though it wasn’t without embarrassment.
Face flushed deep red, Panhima lay down cautiously, lips pursed.
‘...What am I doing, Panhima.’
She repeated to herself.
...What was she really doing?
Bare skin touching, alone with a strange man, sleeping together.
“...”
Summarizing it like that made the absurdity hit all at once.
Clinging to her fraying sanity as dizziness set in, she spoke curtly.
“...Just backs against each other. Take off your top only.”
“Y-Yeah, sure.”
Carlyle sighed and shed his top.
At that moment, Panhima stared blankly at him for a second.
His body, rippling with lean muscle, revealed at a glance the rigor of his training.
What to say.
Impressive.
...Impressively so, enough to draw a reflexive cough just from looking. Like a perfectly honed panther.
“Panhima? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
She cleared her throat and shook her head.
“...Compatriot.”
“Yes?”
“Try not to strip in front of pampered noble brats, if you can help it.”
Well.
It wasn’t just impressive in appearance.
“Why?”
“Beyond the inferiority complex, some might just piss themselves on sight.”
...His body was covered in horrific scars.
A mere glance suggested it had been torn apart and regenerated countless times.
Especially striking was the scar slashing across his entire back.
“A man returned from death—why leave such wounds untreated?”
“Even with regeneration, some scars embed not in the body, but in my very existence... Hmm, it’s a tricky concept. Just how it is.”
“...Like the Far Eastern idea of reincarnation? I don’t follow.”
“Well—sort of. Point is, after getting hurt every way imaginable, some marks stick like this. Even if you die and come back, certain wounds linger in your being.”
“That’s.”
Panhima chose her words carefully.
“...Dreadful. Pain unending even in death.”
Suffocating thought.
Even crossing into another life beyond death, past wounds carry over—no clean slate, just bearing old scars, getting hurt anew, pressing on.
Whether true or not, it carried the nuance of lived experience.
“Pitiable life, compatriot.”
Muttering that, Panhima flopped onto the spot.
“...Come, backs together. That should suffice.”
At her words, Carlyle groped the floor cautiously and crawled beside her.
The moment their backs touched, warm heat surged.
“...”
“...”
In silence, beneath the crackling firewood, only their breaths echoed softly.
‘...Warm.’
Panhima thought, gently closing her drooping eyes.
Well, her back was plenty warm.
Everywhere else wasn’t. Oddly, beyond the touching backs, the cold intensified.
“...”
Well.
She knew why it was this cold.
...The problem was someone even more attuned to it, right there.
Carlyle shot up urgently, looking down at her.
“...Hold on. Something’s off.”
“Hm...?”
With that, he flipped her body over.
“...?!”
Before she could react, her upper body—bare save for bandages—exposed fully to Carlyle.
Eyes blazing like fire, he glared at her body.
Precisely.
At the ‘mark’ etched on her abdomen.
“...What the hell is this on your stomach?”
“Wait, compatriot, I can explain. Back off first.”
“...This is devouring your life force. Why carry something like this inside you?”
“-I get it, so back off-!”
Shouting, Panhima shoved Carlyle away with all her might.
But even at full force, he didn’t budge.
“...”
For a moment.
Shock flooded Panhima.
Like slamming bare into rock.
...Hard.
Her powers were sealed now. Just a frail woman’s body.
Far weaker than this man currently.
Thrown defenseless, nearly naked, before such a being.
In her most vulnerable state, against an unresisting foe.
...Anything could happen.
If he harbored ill intent, horrors awaited.
Disheveled bandages slipped near her chest with a soft rustle.
Her alluring form—enough to drive any man mad—slid into view under the flickering firelight.
...Not that she dwelled on it usually.
Panhima knew full well her body could ignite lust in any man.
In this state, even this kindly man’s reaction was unpredictable.
“...C-Compatriot...”
Panhima called softly, voice hushed.
Her eyes darted everywhere, unable to meet his gaze squarely.
Heart pounding. Mind spinning.
‘First time?’
The word sparked instinctively in her head.
Here?
Like this?
So suddenly?
With this man?
No, she’d heard other women’s first times were often abrupt, but still—like this?
‘...If he’s my first-’
Her whirling thoughts yielded a clear first impression.
-Now’s the time to rely on me. I get you hate showing weakness, but pushing yourself like this upsets me too.
His smiling words echoed clearly in her mind.
If he were her first.
Well.
“...”
...Not the worst.
With that thought, limp Panhima snapped her eyes wide and shook her head vigorously.
‘...What am I thinking, me-!’
Just accepting it?
She gasped, drawing breath, then forced words at Carlyle.
“F-First, calm down...”
...Though she herself was far from calm.
What if he suddenly lost it here?
Carlyle’s sharp eyes fixed on her, inscrutable.
“Panhima.”
His stiff voice dropped toward her.
Then.
Seeing his hand creep toward her chest, Panhima squeezed her eyes shut.
-Always maintain proper posture, Clan Lord.
-Women especially so.
Her retainer’s nagging, etched deep, flashed through her mind.
Yes, she should’ve listened.
...One lapse in vigilance, and this mess.
Carlyle’s hand touched her chest. And.
“...?”
Rustle—rustle—
The loose bandages were tied neatly.
Panhima opened her tightly shut eyes.
“...??”
With serious eyes, Carlyle meticulously rebound the bandages over her chest.
“Phew, thought I’d die of embarrassment. Should’ve kept my eyes shut.”
“...???”
Amid her confusion, his oblivious voice dropped casually.
“Tie them properly when you wear them. So sloppy.”
“...”
“Anyway, sit up straight. What’s that on your stomach? I’m not sleeping till you explain.”
“...”
Panhima smacked Carlyle’s head.
“Ow. What the-”
Another.
“...It hurts.”
Another.
...Another.
“Y-You...! You trashy bastard...!”
Tearfully, another.
“...”
Hmm.
Judging the mood, it’d be a while of this.
Resigned, Carlyle took the pounding fists meekly.
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