Interlude: Summer Cold
The climate of Silverion was similar to that of Western Europe. Even at the peak of summer, the air turned cool once the sun dipped below the horizon. To a Korean like me, who had spent half of every August suffering through tropical nights, this was nothing short of a blessing. As long as I avoided direct sunlight, I didn't have to worry about the heat draining my energy, making it easy to manage my condition. I had bid farewell to the days of living attached to an air conditioner and a dehumidifier—though, to be fair, I couldn't have used them even if I wanted to.
This blessed environment was great for avoiding the heat, but it acted as a natural source of "air-conditioning sickness" as well. Because the temperature gap between day and night was so wide, if you weren't careful and let your condition slip, it was easy to catch a cold. But really, what could possibly ruin one's health in a life where there was no proper lighting to keep you awake after sunset, forcing you to sleep? If you just got a good night's rest, there was almost no reason to get sick.
Well... I had thought that once. That was before I saw a man who spent his entire day fighting tooth and nail under the scorching sun, weighed down by layers of armor. He would return home and collapse instantly. Perhaps it would be more strange if a body that endured all that remained perfectly healthy.
The protagonist had caught a summer cold. And a nasty one at that. I discovered it the morning after we returned from the dungeon. My own body felt like it was being torn apart from wrestling with gnolls all day. I rose from my bed, gingerly tending to my limbs like someone who had just visited the gym for the first time. I felt dazed. I felt like I’d slept for a long time, yet I didn't feel refreshed in the slightest. The light streaming through the window was intense, suggesting I had slept in quite late.
'Has the protagonist already gone out to handle business by now?' I wondered. But when I turned my gaze toward his bed, the owner was still occupying his spot. I suppose even the strongest are no match for exhaustion. I sat still for a while longer until my stomach growled. It was nearly lunchtime; I should wake him up and grab a bite together. If he was still out of it, I could just bring some food up from the inn.
As I approached, I saw that the protagonist's face was flushed. He was furrowing his brow even in his sleep, looking deeply uncomfortable. Worried that he might be ill, I placed my hand on his forehead. It was burning hot.
"No way, what is this fever..."
I pulled my hand away and checked my own forehead, then touched his again. It was an emergency.
I scrambled down the stairs, stumbling in my haste. It was lunchtime, so the first floor was crowded with people eating. The innkeeper's daughter, who had been carrying food, saw me rushing down and asked, "What's the matter?"
"I need water... and, ah, a wet cloth."
"For washing up? Did you oversleep?" She smiled as she said it. "I'll bring them to you as soon as I finish serving the guests. Just wait a moment."
I grabbed the hem of her skirt as she turned to leave. I knew it was rude, but I was in a panic. "He's sick..."
"Sick?" She crouched down slightly and pressed her forehead against mine. Her body temperature was lower than mine, feeling refreshingly cool. "You have a bit of a fever yourself..."
"No, not me."
"Jiun?" I nodded.
"Mom! I'll be right back! You handle the guests' meals!" she shouted toward the kitchen. I heard the innkeeper shouting something back from inside, but she didn't seem to care.
The help was swift and precise. She brought up a bucket of water, a wide basin, a few cloths, and two bowls of stew for lunch. She even urged me to come find her without delay if his condition worsened or if I fell ill myself.
Checking his forehead again, the fever was still raging. I opened the windows wide on both sides to ventilate the room. I could feel the fresh air from outside flowing in. I pulled back the blanket he was covered with down to his waist and loosened the strings around his neck. As I flapped the fabric, a sour scent and a gust of hot air escaped from within. While doing so, I checked his body for any other issues. I thought I had treated all his external wounds yesterday, but I worried there might be some infection.
I stopped fanning him and poured water into the large basin. I decided to use one cloth to soak in the water for his forehead and the other to wipe down his body. I dipped the cloth into the bucket and wrung it out. The water was lukewarm. I squeezed it tightly so it wouldn't drip, folded it well, and placed it on his forehead. I lightly rinsed the other cloth in the basin and wrung it out. I lifted his shirt and carefully wiped the areas where his wounds had closed. The cuts that had been bleeding were now just red lines. As I wiped, I could feel the raised, bumpy texture of the scratches. His body must have been unable to hold out, succumbing to the combination of inflammation and the cold.
The water in the basin quickly turned murky as I rinsed the cloth. If only a water source were closer, I wouldn't have to worry about this. I continued to wipe him down. He had a solid build. It wasn't obvious at a glance, but he was definitely well-trained. Did he like working out in his original world? Or did he become like this after being dropped into Edenia? It would have been nice if I had a body like that, too. I couldn't help but compare it to my own young, soft frame.
I dipped the cloth into the basin, pulled it out, and wrung it dry. Dark, murky droplets fell back into the water. Once I finished wiping him down, I changed the cloth on his forehead. Next, I brought over the meal. I used a spoon and the bottom of the bowl to mash up all the solid ingredients in the stew until it was quite thick. I scooped up a spoonful, flipped it over, and made sure the back of the spoon was coated evenly. I gently pried his jaw open and inserted the spoon, carefully painting his tongue with the stew.
Despite everything, I had grown fond of the protagonist. The slave brand he’d given me... well, that hadn't ended with just a bit of pain, but since then, he hadn't treated me like a slave. Was it just a impulsive act because his blood was boiling? Ever since I was left in Ameryel's care, he seemed to be intentionally avoiding me. But regardless of the process, he had, in the end, saved me from that slave trader. My feelings of gratitude were slightly stronger than my resentment. Though, thinking about it again, I felt a bit annoyed, too.
I tapped the cloth on his forehead. Still, he was the only person in Edenia I could call family. Since he was the only one I could talk to about my past life, I found myself caring about him more on an emotional level. As we continued to live together, it was only natural for a bond like family to form. Would it feel like this if I had an older brother? No, he looks younger than me, so "little brother" fits better.
While feeding him, I thought of Ameryel. Did she think of things like this when she fed me water? I should write her a letter. It wasn't just Ameryel, either. My family back in my original world, my friends, the part-timer at the cafe I used to greet, the owner of my favorite shop who would prepare my order the moment I called... I just. I just missed them so much.
It was suffocating. I felt like I was going to burst because I had nowhere to vent these feelings. I took his hand, which was resting quietly beside him. It was rough, covered in calluses and scars. Anyone could tell at a glance that these were the hands of someone who lived by the blade. 'You've been through a lot, too,' I thought. I pulled his hand slightly and pressed it against my forehead. His hand was hot with fever, too.
"Why are you doing this? If you're like this, what am I supposed to do?"
You're all I have now. I turned down Meredith's offer so coldly just because of you. If I went back and said I wanted to enter the Academy, what kind of look would you give me? You bad person.
My eyes grew hot, so I looked up. I realized how much I had been relying on him. A sigh escaped my lips. My breath was hot. What was I saying to someone who looked so much younger than me? Suddenly, my strength gave out. I thought I'd go change the cloth on his forehead, but I felt a tug. Perhaps I had squeezed his hand unconsciously, or perhaps he was holding onto mine. The sun would be setting soon, and the wind would turn cold. He showed no signs of letting go of my hand.
Oh, whatever. He's a patient, so I'll make an exception just for today. Squirrels are small animals by nature. Small animals generally have higher body temperatures and faster heartbeats than larger ones. They say that's why they have shorter lifespans... that's a fact I didn't want to know. What I mean to say is, I, Hazel the squirrel beastkin, am a naturally warm living creature!
I nudged the protagonist gently and curled up in the empty space beside him. My tail covered his neck. In this state, even if the cold wind blew while we slept, his condition shouldn't worsen too much. As I lay in bed, my body felt heavy. Nursing someone takes more energy than I thought. As a sense of respect for Ameryel bloomed in my heart, my consciousness slowly, slowly drifted away.
'She's sleeping here again...'
Hazel was sleeping on my bed again. Is it because she's still a child? I lifted her lightly to move her to her own bed, but she just wiggled and burrowed into the blanket. It was quite cute. For some reason, my neck felt warm.
<Summer Cold END>