Chapter 106: Safe Return
When a fervent voice called her name, Aracila stirred from her haze, her eyes narrowing faintly. Through a slightly blurred gaze, she saw Damian clutching her hand like a lifeline, his head bowed as if in prayer. Between the strands of silver hair that fell forward, she glimpsed the sharp line of his nose and the furrowed brow that seemed on the verge of tears.
Damian, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? The words she wanted to say piled up in her mind, but her lips refused to move. Unable to resist the leaden weight of her eyelids, Aracila slipped back into a faint-like sleep.
The next morning, she awoke with a clearer mind, her eyes fully open. As she lay there, bandages wrapped around her head, leg, and shoulder, her bright eyes darted around the room. Someone entered. It was none other than Sally.
Carrying morning medicine, Sally spotted Aracila awake and nearly let out a scream. “Senior! Are you okay? You’re finally conscious?!”
“Sally, you’re going to burst my eardrums,” Aracila replied with a slight frown but a smile, her voice warm despite the complaint. Sally rushed to the bedside, sniffling as she clasped Aracila’s hand tightly.
“Sob, I’m so glad you’re awake. We were so worried—you didn’t regain consciousness for three days because of that dark magic bomb.”
“Three days?” Aracila’s eyes widened in shock. She hadn’t realized she’d been out for so long. No wonder it hurt like hell when I passed out.
Still teary, Sally explained her condition in detail. When she mentioned that Aracila’s right arm and leg were fractured, Aracila responded calmly. “Well, I took a dark magic bomb head-on. I’m lucky my limbs didn’t get blown off.”
It was only because of Aracila’s exceptional skill that the damage from the dark magic bomb had been limited to this extent. Anyone else would have been caught in the blast along with those nearby, likely bedridden or worse.
“By the way, where’s Damian? Is he okay?” Aracila finally asked the question that had been nagging at her, her face clouding with worry. She had shielded him, standing protectively in front of him, so she assumed he wasn’t seriously hurt. Still, the slim chance of something worse gnawed at her.
“His Grace is fine,” Sally replied without hesitation. “He’s probably investigating the incident right now. Should I call for him?”
Relief washed over Aracila, and she let out a slow breath, nodding. “Yes, please.”
Sally handed her a vial of medicine and left the room. With a groan, Aracila propped herself up and downed the translucent, ruby-hued liquid in one gulp. Grimacing at the bitter taste that flooded her mouth, she was reaching for water when—
Bang!
The door flew open with a sound that could have torn it off its hinges. Damian appeared, his hair disheveled as if he’d run through a storm, his clothes in uncharacteristic disarray.
“My lady…” His golden eyes trembled as they fixed on her. Breathing heavily, he strode toward her with purpose.
“Damian, are you okay?” Aracila asked, concern lacing her voice.
“Why are you asking that?” Damian’s voice broke with emotion as he shouted, clearly shaken by her immediate concern for him. She’s the one who should be asked that, not him—the coward who’d emerged unscathed, using his wife as a shield. Gently but firmly gripping her uninjured shoulder, he spoke with raw intensity. “Do you have any idea how worried I was? Why did you recklessly throw yourself in front of me?”
“Because I didn’t want you to get hurt,” she replied simply.
“I’d rather it had been me!” Damian’s face contorted as he bowed his head. “If it meant sparing you this, I’d rather have been the one hurt!”
His breathing was uneven, ragged, as if he couldn’t calm himself. Surprised by the intensity of his reaction, Aracila blinked, then reached out with her uninjured hand, resting it gently on his. “But I’m glad you’re safe.”
“…”
“I feel so proud right now, knowing I protected you.” Smiling softly, she tugged him to sit on the bed beside her. Reaching out with her pale hand, she pressed her fingers against his furrowed brow, smoothing it out. “So stop frowning. It’s not like anyone died, right?”
“You don’t know how I feel,” Damian muttered, turning his head aside, his voice heavy with suppressed emotion.
Aracila grabbed his cheek, gently turning his face back to her. “I do know,” she said firmly. “You were scared I might die.”
“…”
“I’m a bit stubborn, you know. And more than that, I have no intention of leaving the people I care about behind.” In a prophetic dream, Aracila had witnessed Iris’s death and felt the visceral grief of losing someone close—an agony that tore her heart into pieces. Knowing Damian had endured a similar loss with his mother, she could imagine how anxious and tormented he must have been while she was unconscious.
Meeting his wavering gaze, she spoke clearly, each word deliberate. “So don’t worry. I’m not going to die, and I’m perfectly fine right now. Got it?”
Poking his cheek playfully, she flashed a grin. The storm in Damian’s heart, which had been raging unsteadily, calmed with surprising speed. His expression softened, and he nodded slowly. Satisfied with his newfound calm, Aracila suddenly remembered something and asked, “So, what happened to Ken? Did you catch him and give him a good thrashing?”
“Unfortunately, no,” Damian replied, his face darkening. “He took his own life right after. We’re still investigating to uncover who was behind it.”
Noticing the grimness in his expression, Aracila immediately sensed the investigation wasn’t going smoothly. “Sounds like it’s not easy to dig up the truth,” she remarked.
“It seems the person who hired Ken isn’t from the west or this village but somewhere else entirely. We haven’t found any connected individuals or notable evidence here,” Damian said.
“Then we should head back to the capital as soon as possible,” Aracila replied. “I’m fine, so let’s leave quickly.”
After all, if she wanted proper treatment for her injuries, the capital was the only option. No matter how skilled Rudy or Aracila herself were at crafting magical potions, they weren’t specialists in healing elixirs. For Aracila’s sake, Damian agreed to return to the capital. The physician had also confirmed that her condition was stable enough for travel by carriage.
Thus, the expedition’s return was swiftly scheduled for the following day. The front of the inn buzzed with people loading luggage. Aracila, leaning on crutches, emerged from the building with some effort. With both her leg and arm injured, handling the crutches was no easy task. Her unsteady gait looked as though she might topple over at any moment.
Just as Damian finished speaking with Isaac and turned around, he spotted her hobbling awkwardly in the distance. With swift, agile strides, he rushed to her side. “My lady, be careful.”
Aracila, who had been in need of assistance, greeted him with a relieved smile. “Oh, Damian. Could you help me? My arm’s injured, so it’s a bit…”
Her words trailed off unfinished. Without warning, Damian scooped her up into his arms. Her blue eyes widened in surprise, locking onto his face. “W-What are you doing?”
“I’ll carry you to the carriage,” he said matter-of-factly.
“I can walk, you know…”
“It’s too dangerous. Hold on to me tightly.”
With a firm tone, Damian began walking toward the carriage. Caught off guard, Aracila instinctively looped her arms around the back of his neck. His embrace was warm and steady, his strong arms securely supporting her waist and knees. Being carried like this was a first for her, and a flush crept up her ears. The curious glances from onlookers only added to her slight embarrassment.
Damian gently set her down on the carriage’s cushioned seat, handling her with the care one might reserve for a fragile glass doll. “I’ll check on the mages and do a headcount, then return. Stay here and rest comfortably until then.”
“Alright. Thank you,” Aracila replied softly.
Damian quietly closed the door and stepped out. Through the window, Aracila watched him briskly direct the group, hastening preparations for departure. Come to think of it, she vaguely recalled hearing him call her name while she was half-conscious. Was that my imagination? Her memory was hazy from her disoriented state, making it hard to be certain. Hmm, it wasn’t a bad feeling, though… His low, soothing voice had felt oddly comforting. Realizing it might have been a figment of her mind left her faintly disappointed, though she wasn’t about to pester him to call her name again.
Not long after, Damian returned to the carriage, and the expedition set off for the capital. With her injured arm making it difficult to read, Aracila gazed out the window, boredom settling in, before she spoke up abruptly. “Do you think the Vandemir ducal family hired Ken?”
“It’s highly likely,” Damian replied, “but we can’t rule out other possibilities.”
“What do you mean? Is there someone else who wants you gone?”
Damian fell silent for a moment, as if weighing his words, before speaking slowly. “I’m not certain. But it seems someone from the imperial family might be involved.”
He recounted the conversation he’d had with Ben Diark when he received the imperial commission, details he hadn’t shared earlier, deeming them unimportant at the time. Aracila’s expression grew serious as she learned about the anonymous high-ranking imperial figure for the first time.
“Have you ever crossed someone in the imperial family?” she asked.
“…Not particularly,” Damian replied, hesitating slightly. He deliberately avoided mentioning Frederick, knowing Aracila still considered him a friend and not wanting to stir suspicion prematurely. Nor did he relish the idea of voicing Frederick’s feelings for her. “I suspect there might be someone in the imperial family with hidden ties to the Vandemir ducal house, or perhaps it’s a short-term arrangement fueled by bribes.”
“Hmm, that could be,” Aracila mused. There was no clear reason for the imperial family to target Damian specifically—unless someone harbored personal animosity or was colRudyng with the Vandemir family to preserve their influence. The truth would only become clear once they investigated in the capital.
***
Audrey hadn’t accompanied Aracila to the west. The beast-slaying mission was dangerous, and she typically stayed behind when Aracila undertook tasks for the Magic Tower. While dutifully cleaning the mansion and awaiting Aracila and Damian’s return, she nearly fainted at the sight of her mistress returning swathed in bandages.
When Aracila was carried from the carriage in Damian’s arms, Audrey had giggled, exclaiming, “Oh my!” But upon seeing her condition up close in the room, she realized how dire it was. “My lady, what in the world happened? How did you get so hurt…?” Her voice trembled with shock.
Damian flinched, guilt pricking at him for being the reason she was injured. “Things happen when you’re out slaying beasts,” Aracila said lightly, brushing it off. She didn’t want to delve into the details in front of Audrey, lest it sound like she was blaming Damian, who was still standing there, motionless.
Audrey’s face crumpled as she fussed over Aracila’s injured limbs. “But you’ve never come back this hurt before.”
“Babies aren’t the only ones who fall,” Aracila said with a gentle smile, patting Audrey’s shoulder. “Even adults who’ve long since learned to walk can stumble sometimes.”
She reassured Audrey—and, by extension, Damian, who stood rigidly behind the maid—that Sally and Rudy had arranged for a healing potion specialist from the Magic Tower to assist her. Her gaze shifted to Damian, who looked ready to remain a statue unless she told him to move.
