21 - The Time of the Blind Beast (15+ Revised Edition)
Chapter 21
If ten times wasn't enough, I repeated it twenty times. If twenty wasn't enough, I repeated it thirty times. If I were an artist, I could have captured it on canvas with my eyes closed. Of course, he wasn't an artist, so he merely etched the woman's face into his mind, but at this point, it could be called an obsession he would never forget until the day he died.
On one hand, it was amusing. Usually, one wouldn't even revisit the face of a loved one this many times.
Rich chestnut hair, hazel eyes with a faint hint of olive, an expression tinged with bewilderment, slightly parted lips...
The sound of his pulse ticked steadily. Like a pendulum inducing a semi-conscious state through hypnosis.
He blinked.
The woman's face, always vivid and clear, was now hazy, as if veiled in fog. It felt slightly different from usual. Of course, he knew all too well what the blurred, indistinct parts looked like. Nevertheless, an unknown anxiety fueled his obsession.
He needed to see it closer.
He was no longer aware of his clothes, soaked in cold sweat. Ezekiel crawled across the bed. After fumbling in the darkness, bumping into things, and stumbling, he finally found the glass bottle and gripped its opening with his mouth. He couldn't hold it and drink it, so he collapsed onto the bed with the bottle. The impact caused a few sips of liquid to wet his tongue.
"...Damn it."
As his sense of taste was stimulated, his consciousness suddenly returned.
He couldn't accept himself losing his senses so completely for a moment. He couldn't even recall the process of holding the bottle to his mouth and swallowing. It would be believable if a demon had possessed him for a moment.
He wouldn't make the same mistake twice. The momentary awakening fueled his rage.
He swept his arm across the table. The glass bottles that hit his forearm flew somewhere.
All the sensations in his body raged. Thirst burned his throat. His body temperature had dropped further than before. The chill wouldn't dissipate. His insides ached as if they were tearing apart.
He even doubted if he was mentally sound anymore.
Had he gone mad?
This wasn't sickness. Sickness has a reason. But this body... without any cause...
It was broken.
Yes, "broken" was a more accurate word. Something about him was severely broken. Otherwise, this wouldn't be happening.
Feeling a cold that wasn't there,
Feeling pain without reason,
His mind would drift into a semi-conscious state at any moment, at its own whim. Not a single part of him was sound.
"Don't worry. There was nothing in this room. I secretly cleared it all away. What the Major drank was Sleep tea."
Rose's voice seeped into his hazy consciousness. But it offered little comfort. The reassurance that he hadn't drunk Rhodanum wasn't enough, as the symptoms he felt in his body were becoming increasingly severe. He felt so cold that his very blood seemed to freeze. There was a snow country within his body. His chilled heart ached.
Ah, if only I had a shred of warmth, I would gladly embrace it.
"I don't mean any harm. It's because of hypothermia. The Major is a soldier, too... you understand."
It seemed there was a god in this world after all.
"It'll be quick. Just a moment."
It was the first time. The day she felt warm.
It was the warmth he had so desperately craved. It was no different from the touch of a god. The desperation not to miss this opportunity spurred him on.
Without hesitation, Ezekiel threw himself forward, snatched the warmth, and immediately pushed it beneath him, pulling it close. Here was a comfort that put a brazier to shame.
As their bodies pressed together tightly, he grew warmer. He buried his face deep into her neck, inhaling her warmth.
The woman trapped in his embrace stirred slightly. But it was resistance no more intense than a tickle. Soon, she seemed to surrender to his persistence, becoming still.
He felt like he could live.
He felt like he had never truly been this warm before.
He felt like he wouldn't mind turning to ash in this warmth.
"Ugh..."
A crushing pressure weighed down his entire body, making it hard to breathe. The man's weight, which had fallen upon her without her realizing it, was far too heavy for her to bear. It was fortunate that his condition prevented him from using his full strength; if he had crushed her with all his might, her ribs would surely have broken. Rose barely managed to stifle a scream.
"...Major?"
She tried speaking, just in case. A low groan answered her.
Even so, the man pressed and rubbed his body against hers persistently. As their skin chafed, a little heat began to generate. Though he wasn't conscious enough to respond when she called his name, he seemed to instinctively know what his ailing body needed most.
Rose painstakingly pulled out her pinned arm and wrapped it around his back, patting him. She stroked down his spine, lending him her meager body heat.
"It's okay."
She whispered softly.
"It's alright. It's okay."
Whatever you do to me, it's okay.
If even this lukewarm temperature helps, it's okay to hurt a little.
She wanted to offer comfort, even knowing he couldn't hear her words.
Rose desperately pulled him closer instead of pushing him away. He buried his face in her shoulder and exhaled rapidly.
As she rubbed Ezekiel's body, which was wracked with severe chills, to warm him up, Rose finished removing his trousers. It felt much better once the wet cloth clinging to his legs was gone. Then, as she reached for his underwear, Rose flinched for a moment.
In her innocent childhood, she had no concept of shame when splashing around naked with boys and girls, but now she was an adult. She felt she shouldn't be so particular when someone was ill, yet the fullness pressing against her thighs required considerable resolve.
She wondered if it was a delusion, but the long, thick mass pressing firmly between her thighs and calves was no delusion. It felt like a lie.
Trying desperately not to acknowledge it, Rose squeezed her eyes shut and pulled down his underwear as well.
To make matters worse, as he squirmed, the hem of her skirt rode up. She tried to quickly grab and pull down the fabric, but it was useless. Instead, her struggling only resulted in her legs pressing together more closely. A strange, unfamiliar sensation—soft on the surface but firm within—pricked the inside of her thighs.
Rose stopped all movement and froze.
What should I do? Is it okay to move this with my hand? ...Is it?
The man, unaware of the situation with her lower body, only ensnared her further like a vine. The space was so narrow that she couldn't even spread her legs apart.
To avoid stimulating him, Rose simply breathed quietly.
Just then.
"Rose, Rose? Are you inside? Didn't I just hear something break?"
She flinched again.
It was Madam Serva. The Madam, who stayed on the first floor due to her bad knees, seemed to have been woken by the disturbance that shattered the silence, just like her.
Rose quickly replied.
"Yes, yes. I'm here."
"What on earth is going on in the middle of the night? Why is the door locked?"
"Ah..."
"Rose, are you listening? Open the door."
"No! Stay there. Because... it's dangerous."
She quickly scanned their positions, hers and Ezekiel's. The scattered clothes on the floor, her own disheveled state beneath the naked man, the rhythmic rise and fall of their bodies rubbing together for warmth, the man's ragged breaths from hyperventilation... Anyone would assume it was a couple making love.
Madam Serva was in charge of all the household affairs, so even though she should know no secrets under this roof, Rose couldn't afford to be caught in such an embarrassing scene. Now, even Rose was starting to sweat. She quickly concocted a flimsy excuse.
"The floor is... all wet and slippery. You might fall, so please don't come in."
She tried to sound as calm as possible, as if nothing were happening, but the intimate contact, close to caressing, kept disrupting her composure. Her chest, pressed by his weight, softened, evoking a strange sensation.
"What? What's going on?"
"It's nothing. It seems... he threw a bottle in his sleep... and he's fallen asleep again. He usually has trouble sleeping... so I'll clean it up quietly later. ...Nothing's wrong. Don't worry."
To hide her trembling voice, she stammered, her tone lower than usual. She prayed it would sound like she was lowering her voice to avoid waking the man.
Rose deliberately added a mention of Ezekiel's long-standing insomnia. Madam Serva knew how rare and precious it was for this man to sleep soundly. She calculated that the Madam wouldn't stubbornly insist on disturbing his sleep.
Had it worked?
She strained her ears to catch Madam Serva's reaction. But it was difficult with his mountain-like body pressing down on her.
"...Ah, is that so? I understand. You're working hard, Rose. I'll leave the rest to you."
After a brief silence, Madam Serva's reply came.
Did it work?
Rose quietly let out a sigh of relief. Yet, she didn't completely relax her guard until the sound of the cane pacing outside the door had completely faded.
Ezekiel showed no sign of noticing that Madam Serva had even come to the bedroom door. Or perhaps he was too engrossed in seeking her warmth to pay attention to anyone's arrival.
Alcohol and drugs had ruined this man's sensitive senses so thoroughly.
"I wonder if medicine and poison aren't just a fine line apart."
If taken in small amounts, it was medicine; if taken in large amounts, it was poison. While he took it consistently, it was medicine; when he stopped, it became an illness. That was addiction.
Rose closed her eyes and surrendered herself to his movements.
Her nightgown began to grow damp with sweat, the origin of which she didn't know. She shivered slightly from the coldness of her damp clothes. She was cold, and it would be even more dangerous for the man suffering from hypothermia. She couldn't afford to lose the body heat she had managed to raise.
Rose bit her lip. It was her second experience, so it wasn't entirely unfamiliar, which was a small comfort.
Her decision was swift. She pulled down her own clothes in one go.
