24 - The Time of the Blind Beast (15+ Revised Edition)
Chapter 24
Annoyingly, the presence had folded its wings and vanished.
He awoke from a hazy, light sleep.
It was a deep red dawn.
As was typical of the north, known for its damp climate, the rain that had been falling intermittently and the sound of wind shaking the windows had, for some reason, ceased, leaving an endless silence.
Excessive quiet is, conversely, noisy. It’s a strange paradox, but for someone who had lost their sight, silence was as much an element that keenly stimulated the sense of hearing as any noise.
Ezekiel was instantly pulled back into the pitch-black reality.
The dawn air has a unique scent. Though it varies slightly with the seasons, the dawn of spring carries a clear, fresh, and green aroma.
Gauging the time by the scent and temperature, he shifted his body and felt the thigh supporting his head and the hand covering his forehead.
It was Rose. She had fallen asleep with his head resting on her thigh.
Even while she had dozed off, she was trying to cool his fever.
And so that she could notice and wake immediately if anything seemed amiss with him.
“Did you know? Rose worries about you a lot, Lord Ezekiel. She’s a young lady who treats people with sincerity. It’s rare to find someone like that.”
Madam Serva had often subtly let slip her praise for Rose even after assigning her to him. Sometimes secretly, sometimes with deep admiration, and sometimes with a hint of probing.
Indeed, Rose possessed an altruism that moved others. It was because she was by his side that he had overcome several crises, and even now, he was enduring the aftereffects of abstaining from alcohol and medication.
She would likely naturally become a part of his daily life from now on.
How could such a woman have appeared like a gift?
Until recently, Rose was a complete stranger to Ezekiel. Moreover, if the accident on the day of the victory parade hadn't happened, he wouldn't have had to flee to a remote northern region like Derosa, and he would never have had the chance to meet her.
Life sometimes flows in entirely unpredictable directions. It’s simply astonishing.
“It’s okay. It will truly be okay soon. All of this will become a memory that has passed.”
Rose’s comfort was accurate.
The excruciating pain that had been tormenting him had subsided considerably by some point. He had only slept for perhaps two hours, yet the effect of the rest was remarkable. It was much more bearable than before.
He reached out, chasing fragments of his dream, and felt for Rose.
Her hair, which had fallen forward as she slept with her head bowed, tickled his cheek. It was almost identical to the scene in his dream.
Yes, it was you.
Ezekiel repeated to himself.
I saw you.
He heard her soft, rhythmic breathing. Her exhaled breath moistened his fingers. It was warm and ticklish.
Ezekiel traced the gentle rhythm of her breath and fumbled for Rose’s lips. In his dream, it was a part he had regrettably not seen.
Her lips, rough on the surface as if proving her hardship, were severely chapped. He traced the curve of her full lips as if redrawing them, then fumbled and cupped her lips and cheeks at once.
Her small face fit easily into his hand. Recalling the sensation from last time, he traced from her rounded forehead with his thumb. Below the curve of her forehead, the straight line of her bridge ran at an angle.
If her cheekbones were prominent or her nose aquiline, he might have felt those features as he touched them, but Rose’s facial contours lacked any distinct characteristics. There was no fullness of her cheeks in his palm, nor any scars or other unique marks on her skin.
Madam Serva had once said that Rose was a rare beauty with a harmonious appearance.
Perhaps a harmonious face is characterized by its lack of distinct features?
Even when he touched it slowly, all he could gather was that her bone structure was quite delicate.
His fingers, which had been slowly tracing the smooth contours up and down, paused for a moment.
Slight perspiration had beaded at the hairline where her fine baby hairs had grown.
There were no signs of pain, so it was likely due to his body heat rather than illness. Having held and comforted a man who felt like a furnace, her entire body must have been hot, even scorching.
Yet, Rose never showed it. She never let slip a single word of hardship, not even by mistake.
A woman who was dramatically rescued by his unit after her school, caught in the crossfire, was on the verge of being overrun by enemy forces.
A woman who, upon hearing he had lost his sight, immediately halted her studies and rushed to his side to help.
Consistently calm, considerate, and devoted…
“……”
His hand, which had been caressing her face, had finally woken her. Rose’s gentle breathing momentarily stopped.
He suddenly realized. The distance between him and Rose was closer than he had thought. Based on the height of his outstretched arm, he could only vaguely guess, but Rose, who had met his gaze the moment she opened her eyes, would have perceived it more clearly.
He felt her calm gaze.
Whether she was flustered by the unexpected contact or simply unable to fully awaken due to deep fatigue, she remained still, her cheek resting against him.
It was still the silent dawn.
In the deafening, extreme stillness, he recalled an old memory.
Dawn is imbued with a dreamlike magic.
When was it, after finishing a battle, he had happened to look up at the deep blue dawn?
His body ached everywhere, he was so exhausted that even blinking was difficult, and the ground, soaked with the blood and sweat of countless soldiers, gave off a foul odor. Yet, the dawn he looked up at, lying on the dirty ground, was calm, peaceful, and purely blue, as if it cared nothing for the bustling affairs of the earth. Suddenly, the surroundings were so quiet that he looked around and saw the soldiers of the 37th Regiment, each lost in their own thoughts, gazing at the same serene dawn sky.
With faces that seemed to realize this was the only moment they had to catch their breath.
The dawn did not linger. The branching sunrise heralded the return of another day. He devised strategies, led his subordinates in operations, sometimes defended fortresses in defensive battles, and other times launched offensives to conquer enemy territory. And when there was a lull, he would often look up at the bluish stillness above. A mysterious quiet that detached him from reality, making him forget it.
The feeling of that day was remarkably similar to today’s. Forgetting the pain that pecked at his body, forgetting the deluded thoughts that had muddled his mind, he enjoyed a brief, entranced peace. If possible, he wished he could prolong this moment.
Like now.
Ezekiel drew his hand, which had been cupping Rose’s cheek, closer. Rose followed without resistance.
He kissed his dawn.
His dawn, which offered him the most tender, gentle, and mysterious solace.
* * *
“What kind of woman would someone like that marry? He’s still unmarried, right? Is that correct?”
After Milena Girls' School was narrowly saved from being caught in the battle, the students’ greatest interest for a while was Major Ezekiel Valdemara of the 37th Regiment, the main force in the fierce battle that had blocked the school gates.
Age, hobbies, personality, anecdotes. Students diligently gathered all sorts of unverified rumors like mother birds carrying food, anything related to Ezekiel. Most were rumors they themselves half-believed, but for the female students, the truth or falsehood wasn’t that important. His appearance and background that fulfilled their fantasies, along with his dramatic arrival and gentlemanly departure, were enough to stir the romance of young girls. Trapped in a mountain school far from civilian settlements, the students would gather in their dormitories at night, imagining the man who had saved them like a knight from a fairy tale, and feel thrilled.
“Can’t you tell? He’s from the Valdemara family. He’ll carefully select a woman who is beautiful, intelligent, and from a good family for a strategic marriage. What’s certain is that it won’t be us.”
“Right, we live in different worlds. Normally, we’d never mix, but the war brought us into contact by chance.”
“Yeah, marriage, what marriage? Such big dreams.”
Sometimes, while facing reality, the girls added audacious fantasies.
“Ah, I know it’s absurd. But nobody knows. What if he’s a rake who goes through women like changing clothes?”
“What are you saying, a rake? Lord Ezekiel would never do that. It doesn’t suit him. I don’t even want to think about it.”
“I heard the eldest son is like that… they say he can’t resist pretty women. Oh, right. A woman who was his mistress for a while, through a distant acquaintance, apparently said something about the eldest son of the Valdemara family having a rather eccentric habit.”
“What is it?”
“Apparently… he puts lemons in it.”
