Riven shook his head lightly, brushing away the remnants of the cold thoughts that had nearly dragged him into a cruel decision. He drew in a long breath, then pushed his legs forward and stepped into the carriage.

The wagon was plain, built more for function than comfort. From within, he could see its two distinct sections. The rear was crammed with weapons taken from Jacky’s shop—swords, spears, axes, and countless others.

The other was a small chamber at the front, cramped and airless, the place where a driver might rest. It held nothing more than a ragged sheet for bedding and a tiny oil lamp that had long since gone dark.

Riven stopped in front of the woman. Pale moonlight slipped through the slats, painting her face in a faint glow. In that instant, something unfamiliar stirred in his chest, a feeling he could not name.

The sensation was quickly followed by disgust—not toward her, but toward himself. The cold thoughts that had flickered through his mind earlier returned, leaving him with the uncanny sense of being a stranger in his own body.

‘Since when have I become like this?’ he asked himself. ‘Since when have I been able to think of abandoning someone so easily?’

He clenched his fist, struggling to contain the storm that swirled without direction.

A faint groan cut through the silence, drawing his attention back. The woman stirred weakly, her body fragile as glass ready to shatter at a touch. Her breathing was ragged, her hands twitching as if battling something unseen.

Riven’s eyes sharpened as he observed. The signs were unmistakable. Pale skin, cold sweat, trembling limbs, blood seeping from her nose and lips.

“This woman has been poisoned.”

His jaw tightened, and after a tense pause, he exhaled heavily. The problem was he had no idea how to treat poison. He was no healer, no alchemist, and possessed not the slightest knowledge of herbs or medicine.

All he could do was stay with her, to ease her suffering however little he could.

Slowly, Riven lowered himself beside her. The wood of the carriage creaked softly under his weight. His hand hesitated before reaching out, brushing against her cold, trembling fingers. The moment their skin touched, the woman flinched, her body recoiling instinctively.

Riven held her hand firmly, refusing to let go. “Easy… it is all right. I will not hurt you,” he murmured, his voice lowered to a soothing whisper.

Her body continued to tremble, but the desperate resistance faded. Her eyes remained closed, perhaps trapped in a nightmare from which she could not wake. Riven gazed at her long and hard, wondering what kind of torment haunted her even in unconsciousness.

A memory surfaced unbidden. Years ago, when his younger sister woke in the dead of night, shaken by nightmares. She had wept and shivered in his arms, and all he could do was soothe her with gentle whispers and a tight embrace.

That memory guided him now. He leaned forward and drew the frail woman into his chest. She felt weightless, fragile, like a doll that might break if held too tightly.

At first she resisted faintly, her body tense and hands pushing weakly. Yet her strength quickly ebbed away.

Riven bowed his head, brushing his hand through her tangled, sweat-dampened red hair. “It is all right… you are safe now. I am here,” he whispered, again and again, as gently as he could.

Then, from her cracked lips, came a faint sound, so weak it was almost lost to the night.

“…I… am a monster…”

Riven froze.

The words, soft as they were, carried a despair sharper than any wound he bore. His chest tightened, and he shook his head slowly, meeting the half-lidded eyes with steady conviction.

“No,” he said quietly but firmly. “You are not a monster. The ones who made you suffer like this are the monsters.”

The woman gave no sign of hearing him, or perhaps his voice could not pierce the walls of her agony. Her body shuddered once more, and her lips moved again.

“…hurts…”

Riven swallowed hard, bitterness rising in his throat. He clasped her hand more firmly, the chill of her skin cutting into him. “I know,” he whispered. “I know… I am here with you.”

A thin trail of crimson ran from her nose, sliding over her chin and staining her neck. Quickly, Riven snatched a cloth from his pack. With steady care, he lowered her head onto his lap, tilting it slightly to slow the flow, and wiped the blood away. His other hand moved gently through her tangled hair as his voice fell soft again. “Rest easy… I am here. You will not face this alone.”

A heavy breath escaped her lips, followed by broken words that trembled on the air.

“…they… I…”

The fragmented plea pierced him deeper than he expected. He leaned closer, voice calm and steady, as though trying to lend her the strength he barely possessed.

“It’s all right… they’re gone now. You’re safe. I’m here for you.” he whispered. “The people who hurt you are no more. Everything is fine now.”

The woman stirred faintly, her body tensing as though to resist. Her weak fingers clutched at his clothes, then slipped back down, powerless. Her eyelids fluttered open slightly, a faint glimmer breaking through.

For the first time, her gaze met his. The blood-red hue of her eyes, usually clouded, now searched weakly for light. For a brief second, a flicker of surprise shone there.

Riven caught the change and spoke firmly, his voice steady. “Calm down. I won’t hurt you.”

Her gaze shifted, trying to focus. Her pale lips trembled, forming words she could not speak. A thin tear slid from the corner of her eye, silent and disbelieving.

Her chest rose and fell in short, uneven breaths. This time, her frail hand moved not to push him away, but to grasp his tunic with the last of her strength. The touch was feather-light, nearly imperceptible, yet Riven felt it press into his heart.

Slowly, her eyes closed again. The faint glimmer faded, sinking into a gentler darkness than before.

Riven watched her quietly. He could only assume the poison was still coursing through her, devouring her piece by piece. But at the very least… she had slipped into rest with less torment than before, not lost in a nightmare’s grip.

His hand continued to move, softly stroking her hair, just as he once comforted Melly when she was small and frightened by dreams. The words he whispered were the same as then, simple yet sincere.

“Sleep. You are safe here.”

Gradually, her body eased. Her breathing remained heavy, but steadier. The lines of pain across her face loosened, as though some measure of relief had finally reached her.

Riven’s own eyes grew heavy. His body ached, his mind weighed with exhaustion, yet he refused to let her go. Still, after long minutes, his eyelids betrayed him. He leaned back against the wooden wall of the carriage, keeping her cradled in his lap.

Before long, his own consciousness slipped away, surrendering to the dark.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep