Time of the Blind Beast - Chapter 23

It was impossible to believe Rose’s words. Was she lying repeatedly, claiming he was imagining things, because he had gone blind? Surely, the itching could only be explained by bugs. Yet Rose persistently insisted there were no bugs and tried to persuade him otherwise.

When the maddening itch drove him to urgently shove Rose away, something strange brushed against the tips of his fingers. His blunt nails, which barely left marks on his own tough skin, seemed to sink easily into Rose’s soft flesh, perhaps due to the excessive force.

“I’ll clean you up. You’ll feel better soon.”

Though he could have sworn he felt the scratch penetrate, Rose showed no reaction, leaving him unsure. This had happened more than once.

To prevent him from scratching himself recklessly, Rose wrapped each of his fingers carefully in cloth. Her actions were methodical, reflecting a learned proficiency.

“If there really were maggots, how could I dare touch your body out of fear?”

Rose began wiping him down with a towel soaked in cold water, a routine she had repeated numerous times a day—sometimes up to a dozen or more. Her practiced hands moved steadily over his skin, and the itching that had been driving him mad gradually began to subside.

Even with a naked man’s body before her, Rose no longer seemed flustered. Initially, she had shown embarrassment, covering him with a towel across his legs, but this didn’t last. Confronted with the countless withdrawal symptoms triggered by his hypothermia and other crises, she quickly adapted.

In this situation, modesty was a luxury.

Ezekiel felt similarly. During their struggles, there were times when he accidentally touched parts of Rose’s body. Often, both of them were scarcely clothed.

The withdrawal symptoms disrupted his sensory system to the extent that the feel of coarse fabric became painful. As a result, Ezekiel remained undressed most of the time. Rose, too, often couldn’t bother with proper attire, given the physical closeness required to manage him. To an outsider, it might have appeared like a primitive tableau of a man and woman.

Moreover, on nights when his fever soared, there were times when he fell asleep clutching Rose’s bare body. Her comfortably cool and soft warmth served as a soothing balm for his hypothermia-stricken nights, and now it acted as a natural fever reducer. Her touch calmed the wildfire in his body, allowing him to breathe more freely—a momentary peace amidst the chaos.

“You feel better now, don’t you?”

It was as if the bugs had vanished by magic.

Even so, Rose kept herself busy. Without pausing, she reached for ointment to treat the wounds he had inflicted upon himself. Ezekiel grabbed her hand as she gently rubbed the salve onto his skin.

“Enough. Use it on yourself.”

His body, already covered in scars from countless battlefield wounds, would hardly show a few more marks. But Rose was different. From the feel of her touch, he could tell her skin was delicate and soft. She was the one who needed to worry about scars.

“I’m fine. I’m not hurt.”

Rose dismissed his concern with the same response she always gave.

After a moment of silence, Ezekiel abruptly grabbed her arm.

“Major?”

Ignoring her startled reaction, he ran his hand over several areas until Rose let out a sharp intake of breath when he pressed a certain spot. Her response differed from when he touched her uninjured skin.

Here it was. He had found it.

Ezekiel pulled Rose’s arm closer. She stumbled and fell into his embrace. Without hesitation, he brought his lips to her arm.

The scent alone made it impossible to distinguish accurately. The smell of blood he had shed while injuring himself lingered in the air. However, taste was different. As the startled Rose tried to pull back, he firmly grasped her arm and slowly explored her body, his lips gliding along her skin.

Rose lightly shook the arm he was holding. Even though she tried not to think improper thoughts, she couldn’t help but flinch at the stimulation from the man’s half-lidded eyes and the faint glimpse of his red tongue through parted lips. It was hot, soft, and ticklish. This sensation was entirely new. Strange and unfamiliar.

“Stay still.”

As Rose squirmed, trying to escape, Ezekiel methodically traced her body and found a faintly swollen area. He flicked his tongue over her skin, tasting the salty flavor of blood as he had expected.

“Not hurt, huh?”

“……”

“Take care of yourself first.”

He remembered the ointment and handed it to her after groping around the floor for it. Rose stared at it blankly, feeling an inexplicable stirring in her chest.

***

Opium was insidious. Just as soon as they let their guard down, his fever spiked again.

Even when it seemed like he was improving for a few days, the symptoms would suddenly worsen without warning, leaving them utterly perplexed.

Once a blessing from the angels, it was now a curse from the devil. Rose clicked her tongue in frustration. Watching from the sidelines was startling enough; she couldn’t begin to imagine how much more extreme this must feel for Ezekiel, who was enduring the withdrawal firsthand.

The headache felt like his skull was being squeezed, his stomach burned with pain, and his body temperature soared uncontrollably.

“You seemed to be calming down… but now I think we should call a doctor.”

“And then what?”

Oddly enough, the worse Ezekiel’s symptoms grew, the more his stubborn pride flared. He refused to kneel, unwilling to waste the endurance he had already demonstrated.

The firm rejection in his retort left Rose biting her lip. True, without painkillers, there wasn’t much a doctor could do anyway.

“Then should I call Madam Serva?”

Rose suggested bringing the nanny who had raised him in hopes that her presence might comfort him more than hers could. Ezekiel rejected this, too.

“What good would it do for Serva to come when she can barely take care of herself?”

“But…”

“Just stay here with me.”

Cutting her off firmly, Ezekiel closed his eyes.

In the end, they could only rely on home remedies. Rose brewed willow bark tea with fever-reducing properties and used lukewarm cloths to cool his body.

Ezekiel placed his hand over hers as she checked his forehead for his temperature. His breathing gradually steadied. In silence, she cooled him with her hands.

He drifted into the void of unconsciousness. Darkness swirled around him like deep waters.

Blink.

His awareness flickered.

Blink.

He was weary.

Blink.

In an instant, the world of dreams overtook him.

Ezekiel blinked. His surroundings brightened faintly. He immediately knew—

It was a dream.

Yet the liberation of lost senses reawakening was a welcome relief. Even if it was a fleeting illusion that would disappear when he woke, the suffocating oppression of reality melted away while he was free of the dark prison.

However, his vision wavered constantly, like a mirage, preventing him from seeing things clearly.

If it’s just a dream, I wish I could see clearly, at least for now.

Even then, his ingrained habits compelled him to analyze his surroundings. He realized he was lying with his head resting on someone’s thigh. It reminded him of his distant childhood, of times when he lay on his nanny Serva’s lap, seeking comfort.

But it wasn’t Serva.

Then, who was this woman?

He tried to lift his head, but his body felt unbearably heavy, as if bound by an invisible force. Slowly, he managed to tilt his head to the side. The woman’s long, flowing hair brushed against his nose.

The color was striking—a beautiful, fiery red like the sunset.

It was strange. Even in his hazy, fog-covered vision, the woman’s red hair stood out vividly. It was so vibrant that it captured his attention completely.

Like a rose in full bloom.

Following the cascade of her hair, Ezekiel turned his head with painstaking effort. His field of vision gradually expanded. As her hair swayed gently, the upper half of her body came into view. Her chest rose and fell shallowly with her breaths.

For a moment, his gaze lingered on the soft curves. But Ezekiel quickly chastised himself.

What mattered now was seeing her face.

His eyes trailed up from her pronounced collarbone and slender shoulders, inching closer to her face. He finally reached the edge of her chin, just as the dream ended.

His vision faded to black.