The Girl on the Road
Warm sunlight pressed gently against my closed eyelids, replacing the acrid stench of burning wood with the earthy scents of damp soil and dry summer grass. Beneath my back, something wet and sticky had already pooled, soaking through my clothes with a heavy, sickening warmth.
Approaching footsteps crunched against loose gravel.
I forced my eyelids open. The sky above was blindingly bright, and my body felt like lead anchored to the earth. Fresh blood drenched the fabric clinging to my chest, a long, jagged tear spilling outward into the dirt beneath me. I tried to move, to twitch even a single finger.
Nothing happened.
A shadow fell across my field of vision, blocking out the sun. Strands of bright blonde hair drifted into sight, swaying softly in the morning breeze above a pair of worn, handmade sandals dusted with road dirt.
Her face hovered above me, her wide eyes filled with immediate alarm as she spoke rapidly. The words blurred into a low, incomprehensible hum in my ears, slipping right past my fading awareness.
She's beautiful.
The thought surfaced naturally, unbidden within the quiet gloom of my fading mind. And at that exact moment, a hoarse, barely audible voice scraped past my lips—a ragged breath escaping failing lungs.
"…An angel…"
The woman blinked in surprise, a faint blush touching her cheeks, but worry quickly overtook her embarrassment. She knelt beside me, her hands moving with frantic purpose as something deep within me violently shifted.
The movement of this body wasn't mine. The voice wasn't mine either. And yet, I could feel every horrifying detail—every ragged breath, every pulse of agony spreading through torn flesh, every fading, stuttering heartbeat.
Foreign memories surfaced through the lingering haze. Not mine. His.
A name appeared among them as naturally as breathing: Viole. So that was the man whose body I now occupied. And me? Inside the quiet confines of his failing mind, my thoughts searched inward for an anchor, landing on a name just as clearly.
Caelus.
Without warning, something freezing cold splashed across his chest. A sharp, stinging scent flooded his nose—crushed herbs mixed with something metallic and intensely bitter.
The body convulsed as the liquid washed across the open wound, searing the torn flesh. A ragged groan scraped past Viole's lips as his voice faltered weakly.
"…Wh… where am I…?"
The woman didn't answer. Her hands moved in a rapid, practiced rhythm, splashing more liquid along the severe laceration spanning from his chest down to his abdomen.
Before the darkness claimed his sight, warmth pressed firmly against his sternum. A heavy, delicate pressure settled over his heart, followed by trembling fingers pressing into the side of his neck.
The world swayed, the daylight washed out, and consciousness vanished once more.
***
His pulse is so weak... but he's still holding on.
I pressed two trembling fingers against the side of his neck, holding my breath until I felt the faint, ragged thud beneath his blood-stained skin. Leaning down further, I placed my ear against his chest, listening through the tear in his tunic until I caught the rhythm of his struggling heart.
He was alive, but barely.
My hands shook as I uncapped another salve, uncorking the glass and pouring the luminescent amber liquid directly over the wound spanning his chest to his abdomen.
The moment the potion touched the wound, it reacted.
Torn muscle fibers twitched and stretched toward one another. The deep, ragged laceration began to pull together and seal—stitching shut. Within seconds, the bleeding halted, leaving behind a raw, raised scab across his torso.
I let out a ragged sigh of relief, though my hands remained tense.
It closed the surface wound... but it can't fix what's underneath.
My home-brewed potions were infused with processed herbs and mana, capable of knitting flesh and stopping fatal blood loss, but they couldn't replace the fluid he had already bled out.
I wiped my blood-stained hands against my apron, my eyes darting nervously toward the direction where he might have come from… The Verdant Hollow Forest.
Hooking my hands beneath his shoulders, I planted my heels into the loose gravel and pulled with everything I had. The sheer weight of a fully grown, armor-clad man nearly threw me off balance, forcing a choked cry from my throat.
Each tug was a grueling battle. Gravel scraped against his back as his body dragged through the dirt, his boots catching on dry weeds while I gasped for air between every staggering step.
Just ten more feet. Just into the shade.
When my arms finally gave out, I eased his back against the rough, solid bark of an oak tree. The canopy rustled softly in the breeze, filtering the harsh afternoon glare into dancing amber shadows.
I collapsed beside him, my chest heaving as I rubbed my throbbing shoulders. Listening to his slow, raspy breaths, I began to softly hum a quiet melody from Lunareth Village—anything to drown out the terrifying silence of the road.
***
The song stopped.
When Viole's body finally stirred, the soothing melody carried by the wind cut off abruptly. Light seeped through his twitching eyelids, revealing a bright blue sky framed by drifting leaves before settling on the figure sitting beside him.
Blonde hair fluttered in the breeze as the girl leaned back against the tree trunk. Her head snapped toward him the instant she noticed his eyes opening, her gaze locking onto his in quiet disbelief.
Viole's throat worked dryly, his voice scraping out like coarse sandpaper against stone.
"…Where… Where am I…?"
The girl straightened immediately, startled. She quickly folded her hands in her lap, her voice faltering before she found her composure.
"I found you on the road. You were bleeding so much… I had to treat your wounds." She glanced down nervously, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I couldn't just leave you there… so I moved you here under the shade."
Viole blinked slowly, his gaze drifting past her toward the open road.
"…The road… where is this…?"
"It's outside the city," she gestured faintly toward the tree line. "Not too far, but… still a bit of a walk."
Silence returned, filled only by the slow, labored rise and fall of Viole's chest as strength gradually trickled back into his bruised limbs.
"…How long was I out…?"
"Well…" She pointed up through the leaves. "When I found you, the sun was way up there. Now it's over here."
The light filtering through the branches had stretched long, amber shadows across the grass. Hours had passed—not enough to drain the day's warmth, but enough for the broken body beneath me to pull itself back from the edge of death.
***
The wound is closed, but he's lost far too much blood.
I pulled my knees tightly to my chest, my gaze shifting from his dangerously pale face to the dark, silent thickets of Verdant Hollow Forest.
An ordinary man would have died from shock long before reaching the turnpike. Even with my potion closing his chest laceration, his skin was waxy and cold, his lips cracked from severe dehydration. And every time he shifted, I caught the subtle, agonizing hitch in his breathing—the sign of fractured ribs pressing against his chest wall.
He needed a proper Healer or he wouldn't survive the week.
I looked back at him, forcing a soft, gentle expression to mask the nervous fluttering in my throat.
"…Does it still hurt?"
***
The pain was a quiet, suffocating roar.
Inside the dark, quiet vessel of Viole's body, I felt every agonizing detail—the dull, thrumming ache in his muscles, the desert dryness in his throat, the sharp pressure of cracked ribs with every breath, and the steady, heavy thud of a heart forced back into rhythm.
Viole forced his eyes shut again.
"…No…"
The word barely formed before exhaustion dragged him under once more. Not into unconsciousness—just a deep, heavy rest to allow his cells to rebuild.
When Viole's eyes opened a second time, the amber shadows had stretched much further across the grass.
A figure leaned close, her features clearing as the lingering haze of fatigue finally burned away. Beneath the wide blue sky of this unfamiliar world, I saw her properly for the first time.
She was stunning—not with the exaggerated, sharp perfection of a painted portrait, but with a delicate grace that felt overwhelmingly real. Large eyes the color of a calm morning lake framed her soft face, bright and deeply expressive.
Sunlight caught in her long cascade of honey-blonde hair, shimmering as the wind moved through it before softening into a faint lilac hue near the tips. A navy ribbon tied part of it back, matching a simple ribbon resting neatly around her neck.
Her white linen off-the-shoulder dress bore delicate floral embroidery along the ruffled neckline—tiny, hand-stitched blossoms swaying with the breeze.
Her best dress, I realized. Worn for trips into town.
Over one shoulder, a thick hemp rope crossed diagonally over her chest, leading back to a small wooden wagon. Inside were neatly arranged salves filled with colorful liquids alongside bundled lavender, its fresh scent drifting through the afternoon air.
The girl leaned closer, her expression melting into pure relief.
"Um… are you feeling a little better now?"
When Viole didn't answer right away, she tilted forward, her face hovering close enough that I could see the subtle tremble of nervousness in her eyes.
"…Do you think…" Her fingers tightened around the shoulder rope. "…you might be able to stand? If you can walk, we can head toward the city slowly. There's a proper healer there."
Inside his limbs, the dull heaviness had receded just enough. Viole pressed his palm against the dirt, his muscles trembling violently as he forced his upper body forward.
"…Walk… I'll try."
Viole drew a sharp breath and shoved himself upward. For half a second, his legs held.
Then, his knees buckled.
The world tilted violently—
"Ah—!"
Footsteps rushed through the grass. Before the body could hit the dirt, soft but surprisingly firm hands caught him—one gripping his arm, the other bracing his shoulder.
"W-wait! Please don't rush!"
Viole's full weight slumped against her. Despite her slender frame, she didn't give an inch, bracing her footing to hold him upright. For someone who had dragged a full-grown man off the road, her strength was far greater than her delicate appearance suggested.
"Sorry…" Viole mumbled, his cheeks burning hotter as the scent of lavender enveloped him up close.
She quickly looked away, though her grip remained steady until she was certain he wouldn't collapse.
"I-it's okay… Just please be careful."
Once he stabilized, she stepped back, pulling a small clay flask from a satchel on her wagon. "Here… you lost a lot of blood. You need water."
Viole accepted the cool flask with a faint nod.
"…Thank you."
The cool liquid washed away the desert in his throat. As he handed it back, she gave a soft smile, taking her place at the front of the wagon.
"Um…" Her voice was small as the wooden wheels began to creak against the dirt road. "We haven't introduced ourselves yet… My name is Ai. I'm from Lunareth Village."
She gestured to the jars behind her. "I'm on my way to the city to sell my potions. What about you? What's your name?"
"…Ah." Viole's steps slowed. "…Right. I'm sorry. My name is… Viole. And… thank you. For saving me."
Ai shook her head quickly. "I-it was nothing—"
"…I'm an adventurer," he continued, breathing heavily between words. "…Silver rank."
They walked in silence for a moment before Ai finally voiced the question weighing on her.
"…What happened to you? You were so badly hurt."
"…A guild request," Viole's gaze drifted toward the distant horizon. "Herb gathering in Verdant Hollow Forest. It should have been safe… but an Undead Dire Wolf appeared. Something not meant for that zone. It caught me off guard—flung me into a stone ridge before I could even draw my blade."
His hand brushed the bandages over his ribs, feeling the deep, throbbing ache beneath the sealed skin.
"I barely managed to block its jaws with my vambrace, but the claws took a chunk out of my chest on the way down. I barely escaped."
"…Didn't you have healing potions?" she asked softly.
Viole let out a tired, self-deprecating laugh.
"…I wish. High grade potions are far too expensive for Silver-ranks like me."
***
He talks about dying as if it's just an inconvenient business expense.
I kept my eyes fixed on the dirt road ahead, my fingers tightening around the wagon's lead rope until my knuckles turned white.
As a village apothecary, I spent hours processing herbs and balancing mana ratios just to create simple remedies, but hearing an adventurer casually treat his own life as less valuable than a healing potion chilled me to the bone. He had survived a nightmarish clash with an Undead beast and was walking on cracked ribs, yet his tone was completely detached.
Behind me, the creak of the wooden wheels rhythmically matched his heavy, uneven footsteps. Every few paces, I caught the subtle, hitched gasp of a man dragging himself forward through sheer force of will.
What kind of life forces someone to get used to agony like this?
I glanced over my shoulder, catching the distant, shadowed gaze of a warrior who had walked through hell and barely made it back out. Whatever lurked in Verdant Hollow was a threat to the entire area.