Blood Moon Rising Over The Plains - Chapter 2:The Raiders (6)

In the farthest edge of my vision, the world turned red. The sun was rising.

The snowstorm had finally subsided, and the world outside came into sharp focus. The forest was dense with towering conifers, and not far away, a snow-capped mountain stood resolute, its peak untouched by warmth.

Why had I run? I had nowhere to go.

What should I do now?

I suddenly thought of him—the man who stood tall and unyielding amidst the blizzard, as immovable as stone. He led his group with absolute authority, commanding them without hesitation. He had taken another human’s life without flinching, severing the neck as if it were second nature.

Android robots and artificial intelligence were created to serve humanity from the moment of their inception. Any act of harming humans was punishable by death—it was the foundation of the law. War, murder, and all forms of crime had long since vanished. That was how it was in the future.

Yet now, the faces of women dying with bulging veins, glaring at me with venom in their eyes, burned vividly in my memory.

“Why don’t you—”

“Die?”

“Why am I the only one who has to die?”

They had glared at me with those piercing eyes as they asked. My stomach churned at the sight of blood trickling from their rapidly cooling faces.

What could I have done for them as they reached the end of their lives? I didn’t have the means to save them, and neither did they.

So why had they looked at me with such hatred?

Why did it bother me so much?

How many times had I turned away from them? I only wanted to survive. I didn’t want to die like that. What was so wrong with that? I didn’t want to feel pain.

The only kind of death I had known was one where life simply faded away, like falling asleep. That was the natural order of things. That was the death I had understood as human.

But I didn’t want to die like them.

I didn’t want to die such a horrible death.

That’s right—I wanted to live.

Watching a dying soldier, I caught myself feeling relieved. Relieved that they hadn’t discovered me. That even if a conspicuous foreign woman like me escaped, they wouldn’t trace it back to me.

What a disgusting thought.

I felt strange for thinking that way.

Why do I think this way? When did I start thinking like this?

What’s happening to me?

I felt as though I was losing the few emotions I had left. Or perhaps, I was gaining more emotions than I’d ever had before.

For the first time, I felt something so raw, so unfiltered, that I could identify as my own. For the first time, I cried—not as a physical response, but out of pure emotion.

Hot tears streaked down my frozen cheeks. The warmth stung as if my skin was burning.

Rustle.

“[……]”

“….”

Why?

Why did you come after me?

Below me, on the branch beneath my perch, stood the man, his golden eyes brimming with an unspoken emotion as they fixed on me.

It was the man who broke the silence first.

“[If you really wanted to hide, you should’ve closed your eyes too. Your eyes stand out.]”

Of course, I couldn’t understand what he was saying. Yet he spoke, his voice steady as he continued. I didn’t lift my head from where it leaned against the tree, only moved my eyes to glance down at him. His eyes were level with my chest, and for the first time, I saw the crown of his head.

“…You’re lucky,” I murmured impulsively, my hand reaching out.

I didn’t know what year it was now, but it must’ve been at least a thousand years apart from my time. Such an unfathomable span of time.

His coarse-looking hair wasn’t as stiff as I had expected. It twined loosely around my fingers, snagging like threads binding me.

“[Even if you’re playing coy now—]”

“You’re strong,” I interrupted softly. “That must be nice.”

You wouldn’t fall so helplessly, would you? You wouldn’t live in fear of being discarded, of dying. The world is vast, and there must be people stronger than you out there, but somehow I couldn’t imagine you afraid of death.

“I’m so scared of dying here…”

“[Is that your language?]” the man asked, his golden eyes narrowing slightly.

“Are you even afraid of anything?”

I was scared of everything. Everything seemed terrifying to me. A thousand years ago, people were this strong? Humanity was supposed to progress over time, but somehow, we seemed to have regressed.

I lowered my hand to touch his forehead. It was rougher than I expected. The skin beneath my fingers was cracked, uneven, and coarse. I wanted to feel more, to explore the texture, but my arm was too short to reach further.

Just as I began to withdraw my hand, which had been moving toward his cheek, he caught it abruptly. The sudden motion caused me to sway precariously.

“Ah?”

Something felt off. My body wasn’t responding; I couldn’t muster any strength. And despite it being the middle of winter, with me wearing only a single layer, I felt unbearably hot.

As I started to fall, the man caught me effortlessly with one arm, holding me as though I weighed nothing.

“Haa…” I exhaled weakly.

“[Tch. You’re in bad shape, and you still thought it was a good idea to run off in just a single layer. No wonder you ended up like this],” he muttered, clicking his tongue in disapproval.

He untied the fur cloak from his waist and draped it over my shoulders. Then, he took my trembling hand and turned it over, examining my palm.

“[What’s with these hands?]”

He then placed his large, cool hand against my forehead. It was strange—this man always seemed to radiate heat, yet his touch now felt soothing.

“[You’re burning up.]”

I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my ears, as if his hand against my head amplified the sound.

The wind stirred around us, rustling through the coniferous leaves. Behind him, the brilliant red sun rose higher, casting its warm light. In the backlight, his figure was darkened, cloaked in shadow, but his golden eyes shone vividly, capturing my reflection like gemstones.

“…So beautiful…”

A raider. An invader. A murderer. Someone who had hurt me deeply.

And yet, he was breathtakingly beautiful.

It was a word that didn’t seem to suit someone so large and imposing. A man like him, with his broad shoulders and commanding presence, shouldn’t be described that way.

* * *

A fever burned fiercely within me. My head felt so hot it seemed as though it might burst, and I let out heated breaths over and over. Every time a cough escaped my throat, parched and cracked from the heat, it felt as though it might tear apart.

Lukewarm water repeatedly moistened my throat, though the harsh act of pressing against my insides to forcibly open my airway had left me in a state where even the lightest touch against my lips made my mouth instinctively open.

“[Khan, I’ve brought the herbs.]”

“[Leave them and go.]”

“[Understood.]”

With a soft rustle, something was placed beside me. A bitter scent hit my nose, so sharp it made my brow furrow.

“Ugh…”

“[Endure it. If you don’t want to die, you have to take it.]”

At the edge of my hazy vision, I could faintly make out a man chewing a handful of green herbs. Then, he lifted my body, swaddled tightly in thick blankets.

The bitterness completely overwhelmed my senses as the crushed green pulp was forced into my mouth. Before I could resist, it slipped past my lips, which had opened on their own. Clinging to his collar, I struggled to escape, writhing desperately.

The taste was so dreadful I thought I’d prefer my tongue to go numb. Swallowing it quickly might have helped, but this wasn’t a pill—it was too wet, like a foreign, watery mixture.

The awful flavor shocked my eyes open, but my fevered, weakened body quickly slumped again as I squirmed.

The pulp got stuck at the back of my throat, refusing to go down. His tongue, which had been pushing the pulp into my mouth, hesitated for a moment before pressing deeper, nudging the back of my throat.

Reflexively, I gulped. My Adam’s apple bobbed as I swallowed a portion of the bitter liquid. Though I coughed lightly, the man didn’t pull away. He simply continued forcing more of the herbal mixture into me, pressing at my throat the entire time.

I lost count of how many gulps I took. It felt like the bitterness had seeped all the way into my brain. When he finally pulled back, I couldn’t even ease my furrowed brow; instead, I kept retching uncontrollably.

“[Don’t throw it up. Unless you want to eat it again.]”

His tone, unusually curt, made me look up, tears spilling from my fever-clouded eyes.

“[You’ve already slowed us down enough. Tomorrow, no matter your condition, we leave.]”

He reached out, wiping away the tears streaming down my face. He even caught the remnants clinging to my lashes, easing the stinging in my eyes.

“[…So get up by tomorrow, no matter what.]”

With a soft thud, his forehead lightly touched mine. His sharp nose brushed against the curve of mine, tickling slightly. Up close, his eyes—an enigmatic blend of gold and blue—came into focus.

I raised a heavy hand, resting it on his cheek. My fingertips, poking out from bandages, brushed against his rough skin.

His cracked, weathered skin bore faint scars that were hard to notice unless touched. Hidden beneath his dark, earthen complexion, more scars marked the surface—deep and jagged, unlike the unblemished skin of my own body.

Even now, my palms hurt from the cold despite being unharmed. How deep must his wounds have been to leave scars like these? I couldn’t fathom it.

Suddenly, a cold, damp cloth landed on my forehead, soothing my pounding headache.

Why…?

“Why…”

The word barely escaped my lips.

“[Be quiet.]”

“Why did you… come for me?”

“[I said, be quiet.]”

“Why—”

My words were swallowed. He crushed my voice—and my breath—within his own, effortlessly parting my lips and pushing his tongue inside. The bitterness of the herbs lingered, filling my mouth once again.

His tongue gently pressed against the roof of my mouth and traced along my teeth. Saliva that threatened to overflow was drawn into his mouth and swallowed. The man’s tongue, which restrained my limp and aimless one, invaded the soft flesh with a deliberate touch.

This was different from an ordinary kiss. It wasn’t a kiss meant to make me feel something. It felt almost… soothing.

When his lips finally parted from mine, I blinked slowly and gazed at him. He gave a bitter smile, raising his hand to close my eyes. The weight of his palm rested on my eyelids.

“[…Honestly, I thought it didn’t matter if you couldn’t read or write. But now, I’m starting to see it’s more frustrating than I’d imagined.]”

“Mm—”

Ah, even my mouth was blocked again.

“[So, please, just shut up.]”

His voice carried a faint groan, a mix of exasperation and resignation.

“[Your throat is wrecked. If you want to recover quickly, keep quiet.]”

This time, his words were accompanied by a sigh. I didn’t fully understand what he was saying, but it seemed to mean I should stop talking and sleep. But how could I fall asleep? It wasn’t like I had taken a sedative or used a sleep capsule.

I blinked slowly. His hand lingered over my eyes, obstructing my view. Though my eyes couldn’t open fully, I could see a faintly dim view through the gap.

“[…That’s ticklish, you know.]”

In the darkness, I heard the sound of him staggering about. When the weight of his hands lifted from my face, I quietly opened my eyes. He had taken off his shirt, and when our eyes met, he smirked faintly as he noticed me staring blankly at him.

“[You’ve grown more clingy since you got sick.]”

The blanket fluttered as cool air seeped in. Despite feeling unbearably hot just moments ago, the chill sent a shiver through my body.

He slipped under the covers, blocking out the cold air. The pillow I’d been resting on was stolen, replaced by his firm arm beneath my neck. His solid arm supported my head and neck, holding me comfortably.