The One Who Won't Be Abandoned - Chapter 8

Andre stepped out of the cabin, his anxious eyes fixed on the gathering storm clouds overhead.

“It can’t rain…”

If it started to rain, Jeanne would struggle to make her way up the mountain. The thought of Jeanne enduring such hardship weighed heavily on Andre’s chest, filling him with unease.

He was furious with himself for injuring his ankle on the very day Jeanne had to venture into the village. The frustration of being utterly useless to her was almost unbearable.

As a man, Andre felt it was his duty to protect Jeanne. After all, they only had each other; it was the natural thing to do. But in reality, it felt more like he was a burden, relying on her for everything.

The image of Jeanne navigating the treacherous mountain paths alone, sneaking around the shops like a stray cat to avoid people’s stares, made Andre feel an overwhelming sense of inadequacy. He couldn’t help but think of himself as utterly pathetic.

The thick storm clouds obscured the sun, making the evening descend far earlier than usual. Worried that Jeanne might lose her way in the dark forest, Andre lit a bonfire in the cabin yard, ensuring its flames burned bright and high.

He stood, unable to hide his anxiety, staring intently in the direction of the village. The fear that Jeanne might not see the bonfire and head in the wrong direction gnawed at him. He considered going to search for her but worried they might miss each other if he left.

“Jeanne, hurry back,” he murmured aloud, his voice heavy with worry. The words echoed in his mind as he repeated them silently: hurry back.

Unable to endure the wait any longer, Andre, limping on his injured ankle, began to pace through the woods near the cabin.

Moving slowly, he scanned his surroundings, growing increasingly restless. He began calling out, his voice filled with desperation.

“Jeanne!”

Pushing aside branches and tall grass that blocked his view, Andre turned his head in all directions, frantically searching.

“Jeanne!”

The evening had fallen too quickly, even for a day like this. It was far too late. Andre became convinced that Jeanne must have lost her way on the mountain.

The strain of moving around so much began to aggravate his injured ankle, and the pain grew unbearable. Gritting his teeth, Andre eventually collapsed to the ground, unable to go any farther. He fell with an ungraceful thud, sitting there in defeat as he glared venomously at his injured ankle, hidden beneath his trousers.

If only he hadn’t hurt his ankle. If only he could have gone with Jeanne to the village. They could have returned to the cabin together before it got this dark. If only he had been there with her… Andre clenched his teeth, overwhelmed by a tide of regret.

“Damn it!”

Every morning, Andre roamed Mount Kayal, familiarizing himself with its terrain. It wasn’t a place he planned to leave after just a few days, so he wanted to know every inch of it in detail.

Even though he knew it was dangerous, he had climbed the high rock formations for that very reason. From the top of the rocks, the view opened up, revealing Mount Kayal in its entirety, along with the cultivated farmlands below. It was a breathtaking sight and the perfect vantage point to survey the mountain’s surroundings.

But one fateful day, Andre let his guard down. He fell from the rock he had climbed so many times before. Though he hadn’t plunged into the open cliffside, he was still furious with himself—angrily berating his own stupidity as he lay injured.

Now, standing amidst the forest, his face contorted in frustration, Andre tilted his head back and called out Jeanne’s name again, his voice raw and desperate.

“Jeanne!”

Boom! Crash!

The darkened sky answered his cry with a flash of lightning and the deafening rumble of thunder. The ominous clouds, which had been threatening rain all afternoon, finally released their fury, sending heavy raindrops cascading down.

“Haa…”

As the first drops struck the bridge of his nose, Andre let out a deep, trembling sigh. His face, on the verge of breaking into tears, tilted upward toward the sky, but the pouring rain quickly forced him to lower his head in defeat.

The rain, relentless and merciless, turned into a torrential downpour. Andre’s golden hair, soaked and clinging to his face, framed his features, which were twisted in silent despair.

Only when his clothes were completely drenched, and his body chilled to the bone, did he finally force himself to stand. Staggering slightly, he began his slow march back to the cabin.

With every step he took, the expression on his face hardened. The sorrowful droop in his eyes seemed to freeze over, as though the cold rain had seeped into his very soul. The lips that had once called Jeanne’s name so desperately were now firmly pressed together, so tight that not even a sigh could escape. His unsteady gait straightened as he squared his shoulders, standing tall despite his limp.

This was the Andre of the Kaiman estate—a young master born with noble blood, projecting an aura of unyielding perfection. His air of cold resolve and innate strength made his injured leg seem inconsequential. Neither the mud-stained clothes nor the rain-soaked rags could conceal the indomitable spirit he had been born with.

Andre passed by the bonfire pit, now filled with pooling rainwater, without so much as a glance. There was a resolute determination in the way he walked—a decision made, firm and unshaken.

When he reached the cabin, faint light seeped out from the cracks in the door. He paused briefly before it, lifting his hand to grasp the handle.

But as his fingertips brushed against the cold metal, his body froze. He stood motionless, paralyzed as though gripped by an invisible force.

His hand, suspended in midair, began to tremble faintly. A strained whimper escaped his tightly closed lips, and the trembling grew more violent.

Shaking uncontrollably, his hand finally fell away from the door handle. Andre leaned forward, pressing his head hard against the wooden door, and buried his face in his hands.

“Ugh…”

The façade of composure that Andre had desperately tried to maintain crumbled in an instant. The resolve he had so firmly held onto vanished without a trace, dissolving as if it had never been there at all.

The early darkness of the evening, the thought that Jeanne might have lost her way on the unmarked paths—these were nothing but Andre’s hollow hopes.

If she were coming back, Jeanne would have returned to the cabin long ago. If she had the will, the intention to come back, she would have already done so.

Andre had no choice but to face the reality that Jeanne was not coming back to him. For a fleeting moment, he tried to accept this fact with dignity. He tried to understand her, to approach the situation with detachment.

But his fragile resolve was no match for the unrelenting torrent of betrayal and despair that soaked him to his core, just as the rain poured down endlessly upon his trembling body.

The helplessness and self-loathing that had consumed him when he fled, leaving his mother behind, returned to wrap around his still-fragile heart. No—this was worse than the despair he had felt the day the estate burned to the ground.

It was Jeanne who had made it possible for him to set aside the bitterness and pain of his family’s fall. Jeanne’s presence had allowed him to leave behind the life of luxury he had once known, to survive by scavenging berries meant for wild animals, to hunt and stain his hands with the blood of the creatures he killed. It was only because of Jeanne that Andre had been able to endure it all.

Without her, Andre knew he couldn’t rise from the abyss of despair and loneliness that now loomed before him. He was incapable. The mere thought of her absence—a life without Jeanne by his side—left him aching with a loneliness so profound it threatened to consume him. Jeanne was his only pillar, the only thing holding him up, and without her, he would collapse.

Lowering his hands from his face, Andre revealed bloodshot eyes brimming with tears—or perhaps it was just the rain that ran down his cheeks. He turned and leaned his back against the cabin door, sinking slowly to the ground, defeated.

The light seeping from the cabin door couldn’t illuminate the yard outside. And so, with his back to the faint glow of the cabin, Andre’s view was swallowed by utter darkness.

His vacant, soulless gaze fell on the blackened forest ahead. It was the direction Jeanne had gone. The direction of the village. The direction he had cast his longing stares countless times throughout the day.

The moment Andre surrendered, giving up on ever rising from where he sat, something changed. The relentless sound of rain was joined by another noise—a harsh, labored breathing cutting through the downpour.

“Haah… hah… damn it…”

The moment the coarse breathing and gruff curses brushed against Andre’s ears, the incessant sound of rain seemed to fade. Despite the unrelenting downpour, the noise of the rain diminished as if swallowed up by the night.

As the rain’s sound disappeared entirely, a voice, clear as a bell and unmistakably familiar, filled the silence like an echo in his mind.

“Haah… haah… Why… why are you just sitting there? Move. I’m about to drop dead here.”

“……”

“This is so heavy! I swear my arms are going to fall off.”

A dark silhouette drew closer, accompanied by the grumbling voice of someone treating him like an obstacle.

Soaking wet and scowling, there stood his pillar of support—Jeanne. The person Andre had waited for, longed for, and, in his despair, nearly given up on. She was there, standing before him.

“Why are you like this? Did you fall again? Can’t get up?”

Jeanne, setting her burdens down beside him, crouched to inspect him with eyes full of worry.

Her pale face, made even paler by the rain, was etched with concern for Andre. As she leaned closer, water droplets from her soaked dark brown hair dripped onto his forehead and cheeks. Then, her slender fingers, cold from the rain, gently touched his face.

“What’s wrong?”

From her cold touch, Andre felt warmth—not the warmth of temperature, but a profound, soul-deep comfort. It was a warmth so powerful that it dispelled the despair he had been drowning in, leaving it to dissolve like smoke blown away by the wind.

“Jeanne.”

Jeanne. You are my world. My safe haven, my unwavering pillar, holding me together so I won’t collapse.

I know the resentment you couldn’t quite hide. And it’s okay. Even so, I’ll cling to you. I need you. To survive, I need you by my side.

“If the rain had stopped, I was going to burn the cabin.”

“……”

“I was going to end what should have ended at the estate, right here in this cabin.”

“…Master.”

“If you hadn’t come back… I really would have done it.”

But you came back. So I won’t.

I won’t die.

To think I even entertained the idea of leaving you behind. How foolish of me.

I’ll live, Jeanne. Because where you are is where I belong.