Chapter 70

Calmly sipping tea for a while, I suddenly thought of my gun. I walked over to the drawer, retrieved the pistol, and a handful of bullets.

“When it was in his hands, I hated it so much.”

One by one, I loaded the bullets into the empty magazine.

As always, I tucked the gun discreetly into my waistband, ensuring it was out of sight.

Knock, knock.

Leaving the remaining bullets standing upright on the table, I stared blankly around the room until someone knocked at the door.

Since there was only one person who could possibly visit, I quickly ran to the door and opened it.

The sensation of opening a door with my own hands for the first time in ages—it felt oddly moving.

Even when my limbs were intact, I hadn’t been free to move. I had always been restrained, unable to reach the door. And the one time I managed to approach a door that opened, it had been deliberately left ajar—only for me to step out and be confronted by guards who blocked my way, leaving me in despair.

Not exactly a pleasant memory.

But now, I am free. And it would be rude to stay gloomy in front of the person who had come to rescue me.

Yes, it would be rude. He had come looking for me.

When I opened the door, I froze for a moment.

It wasn’t because of any negative emotion.

It was simply because Evan was standing right there.

While I had been locked away, I had convinced myself it was wishful thinking to believe Evan would save me—a self-inflicted torment.

But here he was. The Evan who had pulled me out of that hell, standing before me.

The same Evan who had promised I wouldn’t suffer again, that I wouldn’t face anything terrible again, that he would protect me.

Come to think of it, if I’d been in my right mind when I first heard him say such things, I might’ve been embarrassed. I wonder if my face turned red back then.

At the time, my eyes had been gouged out, so I couldn’t even recall what expression Evan wore as he spoke those words to me.

Ahaha. I never realized how much I’d missed being able to see properly.

“Hello.”

I raised the corners of my lips in a small smile, greeting him with a slightly warm feeling in my chest.

When I greeted him, he returned the greeting with a faint smile. His tone was much calmer than the Evan I remembered.

“Yes. Hello.”

After exchanging light pleasantries without any dramatic displays of emotion, I invited Evan inside.

“How about coming in and having some tea?”

Evan nodded in response rather than speaking.

The sorrowful, rage-filled voice I remembered from before was gone, replaced by a calm demeanor as he quietly took a seat.

I went to the shelf where I kept tea and other items like coffee and chocolate. 

Once the tea was brewed, I turned to bring it to him, only to notice Evan inspecting the bullets I’d left on the table.

“What’s with the bullets?” he asked.

“There’s someone I want to shoot.”

At my response, a heavy silence fell.

I approached, placing the tea in front of him and setting some chocolate on the table. 

Evan, now looking slightly uncomfortable, asked hesitantly:

“It’s not me… or yourself, is it?”

“Thankfully, no.”

I took a sip of the tea.

The aroma of the tea mingled with the bittersweet taste of the chocolate. It was the first time in ages I’d eaten something resembling proper food. As I savored it, I noticed Evan tilting his head slightly, as though puzzled.

“Is something bothering you?”

“It’s just… this isn’t what I expected.”

Though I understood what he meant, I feigned ignorance and asked, “What do you mean?”

After hesitating a moment, Evan began speaking.

His voice was soft, comforting—completely unlike the sharp tone he’d used when promising to save me.

“I was expecting a dramatic reunion. You, bursting into tears as soon as you saw me, throwing yourself into my arms and crying. And I’d comfort you, holding you and patting your back.”

“Well… that does sound nice.”

“Right?”

“But let’s save the dramatic reunion for later. For now, let’s enjoy the tea and chocolate.
I’ve been waiting to share this. It’s been nearly six months since I’ve had real food—this is a moment to celebrate.”

“Ah…”

Evan seemed momentarily speechless, as though the thought hadn’t occurred to him.

“Right. That makes sense.”

We sat in silence, sipping tea and eating chocolate. There was a faint sense of awkwardness, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

“You seem surprisingly composed after everything you’ve been through,” he commented.

“Well, I have to be. This is all I have left— A bit of dignity, a bit of common sense, and a handful of bullets. And a stubbornness that makes me difficult to deal with, even when being dragged around.”

Evan frowned slightly but quickly smoothed his expression.

I silently savored the sweetness of the chocolate, letting it melt in my mouth. 

Its taste was enough to momentarily erase the memory of having a hose shoved down my throat.

After about ten minutes, Evan set down his tea and spoke softly.

“Erica, can I give you a hug?”

Without answering, I stood and opened my arms.

Evan stepped forward and embraced me tightly.

The feeling wasn’t unpleasant, but as he softly murmured apologies in my ear, a subtle sadness crept into me.

“It’s okay,” I said. “If you hadn’t come to save me, I would’ve been lost—completely broken, just another puppet in that palace.”

Evan continued apologizing, his voice trembling slightly.

“You don’t need to apologize. Until now, no one ever cared about me. But now, I have someone.”

There were no sobs or tears of joy—both of us had grown too parched for such displays.

Still, I felt a single tear trail down my cheek. I brushed it against his shoulder before stepping back.

As he lowered me back to the ground, I wobbled slightly and collapsed onto the bed.

“Heh, just a joke,” I said, chuckling lightly.

Evan pouted slightly, his expression softening.

For the first time in a long while, I felt like I could breathe.

The man who had once dismissed me and torn me apart with his words had come back, changed, and saved me.

“Evan,” I said, staring at the ceiling. “Promise me something.”

“Sure.”

“Don’t leave me alone again.”

Evan flinched slightly but then gave a warm smile.

“For how long?”

“Until I die.”

He chuckled at my morbid humor.

“After all I’ve done to chase you across lifetimes, that’s the least I can do.”

“Touching.”

For a moment, I knelt before him and kissed the back of his hand—a gesture of gratitude and reverence.

The warmth of another human touch after so long felt more moving than any piece of chocolate.

Strangely enough, it even made me smile.