Chapter 110: Borrowed Time

For the first few days, Julian could barely leave the bamboo bed.

The wounds covering his body were more severe than he had realized. Deep gashes lined his arms and back, while angry bruises stained his ribs and shoulders in shades of purple and black. Even the slightest movement sent pain rippling through him.

Yet every morning, before the first rays of sunlight crept through the cracks of the thatched walls, Rosella would already be beside him.

She would quietly replace the herbal poultice on his wounds, her slender fingers gentle enough that he scarcely felt the sting.

"Does it hurt?" she would ask.

Julian would shake his head.

"No."

It was a lie every single time.

Rosella always knew.

"You don’t have to pretend to be strong," she would say with an amused smile before blowing softly on the fresh herbs she had just applied.

Oddly enough...

The pain truly seemed to lessen afterward.

...

The little thatched house sat at the edge of a forgotten village nestled between emerald hills and the valley filled with endless fields of wildflowers.

Life there moved at a pace Julian had never imagined possible. Everything was simple, and time seemed slower than he remembered.

Roosters announced the dawn.

The few children laughed as they chased one another along dusty paths.

Women washed clothes beside the river while exchanging stories that carried on the breeze.

At sunset, smoke curled lazily from every kitchen as families gathered for dinner.

Then everything turned dark as oil lamps and torches were put out.

It was a life untouched by ambition. Untouched by power. Untouched by greed.

Julian often wondered if he had once belonged in such a peaceful place.

But whenever he searched his memories...

He found only darkness.

His past remained a locked door with no key.

...

Weeks passed. His strength slowly returned.

Unable to remain idle while Rosella and her older brother worked from sunrise until dusk, Julian insisted on helping.

"You should rest," Rosella protested.

"I’ve rested long enough."

She folded her arms.

"You nearly died."

"I’m still alive."

She sighed in defeat.

"Fine. But only light work."

That afternoon, Julian carried bundles of firewood back to the small house.

The following day, he repaired the broken fence surrounding their vegetable garden.

Then he helped mend the leaking roof before the coming rains.

To Rosella’s surprise...

He learned remarkably fast. Whenever he picked up an unfamiliar tool, it felt strangely natural in his hands.

It would only take him a short time to learn.

Even he found it unsettling.

"There are times," he admitted one evening while sharpening an axe, "when I feel like someone else is guiding my hands."

Rosella looked at him across the fire.

"Perhaps memories don’t live only in the mind."

He looked up.

"What do you mean?"

She smiled.

"I think the heart remembers too."

For reasons he couldn’t explain...

Those words lingered with him long after the conversation ended.

...

As the days slipped into weeks, Julian found himself noticing little things about Rosella.

How she always gave the larger portion of food to her brother while pretending she wasn’t hungry.

How she secretly left bowls of soup outside the homes of elderly villagers.

How children instinctively ran toward her whenever they scraped a knee.

How every stray animal in the village somehow found its way to their cottage.

She possessed a kindness so effortless that it never seemed like a sacrifice.

It was simply who she was.

One afternoon, while gathering medicinal herbs in the forest, Rosella stretched to reach a cluster of white blossoms growing along a rocky ledge.

The earth beneath her foot suddenly crumbled.

"Rosella!"

Julian lunged forward. His hand caught hers just as she slipped.

For one terrifying moment, she dangled over the steep slope.

With every ounce of strength he had, Julian pulled her back onto solid ground.

The moment she stumbled into his chest, he wrapped both arms around her. Neither of them spoke.

Her heart pounded wildly against his.

So did his.

Only when he realized he had no intention of letting go did he slowly loosen his embrace.

Rosella stepped back first.

Her cheeks had turned a delicate shade of pink.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Julian simply nodded. Yet for the rest of the walk home...

His hand unconsciously remained close enough to hers that, if she reached out, their fingers would have touched.

...

That night, sleep refused to come. Julian stepped outside. The moon hung low over the valley, bathing the fields in silver light.

He heard footsteps behind him.

Rosella handed him a steaming cup of herbal tea.

"You’ve been thinking again."

He smiled faintly.

"Is it that obvious?"

"You only stare at the moon when your memories trouble you."

He accepted the cup.

"What if..." he began quietly, "...I’m not a good man?"

Rosella frowned.

"What makes you think that?"

"I don’t know who I was."

"You don’t."

"What if I abandoned my family?"

"You don’t know that."

"What if I’ve hurt people?"

"You don’t know that either."

Julian lowered his gaze.

"I could belong to someone."

Rosella’s fingers tightened around her cup.

For a fleeting moment, something unreadable crossed her eyes.

Then she forced a smile.

"Maybe."

The single word carried a weight neither of them acknowledged.

She turned toward the moonlit fields.

"But the man I’ve come to know..."

She looked back at him.

"...would never choose to hurt anyone."

Julian stared at her. No one had ever looked at him with such unwavering faith.

At least...

No one he could remember.

Something stirred deep within his chest.

It was warm and comforting. Dangerously irresistible.

Without thinking, he reached out and gently brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Their eyes met.

Time itself seemed to pause.

Neither noticed the elderly village healer watching from the shadows beyond the garden.

The old woman sighed softly.

"So..."

Her weathered eyes drifted toward the distant mountains.

"It has begun."

What neither Julian nor Rosella knew...

was that somewhere beyond those mountains, men were still searching tirelessly for the missing heir whose disappearance had shaken the capital.

And with every passing day...

They were drawing closer.