Chapter 35: The Price of Life and an Unexpected Apology

Following the sound, my gaze fell upon the soldier lying on the ground. His face was contorted in agony, his forehead slick with cold sweat, and his thick lips, pale and weak, barely concealed his suffering.

Even with his left arm bandaged tightly, blood ceaselessly seeped from the wound. Each drop, forming a thin crimson line on the earth, drained away his life and brought with it waves of agonizing pain.

He uttered no cry. Instead, he gripped the ground tightly with his other hand, his nails digging deep into the soil, as if to anchor himself against the searing torment within his body.

The words, ‘Just end it quickly,’ had turned into a desperate plea, wrung from him by the sheer physical pain.

Moen Rodd approached the soldier in silence, slowly drawing the sword from the man’s waist. He raised it with agonizing slowness, lifting it high above his head.

“Don’t worry, it will be over soon.”

Moen Rodd whispered to the soldier, his voice soft, like a gentle goodnight.

I could not bear to watch this scene unfold any longer. “Wait! I might have a way!” I cried out to him.

Moen Rodd’s hand froze mid-air for an instant.

Then, both he and Allen simultaneously turned perplexed gazes upon me. Their unspoken question was clear: ‘If you have a way, try it now!’

Taking a deep breath, I turned my head, searching for any burning fires nearby.

Though it was merely a nascent conjecture, based on the knowledge and experience I had gained in another world, this method might just prove viable.

“Hold on, let me look… Ah, there!”

I pulled a half-burnt piece of firewood from a nearby blaze, blew away the flames and some ash, and then rushed back to the severely wounded soldier.

Presumably due to excessive blood loss, the man had already fallen into a coma, his breath faint.

There was no time for hesitation. I quickly knelt, deftly undoing the bandage on his left arm. In an instant, the mangled, exposed flesh of the wound was laid bare before my eyes.

As if sensing my intent, Allen, who stood beside me, suddenly uttered a startled, uncertain sound.

“Hey, you woman, you’re not actually going to—”

I did not give him a chance to stop me. With lightning speed, I pressed the glowing red charcoal directly onto the wound!

“Aaaargh!”

The searing pain, like that of a red-hot iron, was immediately effective. The soldier, who had been unconscious, was jolted awake by the burn, letting out a shriek like a wailing ghost.

Perhaps the pain was too intense, or perhaps his body was simply too weak. He only remained conscious for a brief moment, unable to utter a single word before once again succumbing to unconsciousness from the agony.

“What are you doing? You wretch!”

Seeing my actions, Allen angrily drew his sword and lunged at me.

Zheng—

A clash of steel rang out, and his advance was halted by a powerful force, several meters away from me. He could not move another inch.

Allen’s face registered both indignation and confusion as he looked at Moen Rodd, who stood before him, blocking his path with a single sword.

“Brother? Why are you stopping me!? This woman is torturing our man!”

“Don’t be impulsive, Allen. Look at the wound.”

“What about the wound’s… Eh? The blood… the blood has actually stopped?”

Just as Allen expressed his astonishment, I myself felt a surge of excitement at the result.

Indeed, using red-hot charcoal to stop bleeding was the method I had conceived of moments ago.

Though I was no medical student, relying on some chemistry knowledge from my previous life, I understood the effects of high temperatures.

A piece of red-hot charcoal, with a temperature ranging from 500°C to 800°C, could easily cauterize the skin and muscles around a wound, causing localized proteins to denature rapidly and blood to coagulate quickly. This would form a physical barrier, preventing further blood loss.

When applied correctly, this method could effectively staunch bleeding, much like doctors often use electrocautery for thermal coagulation during gastrointestinal endoscopic procedures.

However, ultimately, I was not a professional doctor, and I had little confidence in the success of this particular method of hemostasis. Moreover, the current conditions were far too primitive; unlike a hospital, sterility could not be guaranteed. Using this method to stop bleeding was, in itself, a gamble.

Burns and subsequent infection could also claim the soldier’s life later on. Yet, frankly, there was no time to consider such trivialities now. Saving his life was paramount.

After confirming that the wound had been sufficiently coagulated by the high heat, I placed my hand beneath the soldier’s nose. Confirming he was still breathing, I wiped away a bead of sweat and sighed in relief. “It worked!”

Soon, the injured soldier was carried on Allen’s back to one of the accompanying supply wagons, while the other body was placed in a different one.

Afterward, Allen sincerely apologized to me, explaining that his earlier actions were purely instinctive. He had never imagined I would actually possess a method to save the soldier’s life.

“Speaking of which, you truly live up to being a woman from the city. Even a maid can be so knowledgeable!”

He remarked, his words now devoid of their previous coldness.

After spending some time tidying the battleground, our group once again set off for Windwhisper Town.

This time, however, our pace was significantly slower, and our reconnaissance efforts were greatly intensified to prevent another sudden ambush like before.

I remained in the same carriage as Moen Rodd. This was partly due to my current status as his maid, but also because I personally felt safest staying by his side.

For some unknown reason, though, Moen Rodd maintained a certain distance from me in the carriage this time. He became unusually silent, and his gaze rarely lingered on me.

‘Was acting crazy actually effective? Did I really scare him?’

I pondered inwardly, finding it utterly bizarre. Logically, as a lord, Moen Rodd should have been furious at such an affront from a subordinate like me. Instead of retaliating or punishing me, he seemed to have become more polite?

‘Could this guy just be a blustering coward, too timid to fight back after being scolded?’

As this strange thought crossed my mind, I felt my gaze upon him become somewhat… abnormal.

Yet, upon reflection, I dismissed it as unlikely. After all, during the enemy attack, he had immediately shielded me with his own body. A coward would never have made such a move.

Just as I was lost in these chaotic thoughts, Moen Rodd suddenly spoke to me.

“I’m sorry.”

“Huh?” I suspected I had misheard, and questioned him back. “What did you just… say?”

Moen Rodd fixed his solemn gaze upon me, straightened his posture, took a deep breath, and spoke with genuine sincerity.

“I apologize for my previous words.”

My eyes slowly widened, and my breath hitched. The unreality of the moment made me feel as if I were dreaming.

It was not my fault; Lord Axas had never shown me a pleasant expression during my time in Coldwind Territory. This was the first time I had ever heard a lord apologize to me!

“I reflected on our conversation in the carriage earlier and realized my words were indeed thoughtless. While I was angry at your choice to forgo ‘freedom’ at the time, thinking back now, perhaps it was wrong of me to presumptuously put myself in another’s shoes and imagine a so-called ‘correct choice.’ Moreover, my understanding of you was limited to ‘a beautiful, submissive maid who endures hardship.’ I did not know you, nor did I know that your body… had suffered such misfortune.”

As he spoke, Moen Rodd seemed too embarrassed to look at me, his gaze dropping slightly, concealing his guilt.

His actions left me speechless, a mixture of amusement and exasperation. ‘So this guy had been thinking about how to apologize to me all this time?’

How peculiar… I had never met a lord who treated a subordinate like a human being.

‘Damn it, why am I starting to feel a fondness for him deep down?’

‘Is this Stockholm Syndrome?’

Nevertheless, Moen Rodd’s actions undeniably created the impression that ‘this guy isn’t so bad.’ The resistance and fear I had harbored in my heart for him gradually dissipated.

After a moment’s thought, I decided to offer him a smile. “It’s alright, Master. I no longer mind.”

As I uttered those words, I felt a slight unease myself. Having grown accustomed to the rigidly hierarchical concepts of this world, this was the first time I had spoken to a lord in such a manner, as a subordinate.

This lord… was truly strange.