Chapter 7 : Unavoidable Questions

He raised his hands with confidence, gripping the back of the great black steed. With a single, fluid motion, he leapt upward, his legs pressing against the horse's flank for balance. Then, shifting his weight, he swung his right leg over the beast's back, settling himself into place.

"Fuuuhh..."

A breath of relief escaped him, a small smirk forming at his own success. He turned toward her, expecting acknowledgment of his skill—only to find her staring at him with narrowed eyes, an unreadable expression on her face.

Why is she looking at me like that?

Then, it struck him.

Her hand was still extended toward him. She had meant to help him up, but he had climbed on without so much as a glance in her direction.

"…Uhh… should I get down and—?" His voice was small, uncertain.

"There's no need." Her tone was firm.

Is she angry?

Of course she was mad. If he had been you in her place, offering help only to be ignored, he would have been irritated too. Worse still, you hadn't even acknowledged it—hadn't even refused her help properly. You had simply dismissed it altogether.

"…Sorry."

She sighed, "Hah… It's fine. As long as you're safe." Her voice had softened, the irritation fading into quiet relief.

With that, she turned her gaze forward, taking the reins in her hands. She slid them down her fingers with practiced ease, adjusting them between her thumb and forefinger, her grip firm yet relaxed. Once she had settled, she straightened her posture—a perfect line from head to hip to heel—before gently pressing her legs against the horse's sides.

Woah—!

The moment the beast began to move, he instinctively grabbed onto her, his arms wrapping tightly around her waist.

"Hold on tight!" she called out.

He barely needed the warning. His heart pounded in his chest—he had never ridden a horse before, not even in earth. The moment he felt the powerful muscles beneath him shift, his body reacted on its own. Clutching her even tighter, he squeezed his eyes shut in fear.

"Let's go, Meter!" she commanded.

What the—Meter?

His eyes snapped open in surprise, but before he could question the name, the horse moved. No—launched forward.

WAH!!—! In his mind.

He yelped, burying his face against her back as the horse surged ahead with breathtaking speed.

"W-Wait! Don't go so fast!" His voice cracked with panic as he clung onto her, his entire body tensed.

"Ghk—! Not so tight—!" she choked out, struggling for breath. "I can't—breathe—!"

"N-No! I'm scared!"

"Alright, alright! I'll slow down—just loosen your grip first!" she pleaded.

It was only when he actually felt the horse's pace slow that he hesitantly released his desperate hold.

As the horse's gallop steadied into a smooth canter. She exhaled, shaking her head as if trying to process what just happened. Then, glancing over her shoulder, she fixed him with an incredulous stare.

"…What's wrong with you?"

His face burned with embarrassment. "...Please don't go so fast. I—I'm scared." His voice had shrunk into a whisper, his arms still loosely wrapped around her waist.

She looked at him—really looked at him—her expression shifting from disbelief to something closer to concern. Gently, she reached down, placing her hand over his.

"Theo…" Her voice was quiet now, laced with worry. "Did… something happen to you?"

His breath caught.

Sh*t. Does that mean that Theo likes to ride horse fast? Why it's need to be horse?!

He didn't answer. His mind whirled, trying to come up with an excuse, a distraction—anything to steer the conversation away from dangerous territory. But before he could gather his thoughts, she spoke again.

"…What is your full name?"

His heart stopped.

A cold sweat ran down his back. He lifted his gaze, staring at her. There was no accusation in her eyes—just concern. He immediately feel guilty and looking down again.

My name? If my real full name, I know but the name of the boy whose body I now inhabited? as if I know!

He had no idea. In his mind full of worries that his identity will known, he also thought about what answer he need to give her but finally, he gave her the answer.

"…Theo." His voice was barely above a whisper.

She didn't waver. "What is your full name?"

He become even more worries because she repeated the question she was asked.

Damn it. Why was she pressing the question? Did she already suspect something?

He, without knowing what to answer, just answering what was on his mind.

"…Theodore."

A pause. She wasn't satisfied.

"And your surname?"

He froze because she has given him a new question that is even more difficult.

Surname? As if I know!

A sinking dread settled in his stomach. He didn't know.

He bit his lip, mind racing. If he stayed silent, she would definitely know something was wrong. He had to say something.

Maybe I can guess—maybe I can get it right, just like before!

Taking a deep breath, he went with the first surname that came to mind.

"…Johnson."

The moment the word left his mouth, the horse stopped.

The sudden halt jolted him, and he instinctively looked up at her.

She was staring at him, eyes wide with shock. Her entire body had gone rigid, and now she was really looking at him—scanning him from head to toe, as if seeing him for the first time.

Shit! Had I just said something wrong? Was 'Johnson' a dangerous name? Why was she looking at me like that?!

Her lips parted slightly before she spoke again, her voice laced with confusion.

"…What is my name?"

His stomach dropped.

Why that question?!

He immediately looking down back and squeezed his eyes shut, cursing his luck. He had no choice—he had to take another wild guess.

"…Lily."

Silence.

"…Who the hell is Lily?"

His face burned scarlet.

Oh god.

A long sigh escaped her lips. "Hah… Why didn't you just say that you don't remember?"

"…If I said that, I thought you'd kill me."

There was a beat of silence for a moment then,"Pfft—Hahahaha!!" Her laughter rang through the air, loud and full of amusement.

"Why the hell would I kill you for that?!" she gasped between laughs, wiping tears from her eyes, "Ridiculous!"

He buried his face in his hands, utterly humiliated. This was going to be so much harder than he thought. Later, she regarded him carefully, her gaze unwavering.

"Then, can you tell me what you do remember?"

His thoughts tangled.

Should I tell her the truth—that I don't have any memories about this body? Or should I confess that I wasn't even from this world? If I claimed amnesia, there was a high chance she wouldn't believe me. But if I admitted that I was from beyond this world… That was a gamble. A dangerous one. Fifty-fifty. Either she thinks I'm insane—or she kills me on the spot.

A silence stretched between them as he wrestled with the decision. In the end, he exhaled slowly, raising his gaze to meet hers.

"…I don't remember anything."

She narrowed her eyes slightly, scrutinizing him. "Took you long enough to answer."

He winced, averting his eyes. "Uhh..."

She said nothing more, only sighed before reaching into the black leather bag at front of her. He watched as she rummaged through it, her movements swift and methodical. After several moments, she pulled out a heavy, dark brown garment—thick, well-worn, and lined with an unfamiliar sigil embroidered along its edges.

She turned to him, holding it out. "Since this will be a long journey, you should wear this cloak."

His brows furrowed.

"…A long journey?" In confusion.

She gave him a knowing look. "You have many questions, don't you?"

That was true. He had far too many questions—about her, this world, himself.

Without hesitation, he answered, "Well… yes?"

"Then wear the cloak."

He hesitated only briefly before loosening his grip around her waist and accepting the garment. The fabric was unexpectedly heavy in his hands, yet softer than he expected. He turned it over, studying it, still perplexed by her sudden offer.

"…Why are you giving me this?" He glanced at her, wariness creeping into his tone. "Is this some… ceremonial shroud? To cover my body when I die?"

She scoffed. "We're heading to a city to buy supplies," she explained. "But your face cannot be seen by outsiders. Especially your eyes." While she lifted two fingers, pointing directly at his eyes.

Instinctively, he leaned back slightly, blinking at her. "…My eyes?"

She simply nodded.

His frown deepened. "What's wrong with my eyes?"

"That—" She exhaled. "—is precisely why I said this will be a long journey." She gestured toward the cloak again. "Put it on first. I'll explain later."

Still uncertain, he looked down at the garment in his hands. His curiosity burned, but he knew pressing her further would get him nowhere.

Sigh... No choice, then.

Resigned, he unfolded the cloak, letting the fabric drape over his hands. But the more he examined it, the more he realized something unsettling—He had absolutely no idea how to put it on.

Slowly, he lifted his gaze back to her, hesitant.

She caught his look immediately. "What?"

He hesitated before mumbling, "…I don't know how to wear this."

Her expression froze.

"…You don't know how to wear a cloak? For real?" Disbelief laced her voice.

"…Yes."

A long silence followed.

She clapped a hand to her forehead.

"This is too much," she muttered, exasperated. "There's no way you don't know how to wear a cloak."

"Unfortunately," he sighed, "I really don't."

For a moment, she simply stared at him. Then, with an air of pure resignation, she buried her face in both hands.

"You have fallen too far, Theo."

Her voice was grave.