The Weight of Responsibility

The first thing that hit me when I woke up was the sharp scent of medicine. It clung to my throat, thick and sterile, making my first exhale feel sluggish. My body ached, though the pain had dulled considerably.

Blinking away the haze, I took in my surroundings. The dim glow of lanterns flickered against stone walls, casting long shadows. Shelves lined with glass bottles and aged scrolls surrounded the room, marking it unmistakably as an infirmary.

Raising a hand to my face, I brushed my fingers over my face and cheeks. The swelling was gone, as was the bruising. Either a healer had worked on me, or I'd been in a coma for years.

A low rustling sound caught my attention. Across the room, an old man sat in a chair, idly running a finger through his long beard, which already turned completely white. His posture was relaxed, but his sharp eyes skimmed over a thick book. The dry crackle of a page turning filled the silence.

Healers were rare in this world. The healing element was called divine power among people was vastly different from the other mana elements found throughout the empire. It was abundant only in Sanctora, a theocracy where the Head Priest wielded the most influence, far surpassing that of any noble. They held a monopoly over healers, and other countries had to pay exorbitant fees for their services.

This old man… he..... —I didn't know his name. I hadn't seen him in the game. From Nathan's fragmented memories, I knew he was an occasional guest at our estate, someone treated with unusual deference.

It seemed, for once, luck angel had decided to wave at me. His visit had coincided perfectly with my latest beating. If not for him, I'd likely be writhing in agony, my face stitched together like a patchwork doll.

"Mhrrm..."

I cleared my throat. 

"How long was I out?"

He barely looked up. "Hmm... two broken ribs, a fractured jaw, a broken nose, severe intestinal bruising, multiple facial muscle tears… I expected you to sleep atleast for a day. But you woke up after just ten hours. Your body has remarkable endurance."

'Ah, so I'm good for something after all—being a punching bag.'

I sighed, rubbing my temples. Ten hours. That meant it was past midnight. I glanced at the window—the sky outside was a deep, endless black, the moon half-hidden behind drifting clouds. 

Then, memories surged back. The test with Clara. Breakfast. The brutal beating. The sneering faces of the servants as they watched me collapse. The pain of dragging myself to the training hall.

'Ah!'

And then it hit me.

Where is Clara?

"Did a maid girl with auburn hair visit me while I was unconscious?" I asked, my voice tense.

The old man's gaze sharpened. "You wake up after ten hours, and your first concern is a maid? Well, well. Brielle's child certainly lives up to his reputation." His tone dripped with sarcasm.

'Argh... for god's sake.'

I sat up abruptly, my ribs protesting. Had she left? No. Knowing her, she was still—

A sinking feeling settled in my gut.

"What are you doing, idiot?" The old man shot me a warning look. "Do you think you can take revenge with this powerless body? I healed your wounds, but your body is still recovering from physical and mental exhaustion."

'Revenge, huh.'

I had burned with rage when that knight crushed me under his boot, when I couldn't even land a single punch, when everyone laughed at my misery.

But now, my head felt clearer, my body was sore, my muscles sluggish—maybe this old man's doing as well. The anger still simmered, but there was something more pressing.

I needed to check on Clara.

"I won't take revenge. At least not yet." First, I needed to find out why that knight attacked me in the first place.

"Ohh… you are more level-headed than I expected. It seems, the rumors aren't entirely true."

"Yeah, at least you understand it now, you should always take rumours with a pinch of salt" I shot back, matching his dry tone.

He chuckled, a low sound filled with amusement. "Haha! Look at this brat. He is lecturing me at this age."

"Learning has no age limit grandpa. If you ever need more wisdom, come find me. I'll teach you—provided you do me a favor in return." I smirked, enjoying the shift in power.

"Huh?"

Ignoring the old man's raised brow, I pushed myself off the bed and strode toward the door. My body still felt sluggish, but urgency overrode the discomfort. I stepped outside and moved to training hall. 

The air felt chill outside making my body shiver slightly. The infirmary wasn't far from the training hall. When I arrived, silence stretched around me like a suffocating fog. And then—I saw her.

Clara was still there.

She sat exactly where I had left her, hands resting in her lap, her body eerily still. Had she been trying to form a mana circle this entire time?

I stepped closer. The cloud covering the moon moved, casting a dim light on her face which helped me to see how pale she looked, how exhaustion had drained what little color she had. Her lips was dry with dehydration and body shivered slightly with cold. A pang of pity and guilty tightened my chest.

How long had she endured this? Sitting under the scorching sun, with no food, no water, no break?

She suffered all this because of my Carelessness. It was my mistake, I shouldn't have left her alone with her training. Atleast I should have told her to pause before leaving. 

Deep inside a twisted part of me was satisfied, knowing I held a complete authority over her life, but I failed to grasp the crushing weight of responsibility that came with it.

Under the moonlight I made a silent vow: never again would I abandon her like this.

"Clara." My voice was firm but quiet.

She flinched but didn't respond. Her hands trembled in her lap, her legs shaking from sitting in a lotus position for too long.

I crouched before her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "That's enough. You need to rest."

Her eyes fluttered open locking on to mine, hazy and unfocused, before darting away. She looked down, as if she'd committed some grave crime. Her mouth parted open but no voice came out.

I stood and stepped back, giving her space. Understanding my intention, she tried to stand—but her legs numb, buckled. She collapsed onto her back, gasping softly.

Again, she tried, using her hands for support, but they shook violently, her arms too weak to bear her weight.

A lump formed in my throat, choking me. My chest constricted, aching as I watched her wrestle with her own body weight, her struggles hurted me more than the thrashing i got in the morning.

I took a step closer. She froze, terror flashing across her face. She must have I was going to punish her.

Instead, I turned around and crouched before her.

"Hop on."

"heh!"

Seconds passed but I didn't felt any movements from her. As my back was facing against her, I couldn't look at her expression somehow I knew what she was thinking.

Two days ago, I was her tormentor. Now, I was offering to carry her. It must've made no sense to her.

But I didn't plan to convince her. If I wanted to prove I wasn't the old Nathan, I had to do it through actions, not words.

"Clara, come on. It's already past midnight."

Hesitantly, her hands brushed against my shoulders—barely applying any pressure.

I sighed inwardly. How was I supposed to carry her if she hesitated this much?

Without waiting any longer, I grabbed her wrists and pulled her onto my back. She let out a soft "Ehh" as she lost her balance, tumbling against me, her chest pressing warmly against my back.

Summoning the last of my strength, I stood up. My tired legs nearly gave way, but I forced myself to stay upright and carried her.

Her delicate, thin hands instinctively clung to my neck as she tried to steady herself.

I adjusted my grip on her thighs, shifting her weight.

"Huh..." A frown crept onto my face. She was too light. Was she not eating properly? What was her routine when she wasn't with Nathan? Did she even have a hobby? A flood of thoughts filled my mind as I made my way back to the mansion.

The guards on night duty cast disdainful glances at me, their expressions unreadable yet accusing. I could already guess what kind of thoughts were running through their minds. Anger flared inside me, but I couldn't do anything. I walked past them, the events of the day still weighing heavily on me.

Growl...

A faint rumbling sound made my thoughts halt.

Clara's stomach.

She didn't say a word. Instead, she stiffened, burying her face in my back.

I paused and turned toward the dining hall with a soft chuckle.

It was empty—no maids, no servants in sight. Placing Clara on a chair, I headed into the kitchen. Back on Earth, I had cooked meals for myself and my mother—especially when she was ill. Making a simple vegetable soup was easy enough.

I handed the bowl to her. "Drink."

She obeyed in silence, emptying it quickly. I refilled it without a word, continuing until I sensed hesitation in her movements.

After the late dinner, I carried her to my room. Nathan's memories held no clue about where she usually stayed, so I had no other choice.

Gently, I placed her on the bed, then moved to the floor. Sleeping beside her would only make her uneasy. Clara's expression shifted—fear, confusion, hesitation. She watched me as I lay down on the cold floor.

"Close your eyes and sleep, Clara," I said in a steady voice.

She flinched but obeyed, shutting her eyes.

A minute passed in the dimly lit room, the silence thick, broken only by the sound of our breathing.

"Clara…" I hesitated for a moment, then continued, "I'm sorry for everything. You've had to endure so much pain because of me."

No response. But her closed eyelids trembled slightly.

The heavy silence pressed down on me as I stared at the ceiling.

These words—these weak, useless words—were the least I could offer to make up for what she had been through.