She hadn’t been sure she’d pictured the battlefield accurately enough. And she’d braced herself for the severe mana drain she’d felt the last time she tried to heal a wound treated by another healer—but it never came.
She had felt it, unmistakably—her mana sinking into Kurt’s skin, spreading through him like the purest, cleanest water.
“That was…so incredibly pleasant,” Kurt mumbled.
“I’m sorry?” Sophie blinked.
“Your healing,” he said, voice still low. “It’s worlds apart from that third-rate hack who closed the original wound. His felt like pure agony. Yours is like…stepping into a warm bath. Being wrapped in light. Gentle, clean. Extremely pleasant.”
“…”
“So this is how you heal people, Ms. Sophie. By getting close. By stepping into their shoes. Enveloping them with your kindness.”
“It’s…all I can do.”
“And yet most can’t.”
His fingers brushed the tips of hers. Sophie flinched, instinctively pulling her hand away. His hand, left briefly hanging, returned quietly to rest on his knee.
He reached for the uniform draped over the chair and pulled it back on. With a crisp click, he fastened the clasp at the collar, then turned back to face her.
Fearing the silence, Sophie undid the ribbon at her neck and took hold of the small pouch it held.
“Here,” she said. “I should return this to you.”
From its protective pouch, meant to shield it from her skin and her skin from the irritating metal, Sophie drew out the other half of Kurt’s dog tag. It was just as spotless as the day he’d entrusted it to her.
But as she held it in her palm, she felt not the coldness of metal but the warmth it had gathered from her body.
“Welcome back, Mr. Ozhorn. I’m glad that you’re safe.”
“Have you been carrying that with you this whole time?” he asked.
“You were the one who told me to keep it. To hold on to it. To make sure it didn’t get dirty.”
“Huh. I suppose I did.”
Kurt stared at the dog tag for a moment before reattaching it with a soft click.
The sound hit Sophie with a strange mix of emotions—joy, relief, sadness.
She stood there, dazed, eyes fixed on where the two halves had finally rejoined. And that was all he needed.
In that moment, Kurt reached out again—and this time, his hand found her arm.
Her eyes widened. She felt a pull. And then suddenly, she was in his arms.
In his embrace.
Sophie began to tremble. She tried to pull away, to resist, but it was no use. She was no match for his strength.
Then it came—his voice, low and rumbling, close against her eardrums, vibrating through her chest:
“I adore you, Ms. Sophie Olzon. Won’t you be mine?”
A shiver shot up her spine. Her chest tightened with panic. Not from fear of him but from the overwhelming joy, the sheer ecstasy blooming inside her.
“Let go of me,” she whispered.
“You’re all I ever think about,” he said. “I’ll be in the middle of something, and suddenly, I’ll wonder where you are, what you’re doing, who you’re with. I’ll see a red flower by the roadside, and the first thing I’ll think is, ‘Would she like this?’”
“Please…”
“I think about whether some other man who’s come to your salon has reached you first. Whether you’re still waiting for me.”
The heat of a man; the heat of his words wrapped around Sophie like a fever.
“Please, Mr. Ozhorn, I…”
“I see you in my dreams every night. We do unspeakable things together. Why do you shake so much—when all I want is your heart?”
He held her tighter. “I won’t take it from you. I want you to give it to me. Willingly. Because if I ever force anything on you—if I ever hurt you—then that’s the one thing I’ll never forgive myself for. Not for the rest of my life.”
“You should be with someone prettier,” she said. Her voice shook. “Someone better suited to you.”
“Prettier?” he echoed, almost scoffing. “When, to me, you’re the most beautiful person in the world? Do you know this is the first time I’ve ever thought of someone that way?”
“…”
“I love you, Ms. Sophie. Do you love me?”
“I’ll… I’ll only dirty you. Besmirch your name.”
Kurt reached out a finger to wipe away her tears. She saw that as it came away, it mingled with whatever oozed off her skin, making a thick, sticky substance, the sight of which only made her cry more.
“I don’t want that,” she choked out. “I don’t want people to laugh when they see us together. I don’t want to be the reason you’re mocked. When we touch, I don’t want your skin smeared with my blood.
“And if one day… If one day you get used to people, realize what real beauty is, and you—” Her voice broke. “And you start to see me for what I really am…”
Sophie began to sob, her whole body convulsing.
“If that ever happens,” she whispered, barely holding her breath, “then I swear that’s when I’ll throw myself into the river!”
Tears streamed down her face. She arched her body away with all her might, desperate not to dirty his white uniform.
Sophie hated it.
The way people looked at her as if she were a monster.
If those eyes—those deep, dark obsidian eyes—ever looked at her that way, she knew it would break her completely.
“Please, Mr. Ozhorn,” she whispered. “Go home. Cool your head. Think about your future… About what you’re throwing away. I’m begging you.”
A beat of silence. Then, slowly, the arms around her loosened.
“Sorry, Ms. Sophie. I’ve frightened you.”
Sophie shook her head, still crying.
Kurt’s arms were warmer than anything she’d ever known. That wasn’t what had scared her.
When the door shut behind him with a soft, final thud, Sophie crumpled to the floor.
She tried to wipe the filthy tears from her face as best she could so they wouldn’t stain the carpet.