a simple blacksmith in greece

CHAPTER 4

Waking up, I realized I must have fallen asleep while healing my guest. My body ached slightly from the awkward position I had slept in, but at least she seemed stable. Standing up, I checked her wounds, which were now reduced to faint red marks. The Ram's healing abilities had worked better than I expected.

Satisfied, I made my way to the hearth and started a fire with a stick, preparing to make breakfast. The plan was simple: a hearty soup with bread. The warm scent of the broth soon filled the room, bringing a sense of normalcy after the chaos of the previous night.

Suddenly, a chill ran down my spine. Instinctively, I turned around and saw her—Pluie—standing there.

"Good morning," I greeted, doing my best to sound calm despite the lingering guilt.

"Good morning," she replied softly, her voice steady but her eyes cautious.

For a moment, there was only silence between us, the crackling fire the only sound in the room. I studied her face, trying to gauge her emotions. She seemed collected, but there was an edge to her demeanor as if she wasn't sure whether she was safe here.

"How are you feeling?" I asked, breaking the silence.

She hesitated, then answered, "Better. My leg and hand... they don't hurt anymore." Her hand grazed the spot where one of the wolves had bitten her, her fingers tracing the faint mark left behind. "How...?"

I didn't respond right away, unsure of how much to tell her. Instead, I turned back to the hearth, stirring the soup to buy myself time.

"You were injured pretty badly," I finally said. "I did what I could to help."

Her brow furrowed, and I could tell she wasn't fully satisfied with that vague explanation. But she didn't press me further, at least not yet.

"Thank you," she said after a moment, her voice quieter now. "You saved my life."

Hearing those words made the guilt twist in my chest again. If I hadn't waited, she wouldn't have been in that position in the first place.

"You're welcome," I said, keeping my tone even. "Sit down. Breakfast will be ready soon."

She nodded and took a seat by the fire, her eyes occasionally flicking to me as if she were still trying to piece together what had happened.

As I ladled the soup into two bowls and handed her one, I couldn't help but wonder how much longer I could keep my secrets from her—and whether she had any secrets of her own.

But for now, we focused on eating. Together, we finished the entire pot of soup within 30 minutes. It was a quiet yet oddly comforting meal, both of us too preoccupied with our thoughts to say much.

Once we were done, I gathered the dishes and took them to the wash basin. As I cleaned them, I kept running through different ways to approach the inevitable conversation. What would I tell her? How much would she ask?

When I returned to the table, she was still sitting there, her hands clasped in front of her as she waited.

I took a seat across from her, exhaling deeply. "So, you have questions," I said, breaking the silence.

"Yes," she replied, her tone steady but curious.

"Okay," I said, leaning back slightly. "Ask away, but I'll only answer if it's not too personal."

She nodded. "First... what were those things that attacked me last night?"

I met her gaze, deciding to be honest—at least about this. "Those were hellhounds, creatures from the underworld. They're called Crutas. Dangerous beasts, especially when they find a target. They tend to hunt relentlessly."

Her eyes widened slightly as she processed the information. Before she could say anything, I reached out to a nearby cabinet, opening it to reveal the spoils of my hunt. I pulled out the pelts of the wolves, the dark fur still radiating faint traces of otherworldly energy.

"These are their pelts," I said, placing them on the table. "They drop from the golden dust left behind when they're killed. A sort of... prize, if you will."

She stared at the pelts, her expression shifting from surprise to unease. "Why were they after me?"

"That's something I was hoping you'd know," I said, my tone careful. "Hellhounds don't just show up in this city. It's heavily protected. For them to appear, someone or something must have drawn them here."

Her brows furrowed, and I could see the gears turning in her mind. "I don't know," she said softly. "I've been careful. I haven't... done anything to attract attention."

I leaned forward slightly. "Careful about what?"

She hesitated, clearly debating how much to reveal. "I've had a... complicated life," she said finally. "Monsters have always seemed to follow me, no matter where I go. But I thought this city was safe."

I nodded slowly, her words confirming some of my suspicions. "It usually is. But for now, we'll have to figure out why they came after you."

Her gaze flickered to the pelts again, then back to me. "Why did you help me?"

That question caught me off guard. For a moment, I didn't know how to answer. Finally, I said, "Because no one deserves to die like that. And... I had a feeling you're more than you seem."

She didn't respond immediately, but the way her eyes narrowed told me she was analyzing my words.

"For my second question," she began after a pause, her voice tinged with curiosity, "how did you save me? I know you shot those arrows, but you were nowhere nearby. And it was dark."

Her sharp observation made me pause. I didn't want to reveal too much about my abilities, especially not yet. Instead, I leaned back slightly and gave her a vague answer. "I was born like that," I said with a shrug, hoping it would satisfy her.

She tilted her head, clearly not convinced but deciding not to push further. As the questions continued, I skillfully avoided revealing anything significant. Instead, I gave her answers that danced around the truth, offering just enough to keep her from digging deeper.

But as the interrogation wound down, I felt a knot tightening in my chest. I had been avoiding something important—something that had been gnawing at me since last night.

Taking a deep breath, I decided to face it. "Before we continue," I said, my tone more serious now, "there's something I need to say."

She looked at me, surprised by my sudden shift in demeanor.

"I want to apologize," I began, my voice steady but laced with guilt. "I need to say this before I get too prideful—or too scared—to admit it. I'm sorry. Sorry for not helping you earlier."

She blinked, caught off guard by my words.

"The reason I didn't act right away," I continued, bowing my head slightly, "is because when I first met you, you didn't feel... human. And last night, instead of helping you immediately, I thought I could use the situation to figure out what you were. I let my selfish curiosity get in the way, and because of that, you were hurt."

The weight of my confession hung in the air as I looked at her. "It's my self-given responsibility to protect this city and its people from monsters. I failed to do that for you. For that, I'm truly sorry."

I bowed my head deeply, my hands clenched into fists on the table. "I ask for your forgiveness for my inaction."

The room was silent for a moment, the crackling fire the only sound. I waited, not daring to lift my head until she spoke.

-

She spoke softly, her voice carrying a warmth that I hadn't expected.

"You're forgiven," she said. Her words were gentle, but they carried a weight that eased the guilt I'd been carrying.

"Even though you didn't have to help me," she continued, "you still did. And even though I was injured, you healed me—without leaving a single scar on my body. For that, I'm grateful."

Her gaze softened as she added, "It does sadden me that I didn't feel human to you, but... thank you for saving me last night."

I slowly raised my head to meet her eyes. She was smiling, and it wasn't forced or polite—it was genuine. That smile struck a chord deep within me.

For the first time since I had arrived in this world, I felt something I hadn't allowed myself to feel in a long time: happiness. Not the fleeting kind that comes from a small victory or a brief moment of peace, but true happiness.

It wasn't just because she had forgiven me. It was because she had chosen to see the good in what I'd done, even though I had failed her at first. She acknowledged the effort I'd made to make things right.

In that moment, I realized something important. While I had been so focused on the bad—the monsters, the dangers, and even my own shortcomings—she had shown me that even amidst all that, there were still good parts.

Even though she might have more problems ahead, and even though I might not have all the answers, I felt a renewed sense of purpose.

"Thank you," I said, my voice quiet but sincere. "Thank you for forgiving me."

And with that, I smiled back at her, letting myself feel the relief and the hope that her words had brought me.