Enoch’s tongue slipped into her mouth, moving against hers with practiced ease.
The sensation of another person’s warm, wet tongue brushing against the roof of her mouth was utterly foreign.
“Mmph! Mmm! Mmmmph!”
Overwhelmed by the unfamiliar sensation, Sarah thrashed, trying to throw herself off the horse. It was useless. Where did he get such strength? Even with only one arm around her, Enoch remained utterly unmoved.
Instead, Sarah was the one who lost her balance in her struggle to break free. Enoch seized the opportunity the instant her strength faltered, pulling her upper body farther back. With her waist bent at an awkward angle, she was forced to rely entirely on him for support.
“Mmph!”
Having gained the advantage, Enoch pressed his tongue deeper into her mouth. His movements seemed almost lazy, but he was evidently paying close attention, exploring every corner without neglecting a single spot.
Sarah had no idea how much effort he was putting into it, but one thing was undeniable: Enoch was remarkably skilled. She had to acknowledge it, however unwillingly.
His tongue brushed against the sensitive places inside her mouth, stirring sensations she had never experienced. At times, it curled around her rigid tongue, coaxing it into movement; at others, he drew it into his own mouth and nibbled at it playfully.
Ticklish, soft, and insistent sensations mingled until she could scarcely distinguish one from another. Perhaps it was because she could barely breathe, but despite doing nothing more strenuous than sitting on a horse, Sarah found herself gasping for air.
Her heart hammered so violently that she could almost feel the blood rushing through her veins. Whenever Enoch’s tongue grazed the tender lining of her cheeks, an unfamiliar tightness gathered deep in her abdomen.
Enoch seemed capable of stealing her very soul. With his lips pressed against hers, he bore little resemblance to the hero chosen to wield the Holy Sword. Instead, he seemed like some wicked creature intent on devouring her soul.
Caught in the dizzying intimacy, Sarah could only tense, bewildered by the unfamiliar sensations rising within her.
For someone who had never even held hands with a man, much less kissed one, the experience was overwhelming.
No! This couldn't be happening!
Struggling to regain her senses, Sarah sank her teeth into Enoch’s tongue with all her strength.
She bit down so fiercely that she might have severed it before he finally pulled away.
“Ugh! Ptooey! Y-you vile bastard…!”
At last free of his mouth, Sarah spat and scrubbed furiously at her lips.
“…?”
“…”
Then she suddenly noticed something.
The wound that had been throbbing painfully whenever the cold wind struck it no longer hurt.
She cautiously touched her forehead. The pain there had vanished as well.
When she examined the hand she had used to wipe the wound, she found only a few dry, crusted scabs clinging to her fingers.
Even without a mirror, Sarah instinctively understood what had happened.
Her wound had healed.
Completely, without leaving a trace.
Thinking back over the past few moments, she realized exactly when it must have happened.
Immediately after she kissed Enoch.
How was that possible? Did he possess some kind of healing ability?
“…”
Sarah turned a bewildered gaze on Enoch, but his expression offered no explanation. He merely smiled enigmatically.
“Oops.”
With that, he withdrew the hand supporting her back.
Oh, shit!
Thrown off balance by the sudden shift, Sarah frantically grabbed the horse’s mane with the nearest hand.
Apparently amused by her predicament, Enoch gave a low chuckle.
“You should sit properly. You might fall off.”
“Whose fault do you think that is?!”
Just when Sarah thought she had finally escaped his clutches, Enoch caught her left arm, which was still gripping the horse’s mane.
“What’s this? A slave brand?”
He lifted her arm and ran his thumb along the inside of it.
Following his touch, Sarah noticed a black mark extending from the inside of her left wrist to her elbow.
It was a number, boldly inscribed against her skin.
564,932,781.
The exact number of years remaining on her sentence.
Sarah stared at it, wide-eyed. Until that moment, she had had no idea the mark existed.
“I can’t make out what it says.”
Despite having the enormous number directly before him, Enoch apparently couldn't read it.
“Let go.”
Relieved that he couldn't decipher the mark, Sarah brusquely shook off his hand.
Enoch seemed to have lost interest. He released her without a word.
Before long, the horse's frantic gallop gradually slowed.
It was only when the Black Thorns loomed directly ahead that Sarah realized where Enoch had brought her.
Why on earth would he bring me here?
As she glanced around in bewilderment, the view opened up, revealing a group of people who had been concealed behind the trees.
“The captain! It’s the captain…!”
“The captain’s here!”
At the sight of Enoch, the people gathered near the thorns waved enthusiastically. Their delight was almost desperate, as though they had discovered an oasis in the middle of a desert.
Snow was among them.
Again…
Sarah frowned when she noticed the things clinging to their shoulders.
Each bore the same black lumps she had seen on the men in the slave trader’s tent.
Only Snow and Enoch were free of them.
There was nothing around Enoch, while the same shapeless black smoke still curled around Snow’s neck.
“…”
As Sarah pondered what these strange manifestations might mean, Enoch rode straight past the welcoming crowd with an indifference so chilling that she almost felt embarrassed on their behalf.
He guided the horse toward the forest and stopped beside a tree some distance from the thorns. After leaping down, he was about to help Sarah dismount when someone called out.
“Enoch! It’s been six hours since Seiyen went into the thorns, and he still hasn’t come back. Surely that means…”
A man who appeared to be speaking for the others approached, so anxious that he failed to notice Sarah.
He couldn't finish his sentence. His neatly trimmed mustache trembled as though he were imagining the worst.
“Yes. He must have gotten lost or run into trouble.”
Having tied the horse to the tree, Enoch supplied the conclusion in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Then there's no choice. I'll have to go in and bring him back.”
“That won't do, Marcus.”
Enoch shook his head firmly, stopping the man from volunteering.
“You only came out of the thorns this morning. If you go back in now, you'll be poisoned.”
“But who else can go?! I was responsible for training Seiyen. If he acted recklessly on his own, it's because I didn't teach him properly. I should be the one to bring him back!”
Hmm. I see.
Listening to their exchange, Sarah nodded to herself.
Apparently, a guild member named Seiyen had entered the Black Thorns alone and failed to return. The others wanted to rescue him but were unable to go in themselves.
“No, that won't do. If you're going to make such a fuss, go cry in that corner over there. I'll take care of the rescue.”
Unlike the pale-faced Marcus, Enoch remained utterly indifferent.
He spoke coldly, gesturing with his chin toward the people lingering at a distance, too uneasy to approach.
“You mean… you're going in yourself, Captain?”
Marcus's face brightened with hope.
“No.”
Enoch shook his head again, his answer flat and unequivocal.
The hope vanished from Marcus's face as quickly as it had appeared.
Having thoroughly disappointed his subordinate, Enoch pointed toward Sarah, who had been quietly trying to make herself inconspicuous.
“Her.”
“…?!”
Sarah was the first to turn toward him in disbelief.
What the hell was he talking about?
Only then did Marcus seem to notice her. He stared intently, and Sarah returned his gaze with an expression that plainly asked what he was looking at.
After what had happened with the slave traders, she still wasn't sure whether revealing herself as an immune was wise. But according to Snow, immunes were exceptionally precious.
Surely these people wouldn't dare harm her.
For a moment, the two simply stared at each other.
Then—
“…!”
Marcus caught sight of Sarah's amethyst eyes gleaming in the moonlight.
He let out a shrill scream entirely at odds with his imposing appearance.
“Aaagh!”
“An immune! There's an immune here!”
His cry instantly drew the attention of the guild members standing nearby.
“…!”
“…!”
As though acting on a single command, they surged forward and surrounded Sarah.
With a collective clang of metal, weapons were drawn and pointed directly at her.
“How did an immune get here?”
“How dare you show your face here?”
The guild members glared at Sarah, hurling accusations at her. Though they had surrounded a single unarmed woman, their expressions were taut with hostility, their eyes sharp and merciless.
“…?!”
Startled by their aggression, Sarah frowned in confusion.
What was wrong with them? Hadn't Snow said being an immune was a good thing?
Bewildered by the unexpected hostility, she searched the crowd for Snow.
He was easy to spot. He was the only one who hadn't drawn a weapon.
“Hello~”
Meeting her gaze, Snow gave her a cheerful smile and waved as though nothing were amiss.
He looked perfectly friendly, but even from a distance, Sarah could see the mischievous malice glinting in his blue eyes.
And in that instant, she understood.
“Tsk. That bastard tricked me.”
She had been thoroughly deceived.
Had three hundred years in hell dulled my wits?
Berating herself, Sarah surveyed the dozens of hostile faces surrounding her.
In truth, this reception was far more familiar to her than the welcome she had received while accompanying Enoch.
Well, so be it.
Whether in the past or the present, she was apparently destined never to be welcome anywhere.
Confronted once again with that unchanging truth, Sarah let out a weary sigh.
“Haa…”
Then she turned to Enoch, who had been watching the entire confrontation without intervening.
“So, what am I supposed to do?”