CHAPTER 22: CH 22: SECOND RESCUE - PART 4

The girl remained bound for several days.

At first, she fought like a feral animal, glaring at them with narrowed eyes and thrashing in the ropes whenever Berry tried to come close.

Her body was frail, weakened by the frostbite she had endured, but the instinct to survive kept her movements wild and unpredictable.

Lucian didn’t pay her much attention beyond ensuring she wasn’t in danger of hurting herself.

He had already seen such desperation before—when people were reduced to animals by hunger, fear, or cold.

Berry, on the other hand, couldn’t help but feel pity. He brought her small bowls of stew and roasted roots, setting them just within her reach.

The first time, she refused. She looked at the food suspiciously, like it was poison.

Lucian said nothing, only turning his attention back to the half-finished furnace.

But when her stomach growled audibly, her hand crept forward, and she began to eat with a guarded expression.

That was the beginning of the thaw.

Day by day, her resistance weakened. The wild light in her eyes dimmed, and she no longer tried to kick Berry when he approached.

She ate the food given to her, though she did so quietly, keeping her gaze darting between Lucian and Berry as if waiting for betrayal.

By the fifth day, her shoulders no longer trembled with tension.

Her lips were still dry and cracked, but her throat had healed enough that faint whispers slipped out when she tried to respond to Berry’s gentle words.

Seeing this, Lucian finally gave the order.

"Untie her."

Berry blinked.

"Are you sure? She might—"

"She won’t. If she intended to attack us, she would have tried even with the ropes on. Her instinct to survive is stronger than her instinct to fight."

Lucian cut in, his voice calm and certain. His eyes, sharp and calculating, lingered on the girl.

Reluctantly, Berry obeyed. He loosened the knots and pulled away the rope. The girl didn’t spring forward or lash out.

Instead, she rubbed at her raw wrists and sat there quietly, looking between the two men with unreadable eyes.

"What’s your name?"

Berry asked gently, crouching in front of her.

She opened her mouth, coughed, then whispered.

"...Mira."

Berry’s face softened.

"Mira, do you know where you are?"

She shook her head weakly.

"Do you remember what happened to your home?"

Her lips trembled. For a moment, she seemed ready to say nothing, but then the words slipped out in a hoarse whisper.

"Home... is gone."

Berry’s chest tightened. He turned toward Lucian, eyes shining with emotion.

"Lucian... can we keep her here? She has nowhere to go. She’ll die if she’s alone again."

Lucian, who had been silent, finally spoke.

"If you’re asking me, then you’ll be the one responsible for her."

Without hesitation, Berry nodded.

"I’ll take responsibility."

Lucian gave no further answer, but his gaze shifted toward Mira.

Even now, after confessing her loss, her eyes weren’t on Berry. They were fixed on him—sharp, curious, and almost searching.

When he moved past her, her head turned to follow, as though she couldn’t help but measure him with her gaze.

Berry noticed. He chuckled awkwardly, scratching his head.

"Mira, don’t be fooled by how Lucian looks. He might seem like a kid, but that’s only because of a curse. In truth, he’s much older and... well, he’s the one in charge of this whole place."

Lucian shot him a faint glare but said nothing.

Mira blinked slowly. Her throat still ached, but she managed a whisper.

"...Curse?"

"Yes. It’s not my place to explain, but just know this—without him, you wouldn’t be alive right now. Everything here... the farm, the warmth, the safety—it’s all because of him."

Berry said, nodding firmly.

Mira looked at Lucian again. He didn’t meet her eyes. He was already tending to the furnace, adjusting the parts they had risked their lives to bring back.

His figure seemed small against the glow of the flames, but his every movement carried precision, calmness, and authority.

Her fingers curled into her lap. Something inside her, some instinct, told her that this boy was not ordinary.

Berry smiled faintly.

"If you want to stay here, Mira, you’ll need to pull your weight. Everyone works if they want to survive. That means the farm, the house, and whatever else Lucian decides."

Mira hesitated for a moment before giving a small nod.

"...I’ll work."

"Good."

Berry said, relief flooding his face.

But Mira’s eyes never left Lucian.

Even as Berry explained how things were run in the clearing, even as he showed her where the water was drawn and how the food was cooked, her gaze always drifted back.

Perhaps it was gratitude. Perhaps it was suspicion.

Or perhaps it was simply the instinct to follow strength—the same instinct that had guided her since her home was destroyed.

Lucian noticed her gaze but chose not to comment. He had no interest in being worshipped or doubted.

All he cared about was survival, progress, and the task the system had bound him to. Still... he didn’t stop her from staring.

For now, if she listened and worked, that was enough.

Berry, sensing the unspoken bond forming between the girl and the boy who led them, whispered quietly to Mira.

"He might not show it, but you can trust him. He saved us both."

Mira’s lips parted slightly. Trust? That word felt foreign on her tongue.

Yet, as the warmth of the valley wrapped around her, and as she saw Lucian’s steady figure framed against the furnace’s glow, she made her choice.

For survival, and perhaps for something more, Mira would follow him.

The next morning, Mira tried to help on the farm for the first time. Her hands were clumsy with the tools, and she often paused to catch her breath, but she didn’t complain.

Berry encouraged her warmly, guiding her steps, while Lucian simply observed in silence.

When she stumbled with a basket of soil, Lucian wordlessly steadied it before returning to his work.

Mira froze, then lowered her head with a faint whisper.

"...Thank you."

Lucian didn’t reply, but her lips curved faintly. For the first time since her home’s destruction, Mira felt she might have found a place to belong.