Don't Remember Me - Chapter 68

Chapter 68

Perhaps he was just as disoriented. After all, it was only now that Haven noticed her arm. He gestured toward Rosé’s arm, which was wrapped only in bandages, not in a splint. Rosé was briefly baffled before giving him a small, awkward smile and answered in a quiet voice.

“It… felt uncomfortable.”

She wasn’t referring to the splint itself, surely. It must have been the difficulty in working with it that bothered her. Haven frowned in disbelief, his brow furrowing as he spoke again.

“What are you going to do if your bone doesn’t heal properly?”

“I’m fine, Your Highness.”

Rosé smiled faintly, her face weary from exhaustion. But seeing her like that, Haven felt a sudden irritation rise within him. The words slipped out more sharply than he intended. It wasn’t something you’d expect from someone like Haven Guinters.

“‘Fine,’ you say? There’s a possibility you’re going to deal with your arm for the rest of your life.”

Rosé blinked at his words. Her green eyes seemed to flicker, her gaze uncertain for a moment. She hesitated before speaking, her voice barely a whisper.

“… For the rest of my life?”

“Yes, for the rest of your life. You’re still young, you’ve got decades ahead of you. But if the bone doesn’t heal properly and it sets at an odd angle, life is much more difficult. You’ll regret it when the time comes. It won’t help to wish you had done things differently then.”

As Haven spoke, he suddenly realized that he sounded like an old man nagging. He frowned and waved his hand, trying to dismiss the thoughts.

“Forget it. It’s your decision, after all. No point in me saying anything… Rosé?”

Before he could finish, he noticed Rosé’s expression had changed. She gazed at him oddly. Though her face was mostly covered by a handkerchief, he could somehow tell that she looked as though she might burst into tears at any moment.

He felt a sudden rush of urgency, as if he could sense the tears coming.

“Ro…”

Before he could call her name again, Rosé spoke first.

“Thank you for caring, Your Highness. But… I really am fine.”

Her voice was tight, as though she were struggling to hold back something more. The atmosphere grew awkward, and Haven felt something was off—something he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“…”

Haven frowned without realizing it, then nodded, turning his body without another word. As he left the room, Rosé watched his retreating figure. She could guess he was heading back to the main house. 

It made sense; it was unreasonable for him to stay here all night. If he had stayed near an infected patient for so long, there would have been no reason to isolate them in the first place.

He was a man who couldn’t stay by the child’s side forever. Even if he wanted to, his position as Duke wouldn’t allow it. Rosé had no intention of resenting him for leaving.

‘… For the rest of my life.’

Suddenly, Rosé recalled what Haven had said earlier, quietly repeating the words to herself.

Did he have any idea that there was a vast difference between his understanding of ‘the rest of my life’ and the limited time that remained for her?

She smiled bitterly. Every single day felt so precious. She wished she could preserve the moments she spent with him, with the child, and freeze them forever. But that wasn’t something she could do.

She gently stroked Flitta’s cheek, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

‘Your time must keep flowing, little one. You cannot stop here. Your time with your father…’

“Please…”

‘Please, wake up now.’

Was it that the child heard her quiet plea? Flitta slowly turned her head toward Rosé’s fingers, making a soft noise, and then—very slowly—her eyelids fluttered open.

* * *

Contrary to Rosé’s expectation that Haven had returned to the main house, he had actually gone outside to fetch more firewood. As soon as he reached the ground floor, he narrowed his eyes, deep in thought.

“… But where am I supposed to get firewood from?”

He was clueless.

Although he was the owner of the estate, that didn’t mean he knew where every little thing was kept. However, he soon wore a more relaxed expression and headed toward the front door.

Even if he didn’t know, his guards would. Or at the very least, they would figure it out.

“Sir Pedwin.”

Haven called out as he stepped outside, his voice low. Pedwin, who had been assigned to guard the annex, was likely nearby.

“Did you call, Your Highness?”

As expected, Pedwin quickly appeared in front of him. Haven addressed the knight, who had bowed respectfully.

“Where can I get some firewood?”

“… Pardon?”

Pedwin’s face scrunched in confusion. He thought he had misheard, so he asked again.

“Your Highness, I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

“The firewood. Do you know where I can get it?”

“… Ah.”

Pedwin couldn’t hide his bewilderment. At first, he was about to laugh in disbelief but quickly suppressed it, realizing that this was his lord’s request and he had to answer, no matter how odd the question seemed.

“The storage is behind the annex… I’ll bring it for you. How much would you like me to fetch?”

Pedwin was about to say something else, but he caught himself. It was absurd for the Duke to be fetching his own firewood. However, Haven waved it off.

“Forget it. If you’re going to bring it, I’ll take care of it myself. I’ll be the one bringing it into the annex anyway. Might as well do it from the start.”

“In that case, I’ll bring it to the annex for you, to the princess’s room…”

“No. It’s better to minimize the number of people going in and out of the annex.”

Haven shook his head, rejecting Pedwin’s offer. Pedwin hesitated, then relented, understanding there was nothing else to be done.

“Understood, Your Highness. I’ll show you the way.”

Pedwin, though uncomfortable with the situation, led Haven toward the storage area behind the annex.

“… This is it.”

Pedwin looked unsure, glancing at Haven. Haven nodded and stepped forward. As soon as he entered the storage room, the scent of wood filled the air.

“As the master of the house, I’ve never even been here once.”

“If you had, that would be strange.”

Pedwin replied as he followed Haven into the dimly lit storage. Haven smiled faintly, glancing at the pile of firewood. He turned his gaze around the storage.

It was dark, with stacks of wood so high that the small window was nearly blocked, leaving no room for sunlight.

… She must have passed through here every day.

Haven couldn’t imagine a fragile woman hauling firewood thicker than her own arm, especially with a broken one. Yet, she had managed to do it every time, never asking for help, enduring an entire week on her own. 

Was it foolishness or something admirable?

Haven let out a bitter smile, his eyes landing on a metal bin.

“… Should I just use that tin can to carry the wood?”

“Pardon? Ah, yes, that seems to be the right one.”

Pedwin, not fully aware of the servants’ duties, didn’t know for sure, but that seemed to be the most likely option. Haven took the metal bin, starting to fill it with wood. It didn’t take long for the bin to become heavy.

‘Might as well take as much as I can carry.’

That way, she wouldn’t have to come back for more so soon. As the father of an ill child, it was all he could offer the woman who was caring for him.

‘Isn’t it pathetic?’

The position of Duke seemed utterly useless in her presence. Though she addressed him as “Your Highness,” it felt less like the Duke of Guinters and more like a father concerned for his daughter.

For the child, she never hesitated to speak her mind, even to him.

「“She is, above all, simply a five-year-old child, Your Highness.”」

「“And above all, you are the father of the princess, not just a Duke.”」

He remembered her words clearly. Haven let out a quiet chuckle as he picked up the now-full metal bin and began to carry it. Pedwin awkwardly followed behind.

Just a five-year-old child.

And, above all, just the father of that child.

Haven gestured for Pedwin to stop following him and entered the annex. As he walked through the corridor, carrying the heavy bin of wood, a strange feeling overtook him.

Was it because, as a prince, he had never done such a thing? And would never have to again? It felt both foreign and awkward, yet it filled his heart more than anything else.

What must it feel like for a father to chop wood for his family on a cold day?

‘Did I ever do that, in the memories I’ve lost?’

Surely, he hadn’t left all the work to a fragile woman, had he?

For some reason, he longed for the days he couldn’t remember.