Chapter 49

Just as she tried to read the titles of the books jammed into the bookshelf in detail, the hurried sound of footsteps came from the foot of her bed.

“Don’t move, stay still!”

“……”

“You’re awake. I’m glad.”

It was a gentle woman’s voice. Aethlyn forced down the tears that were welling up once more. She wanted to avoid shedding tears in front of a stranger at all costs.

“Good timing. It was about time to change your bandages.”

The unfamiliar woman drew close to Aethlyn. She was a middle-aged woman wearing glasses with her brown hair braided down. Judging by her appearance, she was unquestionably from Pharos. Aethlyn asked her cautiously:

“Where… exactly am I right now?”

“I’ll explain that by and by. Shall we just say it’s a safe place for now?”

“I…”

“Yes. Second Lieutenant Wintercrown. Nice to meet you.”

“I saw your dog tag, you see.”

The woman began her treatment along with those words. She didn’t ask Aethlyn for separate permission, nor did she give any prior notice. She simply peeled back the blanket covering her with practiced hands and unwrapped the blood-stained bandages. Once she had completely unwrapped the bandages, the woman called out toward the doorway:

“Selene! Come over here.”

At that, another woman who looked identical to her stepped inside. Except for the fact that she wasn’t wearing glasses, the two looked as much alike as twins.

‘Perhaps they really are twins.’

The two of them began wrapping Aethlyn’s bandages together. The moment the woman named Selene touched her thigh, a sharp, stabbing agony flared up, causing Aethlyn to let out a cry.

“It hurts…”

The woman with glasses glared at Selene with hawk-like eyes.

“Selene, didn’t I tell you to be careful?”

At that, Selene retorted in the Pharosian language. Even without knowing the meaning, it was definitely a complaint.

Bickering back and forth as they finished the treatment, the two inspected every nook and cranny of Aethlyn’s body, and only after finally taking her body temperature and pulse did they pull their hands away.

Selene cast a glare back and forth between Aethlyn and the bespectacled woman, then muttered in Estaian:

“I’m off to look after other patients. You handle this one, big sister.”

“Got it.”

With that, the woman with glasses smiled and spoke to Aethlyn once again.

“Oh, my mind. I completely forgot to introduce myself. My name is Hecatia.”

A quintessential Pharosian name. Aethlyn responded blankly.

“…Yes.”

“Lieutenant, you opened your eyes four days after losing consciousness. Honestly, I was quite worried about what would happen if today passed without change, so I’m truly relieved.”

“Four whole days… have passed?”

It felt like barely ten minutes had passed since she defeated the Red Knight, yet she had been unconscious for that long. Goosebumps broke out across her skin.

Hecatia smiled warmly at the anxious Aethlyn as if to reassure her.

“A soldier is a soldier, after all. Should I say your tone is terribly stiff?”

“I’m… sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. Anyway, about the gentleman who came with you, Lieutenant.”

‘Sergeant Vilev?’

The moment she heard Hecatia’s words, Aethlyn couldn’t breathe for a second. She muttered in a trembling voice:

“Sergeant Vilev…?”

Come to think of it, the only person who could have brought her dying self to a safe place was Sergeant Vilev. Hadn’t he been approaching her right before she defeated the Red Knight and closed her eyes? Hecatia answered gently to the tearful Aethlyn.

“Yes, Sergeant Vilev. He was wearing an Imperial combat uniform, but he belonged to the Estaian army’s werewolf detachment.”

“……”

Gulp. Aethlyn swallowed hard without realizing it.

‘She knows Sergeant Vilev is a werewolf.’

A sense of tension struck her for an instant. She recalled when she had gone on leave to Parieri, the capital of Pharos, with Sergeant Vilev. The reactions of the local Pharosians back then could by no means be called welcoming. Even right when they set off from the trench…

“No. There was nothing said about taking a werewolf along!”

“What’s the problem with that?”

“It brings bad luck, I’m telling you! In Pharos, they say disaster follows if you get close to a race that smells of blood.”

That wasn’t all. The gazes that feared Gennadi even within the streets of Parieri, whether openly or covertly. Remembering that made her stomach churn uncomfortably.

Presumably, this place was also some village in Pharos. If so, there was room for Gennadi’s identity as a werewolf to be received negatively. Perhaps reading that worry in her expression, Hecatia opened her mouth.

“It’s alright. This isn’t really a place that ostracizes people just for being Wildmen.”

“Is that so…”

She felt a bit awkward realizing her thoughts had been read, but it was a relief.

Aethlyn moved on to matters that needed more urgent verification.

“Sergeant Vilev, what is his current condition? Is he alright? He must have lost a lot of blood.”

“Just a moment. I’ll answer in order.”

“……”

“First of all, Sergeant Vilev has been unconscious since two days ago.”

“Good grief.”

Aethlyn swept her cheek with her left hand. This time, tears of despair, rather than tears of relief, threatened to flow.

“You don’t need to worry too much. His wounds are healing well without infection, and there are no fractures. A werewolf’s resilience is truly amazing, you know. Thanks to you, Lieutenant.”

‘Thanks to me?’

Though she didn’t entirely understand Hecatia’s final remark, it didn’t really matter. Just the fact that the sergeant wasn’t in critical condition was a comfort to her heart.

However, that sense of relief did not last long. Because Hecatia immediately added a caveat.

“However, there is another problem right now. Though I expect you are well aware…”

“Another problem?”

Aethlyn’s heart sank down into her stomach once more. Could that Red Knight bastard possibly have cast some sort of curse on him? But the words that came out of Hecatia’s mouth were vastly different from what Aethlyn had anticipated.

“The rutting season is about to arrive for him, you see.”

“A rutting season…?”

It was truly a story she was hearing for the first time. At Aethlyn’s question, Hecatia, in turn, expressed puzzlement.

“Didn’t you know?”

“I don’t know. What is that…?”

“……”

At that, Hecatia’s eyes began inspecting Aethlyn from top to bottom. It was a gaze of utter bewilderment, as if asking, ‘How on earth could someone not know something like that?’ After staring silently at Aethlyn like that for a long while, she forced herself to begin explaining calmly.

“Werewolves have what we call a rutting season. It’s not entirely the same as animals’ heat cycles, but it’s a similar concept—a period when physiological desires completely dominate both mind and body.”

“If you mean physiological desires…”

“Yes. The urge to reproduce, sexual desire. If those desires are not properly satisfied during that period, they suffer from agony that feels as though their entire body is being torn apart. At worst, even their lives are put in danger. There are suppressants to prevent that, but they come with a hefty share of side effects, too.”

Meanwhile, while listening to the explanation, Aethlyn’s face gradually grew expressionless. She couldn’t comprehend how she was supposed to accept the explanation she was hearing right now. Hecatia continued with her explanation.

“Unfortunately, however, that gentleman has suppressed his rutting season with suppressants for far too long.”

“……”

“He couldn’t help it if he wanted to work as a soldier, I suppose. But still, what I don’t understand is…”

Hecatia wore a faraway look in her eyes for a moment, then shifted her gaze back toward Aethlyn.

“To speak frankly, the sergeant’s current condition has long since passed the boundaries of abuse. Even if he hadn’t suffered injuries like this, a major crisis would have struck him before long.”

“Then, what will happen… to the sergeant?”

“I won’t lie to you. If you leave him like this, the sergeant’s life is in danger. Pressing it down with suppressants is at its limit now, too. The rutting fever is going to completely shred the inside of the sergeant’s body to pieces.”

Though the concept of a rutting season was unfamiliar to her, the realization that the sergeant could die because of it left her vision completely dark.

Aethlyn asked in a pleading tone.

“Then, what on earth can be done to calm the rutting fever…?”

Surely there must be a way? Surely they have a method to help? Just as you saved me, the sergeant as well…

Countless desperate and urgent words boiled up like bubbles within Aethlyn’s chest before vanishing.

Aethlyn looked at Hecatia, and Hecatia looked at Aethlyn. A strange silence lingered for a moment. Hecatia, who had been acting as though she would give an answer right away, suddenly began chewing on her lower lip, revealing an anxious expression. It was an ominous sign, but Aethlyn quietly waited for an answer.

“Hah.”

Hecatia finally let out a long, drawn-out sigh. She instantly slipped off the silver-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of her nose and asked Aethlyn:

“…Do you really not know how to calm the rutting season? Or are you just pretending not to know?”

“What do you mean?”

Aethlyn was simply bewildered. Why was the person who had been explaining things so kindly moments ago suddenly changing her tune and beginning to cross-examine her? She couldn’t figure out for the life of what she had just done wrong.