----


    195. SILAS


    SIGRID


    He had the nket draped over his shoulders. He looked at me for


    a second before lowering his head and stepping aside.


    "Good, I see you’re at least standing," I said, stepping inside to


    check that everything was in order.


    "Put on these clothes and shoes I bought for you. I think they


    should fit, but we can find moreter if needed."


    I tossed a leather bag onto the bed, filled with items from the


    market, as I sat down on the small chair beside the round table.


    T expected him to hide behind the wooden screen to change, but


    instead, he simply dropped the nket and stoodpletely


    naked in the middle of the room.


    limmediately averted my eyes.


    Clearly, undressing wasn’t something that troubled him. He had


    probably spent half his life like this.


    I could hear the rustling of fabric as he dressed. He wasn’t


    speaking, and neither was I. was getting bored.


    “What’s your name? I’m Electra de Croix," I introduced myself


    atst.


    "Thave no name... mydy," he answered, and I nced at him for


    a second, watching him struggle with the buttons of his ck


    shirt, nearly ripping them off in his clumsy attempts.


    ----


    "Wait, wait, that’s not how you do it."


    I stood up and reached out to fasten the loose shirt, making sure it


    didn’t scrape against his wounded skin.


    I took the opportunity to examine his condition—one simple


    medicinal bath wouldn’t heal him.


    "You—" I started, but when I lifted my gaze, I froze for a moment.


    ‘We were too close, and he was staring at me intensely.


    1 immediately tooka step back, and he lowered his head, staring at


    the floor.


    "Pll try to heal you little by little. Pll call you... Ss," I said, not


    wanting to dwell too much on the subject of names.


    He nodded with his head still bowed, and then I remembered the


    other thing I had bought for him.


    "Ss, wear this—it’s the best option," I said, pulling out a


    wooden mask, carved from ebony.


    It had only one hole, perfectly aligned with his good eye, while the


    other remained covered.


    "Thank you, mydy," he murmured, fastening it behind his now


    slightly cleaner tinum hair.


    The wounds on his face were the worst. I wasn’t sure if they would


    ever fully heal.


    “Alright, we’re leaving now. Let’s find you a horse—put on the


    ----


    cloak."


    "Mydy, I... don’t know how to ride a horse..."


    "Seriously?" I turned to look at him in surprise. His gaze shifted


    away, as if embarrassed.