After a long pause, Connor spoke. “Then tell me when you found me in the southern part of the forest, how did you bring me
back?”
Belinda let out a small breath, her relief almost too obvious. She smiled softly. “I remember it vividly like it was just yesterday. At
the time, I had no choice but to carry you back. I was weak, and I even stumbled once along the way back…”
“You’re lying!” Connor shouted, now fully alert and agitated. “I wasn’t in the southern part. I was on the western side.”
Connor seized Belinda’s shoulders, his claws digging deep until blood seeped through her clothes. “You’re lying, aren’t you? You
weren’t the one who saved me, were you?”
“Tell me you didn’t lie! Tell me!” Connor roared, his eyes bloodshot, desperate for an answer proving he hadn’t been wrong.
Behind them, I laughed through my tears.
So this was it. Belinda had taken credit for my actions. That was why she, a mere maid to Connor’s brother, had stood by his side without question. That was why Connor had loved her so deeply–because he thought she was the one who saved him. Because of
that, he had thrown my life away for hers.
I recalled that when I was 12, I had found Connor, beaten and bloodied, and I had saved him. I never told him my name–I wanted to protect his pride. And when he recovered, I had someone else return him home.
A bitter regret gnawed at me. Why did I act so selflessly, yet remain anonymous?
Had I known my kindness would ultimately lead to my demise, I would have ensured he knew. “Hey, Connor! It was me, Clara! I
saved you!”
