My consciousness returns like a radio being tuned, scattered fragments slowly coming together into coherence. I try to move my head but find it locked in place, my body a prisoner once more. Only my eyes obey me, sliding open to reveal a wooden ceiling swaying gently above. "Mirelle?" My voice comes out as a croak, dry and unfamiliar even to my own ears. There's a sudden shift, and Mirelle's face appears in my field of vision. Her eyes are red-rimmed, cheeks stained with dried tears. She's wearing a simple tunic instead of her usual armor. "Sam?" Her voice breaks on my name. Before I can respond, she wraps her arms around me, pulling me into a crushing embrace. "I thought you died," she whispers against my neck, her body trembling. "You weren't breathing right... I couldn't wake you..." The memory of what happened between us still burns, but so does the image of her body covered in wounds I inflicted. "How long was I out?" I ask, noticing the carriage isn't moving. We seem to be parked somewhere, sunlight filtering through the small windows at odd angles. "Over a day," she says, finally releasing me and breaking the curse's hold. I flex my fingers experimentally, relief washing through me as my body responds to my commands again. "I've been so scared, Sam. You just collapsed after healing me." I push myself up to sitting, my head spinning slightly with the movement. The carriage interior looks different, blankets arranged into a makeshift bed, water skins and food supplies organized neatly along one side. "Where are we?" I ask, rubbing my face with hands that feel oddly energized despite my long unconsciousness. "We're in the same spot," Mirelle says, looking away from me. Her fingers fidget with the edge of a blanket. "I couldn't move you after what happened. You suffered complete mana drain and then some. If I'd tried to transport you, you probably would have died." I blink slowly, trying to process this. "So we've just been sitting here since I collapsed?" "Yes. I spent hours just channeling as much of my mana into you as possible." She meets my eyes again, her expression unreadable. "You were barely hanging on." "Wait, what?" I sit up straighter, ignoring the dizziness that follows. "You were giving me your mana?" Mirelle nods, tucking a strand of electric blue hair behind her ear. "Your healing... You pulled from your own life force to save me, Sam. You nearly killed yourself." "Oh." The word feels inadequate for the weight of what she's telling me. She studies my face with an intensity that makes me uncomfortable. "So you really are the Saint." "What?" I ask, completely lost now. "There's only one man every millennium who can use healing magic," she explains, her voice hushed with something like reverence. "The Saint.” I process this for a moment, remembering the notification I'd seen after our first encounter. "Word." Mirelle's brow furrows. "What?" "It means like... cool, I guess," I explain lamely. "It's an expression from where I'm from." She just stares at me, her mouth slightly open, like she can't quite figure out how to respond to that. I clear my throat, feeling awkward under her gaze. "So, um, this Saint thing. What exactly does it mean?" Mirelle's gaze shifts away from me as she seems to consider her words carefully. She fidgets with the edge of her tunic, her fingers tracing invisible patterns against the fabric. "Not much," she finally says, her voice deliberately casual. "You don't have to do anything with it at all." Something about her tone doesn't sit right with me. The way her eyes won't quite meet mine, how her shoulders have tensed slightly, it's like watching Kayla when she was trying to hide something from me. "Are you sure about that?" I press, leaning forward to try and catch her eye. She sighs, her shoulders slumping as she finally looks at me directly. "It would bring you a lot of attention," she admits, her voice dropping lower. "And the fact that you're cursed would make your life very difficult." This time, the weight in her words feels genuine. There's a gravity to them that wasn't there before, a heaviness that speaks of real concern rather than evasion. "Oh," I say, processing this new information. "Alright then." I lean back against the carriage wall, trying to make sense of everything. "So I'm the only healer in the world?" "No," Mirelle shakes her head, some of her usual confidence returning. "Women mages can learn healing. Your healing, once you master it, though, will be significantly stronger." I nod slowly, taking this in. "Word." Mirelle looks at me for a moment, her brow furrowed in confusion before her face cracks into a genuine smile. She laughs, the sound bright and unexpected in the small carriage. "Word indeed," she echoes, her eyes crinkling at the corners. The tension between us eases slightly, and I find myself almost smiling back. Then it hits me like a punch to the gut, the memory of what happened under the full moon. The momentary peace between us shatters as rage floods my system. "You raped me," I say, my voice hardening as I point an accusing finger at her. "Again. After you fucking promised you wouldn't." Mirelle's smile vanishes, her face crumpling with what looks like genuine remorse. Before I can react, she lunges forward and wraps her arms around me, pulling me into a tight embrace that instantly triggers the curse. My body locks up, paralyzed once more as she holds me. "I'm so sorry, Sam," she whispers, her voice breaking. "I thought I could resist the moon. You have to believe me. I really didn't want to. I tried so hard to stay away." Her body trembles against mine, and I feel something wet against my neck. Tears. She's actually crying. "I locked myself in the carriage. I tried to... take care of it myself. But it was like something was pulling me toward you. I couldn't stop myself." Suddenly, she releases me, jumping back as if my skin burns her. Control floods back into my limbs as the curse lifts, and I immediately create distance between us, pressing my back against the carriage wall. "I'm so sorry," she repeats, wiping furiously at her eyes. "I've never felt before." My anger only grows, building in my chest like a pressure cooker about to explode. "You tried to make me fall in love with you," I spit out. "You ordered me to love you, and it almost worked." Mirelle flinches as if I've struck her. "I didn't know that would happen," she whispers. "I didn't know the curse could do that." "But you still said it," I snap. "You still tried to force me to love you when I told you I love someone else." She looks down at her hands. "I know. And I can't take it back." The carriage falls silent except for her occasional sniffles. Outside, birds chirp in the trees, oblivious to the storm raging between us. The sunlight filtering through the small windows seems almost obscene in its cheerfulness. I study her tear-streaked face, trying to find any sign of manipulation or deceit. All I see is genuine remorse, but that doesn't erase what she did. "I can't trust you," I say finally, the words hanging between us like a physical barrier. Mirelle looks up, her electric blue hair falling across her face. "Sam, there's no woman in the world you could trust on the full moon. Not a single one." Her voice is steady despite her tears. "I'm not asking you to forgive me. Just... give me one more chance to help you." I weigh my options carefully. The harsh reality is that I'm completely out of my depth here. I don't know this world, its dangers, or its cultures. I have no idea what other surprises might be waiting for me out there. For all I know, there could be something even worse than the full moon effect. "Fine," I say after a long silence. "But next time…" I lean forward, making sure she sees the resolve in my eyes, "Next time I won't stop. If you ever try to fuck with my mind again, I will kill you. I won't hesitate, and I won't feel bad about it afterward." "Alright," she says quietly. "I'm not joking, Mirelle." "I know." She meets my gaze unflinchingly. "I know you're not." She reaches for a water skin and offers it to me. I take it, careful not to let our fingers touch. The water is cool and refreshing as it slides down my throat, washing away the dryness that lingered there. As I drink, I'm already planning my next move. As soon as I'm comfortable enough with this world, as soon as I learn enough to survive on my own, I'm gone. But it's too early for that now. I need her knowledge, her protection, at least until I can stand on my own two feet. "So what now?" I ask, lowering the water skin. "We can't stay here forever." Mirelle straightens her shoulders, seemingly relieved that I haven't tried to set her on fire again. "There's a city about a day's ride from here. Smaller than Honeywood, but big enough that we won't stand out. If you can heal and I can fight we stand to make a lot of money joining the adventurers guild." "That sounds dangerous," I say, eyeing Mirelle skeptically. The idea of putting ourselves out there, drawing attention when I'm apparently some rare magical healer-man in a world where men are property, seems like asking for trouble. Mirelle waves her hand dismissively. "We won't take any dangerous jobs. Just simple contracts. Killing goblins or other vermin. Low profile stuff." "Won't I stand out? I'm a man. Someone's going to notice." She gestures toward the cloak bundled in the corner. "The cloak I gave you is perfect. No one will look twice at a mysterious healer who prefers privacy." I run my fingers along the fabric, remembering how it felt to disappear beneath it. "Alright," I concede, though my mind is already racing ahead. As soon as I build up enough coin and learn how this world works, its geography, customs, where I might be safe. I'm gone. I'll slip away in the night, find my own path. I just need to play along until then.