Will You Cry for Me If I Die? - Chapter 61

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 61

Breath is also a trace.

I tried to reduce my breathing, but a four-year-old’s lungs don’t obey.

My chest moved even more.

Even when I cut it short, it grew large again.

My chest hurt.

The inside stung.

Even though it hurt, my legs kept moving.

They didn’t stop.

Because my legs were short, I had to move faster.

I had to lift my feet more often.

Moving faster made it hurt more.

I hate pain.

But I hate stopping even more.

If I stop, I’ll be caught.

Demian didn’t grab my wrist, but grabbed the back of my coat instead.

My clothes were pulled.

My body was dragged.

It felt less like being caught.

My flesh wasn’t being grabbed.

I liked that.

It was easier to move.

Yurahel ran beside me, staying close.

He matched his speed to my steps.

His wrist was covered with snow, but silver occasionally gleamed through.

When snow scattered, it sparkled.

Small flashes of light scattered.

Sparkling means getting caught.

I hated the sparkling, so I kept scooping up snow to cover it.

I moved my hands even while running.

I grabbed snow and pressed it down.

My hands grew cold.

Sensation gradually faded.

When it’s cold, sensation becomes dull.

When it becomes dull, you drop things.

Strength leaves your hands.

I didn’t want to drop my hands, so I clenched my fingers.

My nails pressed into my flesh.

Lermiel followed from behind, swallowing his breath.

The child’s face was pale white.

It looked whiter than the snow.

It was dim as if the light had drained from it.

When I turned my head pretending not to notice, a sound came from behind.

Why is the sound of stepping on snow so loud?

Thud, thud.

It continued steadily.

As I listened to it, I realized there were other footsteps besides Lermiel’s.

There’s one more.

Steady footsteps like tapping on wood.

The rhythm was constant.

It didn’t break.

‘It’s the priest!’

My heart sank with a thud.

My chest collapsed once, greatly.

When my heart sinks, my stomach feels empty.

I felt hollow inside.

When your stomach is empty, tears rise up.

My throat tightened from within.

I pressed down hard on the tears.

I closed my mouth and cut off my breath sharply.

“He’s chasing us.”

I said.

My breath came out in short bursts.

Demian answered briefly.

“I know.”

His voice didn’t waver.

It fell evenly.

When it doesn’t waver, you can trust it.

I tried to lean on that trust a little, then gritted my teeth again.

My jaw became firm.

If you lean, you become weak.

Your body loosens.

If you become weak, you get abandoned.

I hate being abandoned.

So I don’t lean on others.

I endure on my own.

Demian raised his hand and pointed forward.

His fingertip moved quickly.

A small cabin was visible in the forest.

Black roof.

White snow.

Smoke above it.

The smoke rose slowly.

Smoke means there’s fire.

Fire is warm.

When it’s warm, your breathing relaxes.

Your chest settles down.

If you relax, you get caught.

Your breathing becomes longer.

But right now, freezing to death is also a problem.

A four-year-old dies immediately when frozen.

They stop quickly.

I don’t want to freeze to death.

So I ran toward the cabin.

My feet became faster.

My breathing became rougher.

The cabin door was closed.

The wooden door was firmly shut.

Demian didn’t knock on the door.

He made no sound.

He pressed his fingertips against the wall next to the door.

His hand moved along the wood.

Frost spread thinly.

White lines spread across the wall.

The wood creaked and moved.

It cracked finely from the inside.

A secret door.

I opened my eyes wide.

My breath stopped for a moment.

There were secret doors at the Research Institute too.

Hidden paths.

The Research Institute’s secret door dragged me along.

When it opened, I had to go in.

This secret door hides us.

If we go in, we disappear.

I felt that difference.

My body knew first.

The door opened.

A gap appeared.

Warm air rushed out from inside.

It mixed with the outside air.

The warm air wrapped around my face.

My cold skin relaxed.

I let out a big breath for a moment.

What I had been holding in was released.

At that moment, my breath spread white.

Steam spread in front of my mouth.

My breath was visible from inside.

It was clearer as it touched the light.

I immediately covered my mouth with my hand.

I pressed my palm against my mouth.

It was too late.

It had already come out.

Demian lifted me up and carried me inside.

My body was lifted lightly.

The air shook once more.

Yurahel and Lermiel followed inside.

Their feet moved urgently.

The door closed.

The gap disappeared.

The sound of wind from outside was cut off.

The sound suddenly decreased.

Inside was dark, but not completely dark.

Light remained faintly.

The fireplace fire remained small.

Red embers flickered like breath.

The firelight flickered and illuminated the room.

Shadows moved on the walls.

“Here.”

Demian said quietly.

“We stop.”

We stop.

Those words made my body heavy.

Suddenly my strength drained.

When I stop, pain comes.

What I was blocking rushes in.

It really came.

It all hit at once.

My legs trembled.

My strength left me.

I collapsed to the floor.

My knees touched first.

My knees hurt.

The hard floor made contact.

My palms hurt.

The hands that had been digging snow stung more.

My breath trembled.

It shook small inside my chest.

Each time I breathed out, it trembled as if it would break.

That trembling tried to turn into crying.

The inside of my throat narrowed.

My eyes grew hot.

I bit my lips.

My teeth pressed into the flesh.

If I bite, blood might come out.

Blood is a scent.

The scent of immortality might become stronger.

I released what I was biting.

I separated my lips.

Instead I clenched my hands.

My fingers dug inward.

My nails pressed into the flesh.

Yurahel crouched down in front of me.

Our eye levels matched.

His breath reached close to my face.

He tried to look at my face.

I turned my head away.

I turned to the side as if avoiding light.

If he sees, I think I’ll cry.

If I cry, I become weak.

If I become weak, I get abandoned.

I hate being abandoned.

“Rumel.”

Yurahel called me.

His voice was low and careful.

I didn’t answer.

I kept my mouth closed.

Yurahel spoke even lower.

Our breaths mixed.

“Your hands.”

He tried to look at my hands.

His hands slowly rose.

I hid my hands.

I concealed them behind my body.

If he sees my hands, he’ll notice I’m trembling.

If he notices, he’ll comfort me.

Comfort is sweet.

When it’s sweet, it hurts more.

I hate sweet things.

Lermiel was leaning against the wall, then slowly sat down on the floor.

His back slid down along the wall.

Rough breathing leaked out.

His chest rose and fell heavily.

He wrapped his arms around himself.

His hands trembled.

That sight scratched at my insides.

The inside was roughly scratched.

It should have been me first.

I should have blocked it.

A four-year-old’s heart immediately blames itself like this.

It gets stabbed faster than thought.

When I blame myself, tears come out.

I hate tears.

So I looked for something to do.

I crawled toward the fireplace.

I pressed my hands and knees against the floor.

The wooden floor felt rough against me.

A small fire remained.

Red embers flickered like breathing.

Fire is dangerous.

It hurts when you get burned.

Flesh gets damaged immediately.

But fire also saves.

It melts cold things.

I saw the kettle placed next to the fire.

The metal sparkled as it caught the firelight.

Steam rose thinly from the kettle’s spout.

The kettle might be hot.

If it’s hot, my hands will get burned.

My hands already hurt.

I don’t want them to hurt more.

But there’s something I need.

Water.

Warm water.

Warm water saves hands.

It loosens what has hardened.

And it melts snow.

If the snow melts, will the mark beat less?

I don’t know, but I wanted to try.

Demian saw my movement and spoke.

He stopped me briefly.

“Stay still.”

I shook my head.

Slowly, but firmly.

“I can’t stay still.”

My words were cut off.

Demian paused for a moment.

His eyes followed me.

He came toward me and touched the kettle.

His hand didn’t touch it directly.

He covered his fingertips with a thin layer of frost to block the heat.

A thin white layer wrapped around his fingers.

Then he lifted the kettle and poured water into a small cup.

The stream of water fell thinly.

It made a gentle sound as it touched the cup.

Steam rose up.

White steam slowly spread.

Steam is a scent.

But this steam is a warm scent.

It gently brushed the tip of my nose.

I liked that scent.

When I like something, it’s dangerous again.

My heart softens.

I carefully received the cup.

The cup was heavy because my hands were small.

The heat touched my palms.

It wasn’t hot.

It was warm.

I supported the cup with both hands.

My hands wrapped around the cup.

I approached Yurahel.

I went close with short steps.

“Give me your hand.”

I said.

Short and firm.

Yurahel looked at me with surprised eyes.

His eyes shook greatly.

He extended his hand.

Slowly, carefully.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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