Chapter 372: My Saviour

He heard a few muffled sounds beside him — low groans, weak breaths, and the faint rustle of movement. The unconscious man was sweating but also shivering, which was a very confusing combination."Are you hot or cold? Pick one!" he muttered, frowning. He glanced at the dying fire, then at the shivering man, and sighed dramatically. "Fine. I'm not doing this because I want to. It's for survival. Warmth. Science."

He scooted closer and wrapped his arms around the man again. "Just so we're clear," he mumbled, nestling in, "I'm the big spoon. It's a dominance thing."

He expected the man to smell like death and regret, but to his surprise, he actually smelled… Nice? Woodsy. Clean. Comforting.

And somehow, between his exhaustion, the warmth, and the faint rhythm of another heartbeat, he drifted off to sleep.

When he woke up, he immediately knew something was wrong.

First, it was quiet. Too quiet. No weird groaning, no snoring, no heavy breathing — just birds chirping innocently like nothing bad ever happens in the woods.

Second, the spot beside him was empty.

"...Huh?" He blinked, sat up, and rubbed his eyes. "Wait. Where's Mr. Stabby?"

He looked around in confusion. The bed of leaves was flattened where the man had been. His shirt, or what remained of it, still had the tear he'd made for the head bandage. So… No, it wasn't a dream. He really had patched up a handsome stranger in the middle of nowhere.

And now that handsome stranger had left him.

"Unbelievable," he grumbled, shoving a hand through his messy hair. "I save a man's life, and he just vanishes? Where is my thank you?"

Then something hit his nose.

"Wait. Is that… Food?"

He turned to find a perfectly cooked, skewered fish resting near the fire, which was now not only alive but thriving. Next to it was a neat pile of freshly cut firewood, stacked like it came straight out of a wilderness manual.

He blinked.

Without hesitation, he grabbed the fish and devoured it like a starving animal. "Oh my god," he moaned mid-bite, "this is the best thing I've ever eaten."

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, staring at the empty stick. "So… Maybe he cooked me breakfast as a thank-you and left? That's fair. I can live with that. He's free. I'm free. I'll just… Starve alone in the woods eventually." He sighed dramatically.

Just then, he heard footsteps, steady, heavy ones. His ears perked up like a startled rabbit's.

The bushes rustled, and there he was! Mr. Stabby himself, walking straight toward him… With an axe.

"OH, COME ON!" he yelped, leaping to his feet. "Is this how you repay kindness now?!"

He fumbled for the knife he'd hidden earlier, holding it out with shaking hands. "Don't come any closer! I'll use it!"

The man stopped, staring at him blankly, golden eyes glinting like molten metal. "With your skills," he said flatly, "you can't even touch me."

The blade in his hands wobbled. "Wha— excuse me?!"

The man tilted his head slightly, voice calm but edged. "Besides, if I wanted you gone, you would be gone."

He froze. His mouth dropped open. "...Well, that was unnecessarily rude. You could've just said 'thank you.'"

The man blinked slowly, unimpressed.

He crossed his arms, knife still in hand. "You know, I liked you better when you were unconscious."

The man's eyes were sharp, like knives that could slice through any lie. He gripped the axe loosely in one hand, though there was no mistaking the tension in his shoulders.

"Why did you save me?" The clearly awake, no longer unconscious man asked, voice low and rough, as if the words themselves scraped his throat.

He blinked at the question. "Huh?"

"Why?" The man's eyes narrowed. "You could've left me to die. Most people would have."

He tilted his head, thinking for a second, then shrugged. "I dunno. I was alone and scared."

The man raised an eyebrow, waiting for something more.

"Oh, and also—" he continued with complete seriousness, "you were good looking."

There was a moment of silence. The kind that was so heavy you could hear the birds judging from the trees.

"That is why you saved me?" the man asked slowly, as if confirming he had indeed heard right.

"Yep," he said brightly, completely unbothered. "Seemed like a good enough reason at the time. I thought you'd make good company."

The man's eye twitched. "You risked your life because you found me attractive?"

"Eh, I mean, if you put it like that, I sound shallow."

The man just stared at him for a long moment — and for the first time, something faintly resembling amusement flickered in those cold eyes. It was gone in a second, but it had been there.

He finally sighed and sheathed the axe. "What's your name?"

He froze. "My… Name?"

"Yes."

He hesitated, eyes darting around as if the trees might whisper the answer. "I don't know."

The man frowned. "You don't know?"

"I don't remember anything," he admitted, his voice softening. "Not where I came from, not what I was doing here… Nothing." He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing down. "I woke up, saw the fire, saw you, and that's it."

The man stepped closer, slow and deliberate, like a predator testing his prey. His golden eyes scanned his face, searching for deceit.

"You really don't remember anything?"

He shook his head, this time more firmly. "I swear I don't. There's nothing on me, no marks, no bag, not even a note. I don't even know if I have family, or friends, or…" His words trailed off. He hadn't realised how sad that sounded until now. "I—I don't know."

For the first time, he felt something heavy twist in his chest. Sadness. Loneliness. Fear. All tangled up into one feeling he couldn't quite name.

The man studied him for a long moment before finally speaking, his tone softer than before. "…I am Caius."

He looked up. "Caius," he repeated quietly, like testing the word.

He smiled faintly. "Alright, Caius. I'll remember that."

Caius tilted his head. "And you?"

He blinked. "Me?"

"Yes. You need a name, don't you?"

"Oh. Right." He thought for a moment, then shrugged again. "I can respond to 'hey you' if you'd like."

Caius gave him a look that could only be described as unimpressed.

"Fine," he said, holding up his hands. "You pick one, then."

Caius was quiet for a few seconds before saying, "Arian."

His ears perked up. "Arian?"

Caius nodded. "It suits you."

"Arian…" He tested the name on his tongue, and for some reason, it felt right familiar, even. Like it fit in a space that had been waiting for it all along. "I like it."

Caius turned toward the forest, clearly intending to move on, but Arian just sat there, repeating it under his breath with a small, hopeful smile.

He had a name now. A temporary one, maybe, but it was his.

Somewhere deep down, he felt it. Someone would come for him. Someone who knew who he was. He didn't know how or when, but the thought gave him enough warmth to face the uncertainty.

"Aren't you going to follow me?" Caius asked.

Arian smiled, "You'll help me out of this place?"

"Of course, I owe you one."