I Just Wanted to Avoid Death - Chapter 70
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Breathing out a quiet sigh of relief, Yeshion approached the priests unloading the supplies. Since he didn’t have divine power, his role wasn’t in the purification ceremony but in helping treat the others nearby.
“Priest Yeshion! How many bandages should we take out?”
“I saw a lot of people with scrapes and cuts… Hmm… I think we’ll need quite a few.”
“Then should we just bring them all out?”
“If we need to go treat people somewhere else, take out only half. But if we’re staying stationed here, take them all out.”
At Yeshion’s words, the priests moved quickly.
In the past, they might have glanced at him warily or tried not to get noticed, but things were different now.
After spending a few months at the temple, word had spread that Yeshion was good at treating people. Of course, all he ever really did was wrap a few bandages, but the others here were so incompetent that even that much deserved recognition.
Yeshion had just settled into a spot when someone who had been watching him from afar approached.
“I—I didn’t think you’d actually come here…”
He was straightening out his rumpled priest’s robes and wiping his hands with a damp cloth when a low voice spoke again.
“P-Priest Yeshion…”
Lifting his head at the voice calling him, Yeshion saw a man standing there, fidgeting with his fingers.
Navy hair, blue eyes.
He had a calm-looking face, but it wasn’t striking, nor was it someone familiar. Though dressed in fine clothes, the way he kept glancing around nervously gave off a strange sense of mismatch.
“Were you calling me?”
When Yeshion asked, the man’s face lit up. Nodding vigorously, he scurried over and grabbed Yeshion’s hand in both of his.
Yeshion blinked at him, and the man, face flushed red, stammered,
“I—I’m sorry I left the capital without saying anything… M-My father…”
From the sound of it, the man had some prior connection to “Yeshion.” But no matter how hard Yeshion searched his memory, he had no idea who this guy was.
“Edward Harper Mishemol. The second son of House Mishemol. Four years ago, when I came to the capital and stayed briefly at the temple, Priest Yeshion took care—um. Ahem, looked after him.”
Just then, one of the priests, pretending to set something down, leaned in and whispered in Yeshion’s ear as he passed.
Left staring blankly at Edward’s face, unable to respond, it seemed Edward had realized Yeshion didn’t remember him.
‘If it was someone who just stayed briefly, isn’t it fine to pretend I don’t remember?’
With that thought, Yeshion kept his expression deliberately vague. Edward, eyes cast low, murmured softly.
“I-It’s been four years, but I haven’t changed that much… Y-You really don’t recognize me?”
Someone Yeshion had met four years ago.
There was no way he would know.
‘Yeah, let’s just pretend I don’t.’
He honestly didn’t know, and besides, the best strategy in situations like this was to claim some kind of illness. It would be worse to pretend to remember and risk getting dragged into awkward stories about the past.
In the end, Yeshion drew his trump card—his ultimate move.
“I’m sorry. I’ve been ill recently, and I’ve lost some of my past memories.”
“…Wh-What? Y-You lost your memories?”
“Yes. I just heard your name and realized you’re a son of Mishemol, but… I have no recollection of any personal connection.”
Yeshion put on the most apologetic face he could muster. Drooping the corners of his mouth just slightly, he looked every bit the picture of sincere regret.
“You don’t remember… You really don’t remember me…”
Edward stared at him, mumbling the words over and over. His expression was one of deep shock, and just as Yeshion instinctively reached out his hand, feeling a bit guilty—
“How could you… forget me?”
Edward’s head tilted to the side.
His eyes—now burning with fury and resentment—locked directly onto Yeshion.
