You’re My Flame

Chapter 5

“Thank you, Chersinia.” Ben put down his spoon, having emptied the largest soup bowl she owned.

Unlike his bowl, Chersinia’s bowl was still more than half full. She hadn’t been particularly hungry, given her large breakfast that morning.

Smacking his lips, Ben still seemed unsatisfied, even though he had also finished off the baguette slices she had cut for him. Chersinia pushed her remaining four pieces of bread toward him.

“Ah, it’s okay,” Ben said, although he couldn’t take his eyes off the bread. Clearly, he hadn’t had a proper meal in a long time.

“I’m full, and we shouldn’t waste food. It would be doing me a favor.”

Chersinia was figuring Ben out, but one thing was clear: Being straightforward didn’t work with him. If she said, “I can see you’re still hungry. Eat some more,” he wouldn’t eat. But nonchalant lines like, “I don’t need it. I don’t care if you take it or not, I’m throwing it away anyway,” had a much better effect. Perhaps he had become hesitant to ask for things due to his life as a slave.

Ben glanced back and forth between the baguette slices and Chersinia, gauging her reaction. She nodded at him reassuringly.

“Then… thank you.” He cautiously reached out and took a slice.

Chersinia stood from the table, remembering that there was some soup still left in the pot. Just the bread wouldn’t be enough, so she set about refilling his bowl. She took his emptied bowl and headed to the still-steaming pot.

There was less than half of the soup left since breakfast. Well, as long as he gets enough to eat, I’ll be happy. She figured it was fine not to have leftovers, as the soup would spoil anyway. She scraped the pot nearly clean and placed the full bowl back in front of Ben.

“Oh, thank you…” His voice trembled a bit as he spoke.

As Ben stared at the steaming soup in front of him, he felt like he might cry any moment. He couldn’t remember the last time he had such a warm meal. He rarely received food, and when he did, it was nothing but stale bread. It wasn’t ever enough, and he always felt hungry.

Meals of rain or snow-soaked bread, eaten outdoors without any shelter, were routine for him. He couldn’t afford the luxury of longing for more food after eating the little he got.

Ben hastily ate spoonfuls of the soup, feeling increasingly like crying the longer he stared into the bowl. The warmth of the cozy cabin and the comforting food melted his heart, and his eyes brimmed with tears.

“Don’t eat too fast,” Chersinia said, sitting back down across from him.

The soup would have gotten a bit salty from being reheated and boiling down, but the boy quietly emptied his bowl and ate his bread without complaint. Just watching him eat made Chersinia somehow feel satisfied.

“I’m sorry. I’m eating too much,” Ben said, his head bowed. He didn’t want the woman to see the tears forming in his eyes.

“If you didn’t eat it today, it would’ve gone to waste.” She shrugged casually. It was true, and she didn’t want him to feel guilty for eating his fill. Chersinia had only just recently entered this body, and having a meal with someone felt pleasantly novel.

Only after Ben had polished off two bowls of soup and eight slices of baguette did their meal come to an end.

***

Ben had been with her for three days.

Crash!

“I-I’m sorry!”

The sound of breaking china greeted Chersinia as she walked into the kitchen. It had become a morning routine.

“I told you to just leave it.”

By now, she wasn’t even angry. She had lost so many plates already. In just three days, Ben had already managed to break four, and this morning marked the fifth.

She sighed heavily. Her cabinets were looking a lot emptier because of Ben.

“I just wanted to help,” he mumbled.

“Doing nothing is helping.”

She understood his intentions. The problem was that everything he touched ended up broken.

Chersinia picked up the dustpan and broom from under the windowsill and returned to the kitchen.

Startled, Ben rushed over. “Let me do it!”

She handed him the cleaning tools without resistance. If she didn’t let Ben clean, he would just spend all day worrying about it. He became very anxious when he had nothing to do.

Ben wasn’t one of those slaves kept by nobles to tend to their luxurious homes. He had been exploited to construct and repair nobles’ luxurious homes and leisure spaces. Naturally, slaves were not paid, and many collapsed from malnutrition.

On construction sites, he was called “hey, you,” “over there,” “this bastard,” “that bastard,” and so on, so he had never had any need for a name. Any hint of slowness and he was whipped, and once the construction ended and his labor was no longer needed, he would be sold back to the slave market.

Eating quickly was a holdover habit from those times. Whenever meals were provided, he had to grab whatever he could because he might not get another chance. Thus, he had developed the habit of stuffing himself whenever food was available.

“Ow…” A soft moan made Chersinia turn her head. She’d handed Ben the broom to sweep up the broken china, but he was now clutching a bleeding finger.

“Are you okay?” she asked. It was just sweeping and scooping. How had he managed to cut his finger? She thought it was a bit klutzy of him, but she was concerned nevertheless.

“I’m sorry…” Flustered, Ben hid his bleeding hand behind his back.

Chersinia wished she could go one day without hearing him apologize. She pressed her temples, feeling a headache coming on.

“You’re the one who’s hurt. What are you saying sorry for?” she said. Ben’s apologies had become a habit. No matter how many times she told him he didn’t need to apologize for every little thing, her words just didn’t stick.

Chersinia took the broom from Ben’s hand. If she left him to it, she was sure he’d end up bleeding from the other hand too. “Give it here. I’ll do it.”

“Please, Chersinia, let me.”

“I said I’ll do it.”

“Okay, sorry…” Ben backed off, shrinking.

Chersinia swept up the scattered pieces of the broken plate. After getting the large pieces, she carefully went over the area once more, making sure there wouldn’t be any shards left for Ben to cut himself on.

He was so eager to help that whenever he tried to do something, it invariably went wrong. While his intentions were good, the sound of crashing and breaking inevitably followed him wherever he went. Chersinia sometimes considered telling him he had the “Minus Touch.”

She dumped the collected fragments into the trash bin. As she moved about putting away the cleaning tools, Ben sheepishly followed her.

“Go sit down. I’ll apply some ointment to your cut in a moment,” she said.

“Okay…” He slouched over to a dining chair and plopped down.

Chersinia quickly grabbed the first-aid kit and sat down in front of him. “Let me see your hand.”

The boy cautiously extended the hand he had been hiding. A long cut on his index finger was oozing dark red blood.

When Chersinia grabbed his hand, Ben flinched and shivered at her touch. Since such restlessness was typical for him, she didn’t mind and dabbed disinfectant on his wound.

“Does it hurt?” It was his cut that the disinfectant was seeping into, but she was in pain from just looking at it. She grimaced as she cleaned the cut.

“No, it’s fine. I’m sorry, Chersinia…” Ben quietly watched her face as she treated his wound. The contrast of the shadow cast by her eyelashes made her skin look pale and almost translucently radiant. Her lips, slightly parted in concentration, appeared plump and tempting. Her long red hair, cascading around her, seemed soft enough to slip through his fingers.

She was undeniably beautiful. Perhaps that was why he kept making mistakes around her. He wanted to do well and show her his competent side, but he didn’t understand why he became so nervous near her.

Ugh… Ben sighed softly to himself. He wanted to be of some use to her, but disappointingly things weren’t going as well as he hoped.

“Just the ointment left now.” After disinfecting the wound, Chersinia carefully applied the healing ointment.

Ben’s eyelashes fluttered. Her touch seemed to tickle his heart. He felt a warm, fuzzy feeling as he watched her focus solely on treating him. It was the first time in his life someone cared for his wounds as if they were their own.

Overwhelmed by this new warmth, Ben had to compose himself several times throughout the day. Her hands were always warm. Her eyes, her touch—everything about her was so warm it nearly brought him to tears. She was like a ray of sunlight in his despair-filled life.

Chersinia blew gently on the wound to dry the disinfectant. Ben felt a tingling sensation as her breath brushed over his skin, making him twitch in her hold.

“What’s wrong? Does it hurt?”

“No, not at all. It’s nothing.” Ben waved his other hand dismissively as he spoke. Despite his words, he felt heat rising in his body and his blood pulsing more rapidly. Confused by these unfamiliar symptoms, he grimaced.

Chersinia, noticing his flushed cheeks, assumed the stinging was bothering him and thought nothing more of it. She finished treating the cut and neatly applied a bandage.

“Thank you. Truly.” Ben grabbed the now empty first-aid box and hurriedly took it back to the drawer. He needed a moment to cool down the flush that had overtaken him.

Something has changed… Chersinia pondered as she watched his retreating figure shuffling away.