The rural dirt roads were uneven to begin with, and a heavy rain a few days prior had turned them into muddy tracks. The spooked ox bolted recklessly, jostling Ethan violently inside the cart. The veil covering his head had long since slipped off somewhere. If he hadn't clung desperately to the sides of the flatbed, he surely would have been thrown clear.
However, luck wasn't on his side for long. As the ox careened wildly down a narrow field path, it stumbled over a large rock hidden by the roadside, causing both the ox and the cart to overturn into the adjacent field. The momentum flung Ethan from the cart, and as he fell, his head struck a mud-caked stone at the edge of the field...
Then, Ethan's vision went black, and he lost consciousness...
"Ethan!!!"
"Ethan!!!"
A crowd of people scrambled towards the overturned cart in the field...
....
Three days later...
"Where is this?"
When Ethan opened his eyes again, he was surrounded by darkness. He struggled to sit up, looking around blankly.
"You're awake?"
Suddenly, a figure stood up nearby. The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place it immediately, and it was too dark to make out the man's features.
"Why is it so dark here? I don't remember my place being this dark... Have I gone blind?"
That was Ethan's first thought. After all, cities in the 21st century were brightly lit, even at night. Moreover, the apartment he'd bought was right by the road. Usually, even without lights on inside, the glow from outside was enough to see the furniture clearly. Now, seeing nothing but darkness, the only explanation seemed to be blindness.
"No, it's nighttime. I didn't light a lamp," the man explained.
Damian's family, like the Evanses, was dirt poor. They didn't have oil lamps. Usually, everyone just went to bed when it got dark; there wasn't much else to do. It hadn't seemed inconvenient before.
"Oh, it's night... no wonder it's so dark," Ethan murmured to himself. His head was still throbbing, the pain making his thoughts sluggish, his reasoning abilities reduced to almost nothing.
Until the man spoke again.
"Are you hungry? Want something to eat?"
The man's concerned voice made Ethan pause, then reality hit him. He shot up from the bed, eyeing the man warily. The sudden movement made his head spin.
"Hey, Mister, who are you? What are you doing in my house?" Ethan pressed one hand to his forehead while the other fumbled secretly behind him, searching for anything he could use as a weapon. His hand found nothing; the familiar nightstand was gone.
"I'm Damian. This is my house," the man's deep voice was tinged with fatigue and hoarseness, as if he hadn't slept in days.
"Damian? That name..." Ethan muttered. It sounded vaguely familiar somehow. He shook his head, forcefully dismissing the absurd thought of 'husband' that popped into his mind. "You said this is your house? Then how did I get here?"
He only remembered passing out after pulling three all-nighters at home, finally getting the project proposal finished and approved by the demanding client. He'd gotten up to get some water when suddenly everything went black, his body pitched forward, and then... nothing.
Had some good Samaritan found him and taken him to the hospital? No, this wasn't a hospital. Besides, he lived alone; being found would require a stroke of luck.
Could it be... a burglary gone wrong? Maybe they couldn't find anything valuable and decided to kidnap the homeowner instead?
"Mister, please let me go. I really don't have any money," Ethan, convinced he'd figured it out, dropped the bravado and started pleading.
"I know." If the Evans family had money, they wouldn't have struggled for three years to scrape together even the small bride price for his sister, Chloe. Of course, Damian's own family wasn't much better off.
"Your injury hasn't healed yet. Lie back down. I'll go to the kitchen and see if there's anything left to eat."
With that, the man felt his way to the door in the dark and went out.
"Injury?" Ethan touched his aching head. "Did I hit my head on the corner of the table when I fell?" he wondered aloud.
Ethan peered through the open doorway. Great... it must be overcast today, because it wasn't much brighter outside than inside. Seriously, what remote backwoods had this kidnapper dragged him to? Apart from the chorus of frogs and insects, there wasn't a single sound of modern traffic.
His head was swimming badly. Ethan moved cautiously to the edge of the bed and sat down.
"Whatever~ Might as well roll with it. I don't know this place, it's pitch black everywhere... even if I wanted to escape, I couldn't!!! It's all the fault of those damn capitalists!!!" If they hadn't pushed him so hard, he wouldn't have pulled those all-nighters, wouldn't have passed out, and wouldn't be in this bizarre situation!
After mentally cursing his boss and the client's entire family line, Ethan's resentment finally subsided a little.
Just as Ethan was about to lie down and rest, a flicker of firelight appeared outside the door, growing closer.
"There's only a little wild vegetable soup left in the kitchen. You'll have to make do with this for now."
The deep voice belonged to Damian, returning from the kitchen. In his left hand, he held a steaming bowl of soup, and in his right, a thick, burning pine branch, its leaping flames brightly illuminating the surroundings.
By the firelight, Ethan finally got a clear look at the kidnapper's face. He had to admit, the kidnapper was remarkably handsome. Ethan estimated Damian stood somewhere between 6'1" and 6'3", tall and straight like a pine tree. His features were strong and defined, with a high-bridged nose and intense, striking eyes under sharp brows. In Hollywood, he'd be destined for stardom.
"I mean, buddy, with looks like these, you could do anything. Why on earth did you decide to become a kidnapper?" Ethan clutched his rapidly beating heart, sighing with regret.
??? Damian, completely baffled by Ethan's words, stuck the torch into a crack in the windowsill. He dragged over an old table and placed the bowl of vegetable soup on it.
"Eat something first." The doctor had said Ethan's head injury might have affected his brain, and not to worry too much if he spoke nonsense when he woke up; they'd see how he was after a few days of rest.
"Do you need me to feed you?" Seeing Ethan make no move, Damian assumed he was weak from waking up and reached out to pick up the bowl again.
"No, no!" Ethan quickly waved his hands. "I can manage myself." He reached out and took the soup bowl.
"What the hell is this stuff?"