Dama sprang into action, rushing to Giona’s side, with Mumu and Nini close behind. Dropping to his knees by the bed, Dama reached for the blanket that Giona clung to with a desperate grip, the fabric trembling from the force of her shivering.

  He tried gently to lift it, but her grip only tightened, as if the blanket were her last barrier against an unseen threat.

  “Giona,” Dama pleaded, his voice soft but urgent, “it’s me, Dama. What’s wrong? Please, come out from under the blanket. You’re safe here, I promise.”

  Mumu, sensing the gravity of the situation, crouched by the bedside. He placed a large, soft hand on the trembling lump beneath the covers, patting it gently as if to calm her through sheer tenderness.

  Nini joined in, crawling up beside Giona and nudging her quivering body with her nose. She pawed softly at the blanket, her whines low and full of concern.

  Despite their efforts, Giona’s muffled whimpers and frantic apologies continued. “No…no...please, don’t hurt me… Please…” she repeated, her voice breaking with every word.

  Dama turned his head to glance at Mumu and Nini, who met his eyes with shared worry. Though they couldn’t speak, their empathy was palpable, resonating in their actions and expressions. Dama took a deep breath, steadying himself, then rested his hand on the blanket where he imagined Giona’s back to be.

  “Giona," he said again, his voice even gentler this time, “it’s okay. You’re safe here. I promise you—nothing will hurt you. Not while I’m here. I never break my promises, remember?”

  The room fell silent except for Giona’s shaky breaths. Slowly, the trembling under the blanket lessened.

  “Pwomise…” came a small, uncertain voice from beneath the covers.

  Dama’s heart clenched at the sound. “Yes,” he answered firmly, but kindly, “I promise, Giona. You’re safe. I’ll keep you safe. I’ll always keep my promises to you.”

  There was a pause, and then the faint sound of a sniffle. Giona’s hands loosened their hold on the blanket. Though her breaths were still uneven, the sharp edge of her panic had softened, her trust in Dama gradually breaking through the shadows of her fear.

  A few moments passed in stillness, the tension in the air slowly dissipating. Dama watched as Giona’s body began to shift beneath the covers. He noticed her small, trembling fingers slip out from under the blanket’s edge, where they hesitated, still shaking.

  “Take your time.” Dama whispered, his voice soft and steady, not wanting to rush her.

  But before he could prepare himself, Giona suddenly burst out from beneath the blanket and launched herself into his chest, knocking the air out of him.

  “OOF—?!” Dama gasped, the force of her hug pinning his arm to his side. He staggered slightly, caught completely off guard.

  Clinging tightly to him, Giona’s wide, frightened eyes darted around the room as if searching for the shadows she had seen, for the man she feared had found her.

  But all she saw were familiar faces. Mumu crouched at her side, his stitched expression forming a reassuring smile, while Nini leaned close, her tail wagging.

  The terrifying visions from earlier—the shadows, the marionette—were nowhere to be seen. Slowly, Giona’s breathing began to steady, her mind returning to the safety of the present. Dama’s words from before echoed in her ears: “You’re safe. I promise.”

  Realizing this, she looked up at Dama, only to see him coughing and gasping for air after their collision. Her fear gave way to embarrassment, and she quickly scooted back to give him space. “I-I’m sorry!” She said, her voice small and full of guilt, as her fingers twirled nervously in her lap.

  Dama waved a hand at her before patting his chest, trying to regain his breath. “It’s okay, really...” he managed between coughs, his tone light and forgiving.

  The sight of him trying to recover was oddly amusing, and Giona felt a laugh bubble up. She quickly covered her mouth, trying to suppress it. But her muffled giggles escaped anyway, and she peeked at Dama nervously, unsure if he would be upset.

  Instead, Dama cracked a small grin. “Go ahead,” he said with a teasing tone, “laugh it up. I’m sure this is hilarious.”

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Giona blinked, surprised, then let out a genuine laugh—soft at first, but it grew brighter. As her laughter filled the room, she realized something profound: for the first time, her body hadn’t instinctively braced for punishment when she felt she’d done something wrong. She hadn’t flinched or curled inward in fear. Instead, she felt safe—truly safe.

  It was a warm and unfamiliar emotion, one she didn’t quite have a name for. It wasn’t just safety; it was something deeper—a fragile but growing sense of trust.

  Trust in Dama. Trust that he wouldn’t hurt her. Trust that she could make mistakes, laugh, and even lean on him without fear.

  As this realization sank in, Giona’s laughter softened, and she looked up at Dama with wide, glistening eyes. For the first time in a long while, she felt something she had never truly known before—hope.

  As Giona stared at Dama with her big blue eyes, he couldn’t help but note how her face was the happiest he had ever seen it. A sense of warmth filled him, a feeling he hadn’t quite experienced before.

  His thoughts wandered, and he found himself thinking how cute Giona looked in that moment. The realization startled him, and he quickly caught himself, brushing the thought aside. It felt strange—he had never felt that way before, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it.

  Shaking off the odd sensation, Dama focused on the situation at hand. He remembered how they ended up here, her earlier panic attack fresh in his mind. With a steadying breath, he asked, “Giona, what happened back there? What triggered you?”

  Giona tilted her head, her lips forming a small pout as she repeated the unfamiliar word, “Triggered?” Her voice was high-pitched and filled with curiosity, ending in a questioning hum.

  Realizing she didn’t understand, Dama hesitated. He needed to rephrase the question, but how? His mind raced for a way to convey what he meant without overwhelming her again. An idea came to him, but he wasn’t sure it was the right one. What if it set her off again? Still, he reasoned, not addressing it could mean the same thing might happen later.

  Swallowing his nervousness, Dama asked gently, “Did you…think you saw something—or someone—bad?”

  Giona repeated the word “bad” softly, her expression shifting as realization dawned. Her shoulders slumped slightly, and she brought her hands together at her chest, her fingers fidgeting as she stared down at them.

  The happiness that had lit her face earlier faded into a somber look, her lips pressing into a thin line. Dama waited patiently, careful not to pressure her.

  Giona hesitated, then inched closer to him, as if seeking comfort. Wrapping her arms around his middle, she buried her face into his chest, her voice muffled as she whimpered his name in a pleading tone.

  Though confused, Dama responded by wrapping his single arm around her and holding her close. He remained silent, unsure what to say, but his presence seemed to be enough for now.

  After a few moments, Giona shifted in his embrace. She lifted her head just enough to peek over Dama’s shoulder, her blue eyes scanning the room. Her gaze moved cautiously, searching for the marionette.

  It didn’t take long for her to spot it, as lifeless as ever. In the corner of the room, where Dama had set the basket of produce, the marionette rested lifelessly against the edge of the basket. Its striped limbs and dangling head made it seem harmless, but the mask…

  A sharp whimper escaped Giona’s lips as she clutched Dama tightly once more, burying her face into his chest as though trying to block the sight from her mind. She lifted a trembling hand and pointed toward the basket.

  Dama’s eyes followed Giona’s trembling finger, landing on the marionette resting against the basket of produce.

  At first, he was puzzled, the doll, with its floppy stitched limbs and slightly crooked mask, seemed more amusing than menacing to him. Its odd proportions and clumsy design made him chuckle a little, especially flopped over in the basket.

  Looking back at Giona, though, he saw the terror etched across her face as she buried herself deeper into his chest. It dawned on Dama that the marionette must have reminded her of something—a piece of her past she couldn’t escape.

  The thought made his chest tighten. He didn’t know what exactly haunted her, but the mere sight of this doll was enough to send her into another wave of panic. His first instinct was to get rid of it, to remove anything that could frighten her like this again.

  But just as he resolved to act, another thought crept into his mind, stopping him. The marionette wasn’t just a random trinket.

  It had a story, one that resonated deeply with him. The doll had been loved by a little girl who had succumbed to the Hiyan Plague, the same devastating illness that had claimed his own little sister. After her death, the doll passed to her grieving grandfather, who treasured it as his last connection to her.

  Eventually, it found its way to Jaden, a villager who had also lost his entire family to the plague, just like Dama. Jaden had given it to Dama, saying he felt a connection to him. They both bore the scars of loss, both had been shaped by grief.

  The marionette, though simple, symbolized the resilience and shared pain of those who had survived the epidemic. How could he just throw it away?

  To Dama, it was more than a doll. It was a piece of history, a testament to the strength of those who had endured unimaginable loss. Getting rid of it felt wrong, just like how leaving his family's cabin after their death to go live in Enohay Village felt wrong, like discarding a part of himself and the people he cared about.

  He sighed, torn between his attachment to the marionette and Giona’s fear of it. Looking down at her, he could see how deeply it affected her, how her small body shook as she clung to him.

  -

  Next: (Extra Chapter 15) Shackled Memories: Part 2