Chapter 9: The Worst Reunion (9)

[9] 1. The Worst Reunion (9)

Sometimes, we leave a part of ourselves in the past.

It’s like dropping an anchor.

Life is often cruel, and we are too weak to stand alone in the storm. So we gently lower ourselves into the most glorious days of our lives.

So that we can always return.

But sometimes, the past takes a part of us.

It’s like becoming a slave.

Even in our most glorious days, all it takes is a small trigger, and the past drags us back in.

Back to the days when the sound of our hearts breaking was clear and sharp.

***

It was a day when even the heavens seemed to weep.

The sound of rain filled the world, and black raindrops slashed through the air.

Amidst it all, Amy stood before the shack where the boy had lived.

The torrential rain had washed away the blood he spilled, but it couldn’t erase the marks of violence he had endured.

The shattered shack door creaked in the wind, and rainwater pooled along the dirt path created as the boy was dragged away.

And at the end of that dirt path lay a table.

A table with a large guillotine upon it.

It was there that the boy’s hand had been placed, and it was from there that it fell, rolling across the ground.

Amy had made it happen.

Amy knelt before the table.

She had cried for three days straight, Until her tears had run dry. She simply traced her fingers along the blade of the guillotine.

She made a vow in her heart. No, she begged herself.

If only,

If only the boy had lived.

If such a miracle were to be granted to her.

She would never let this happen to him again.

She would become his shield.

She would never let him get hurt again.

***

When Amy came to her senses, she found herself in the mountains.

She had left her armor somewhere and was wearing only her casual clothes, a sword clutched tightly in her hand.

And Rem was in danger.

That single fact alone made everything else meaningless.

“Rem!”

Amy shouted desperately as she ran, as if begging for an answer. Her cry drew beasts towards her, but she didn’t care.

She cut off a wolf’s head and roared,

“Rem! Where are you?!”

The girl failed to keep her vow.

It was pure chance that she found out Rem was still alive.

One day, she overheard her porter, Irene, say the name ‘Rose Rem Mercenary Group.’

Feeling a strange pull to the name, she began investigating the mercenary group as if possessed.

And then she learned that the vice-captain there didn’t have both hands. And that his name was Rem.

That night, Amy cried all night, curled up in a ball. She was crying out of joy.

She cried in gratitude that the boy was alive, that she could still keep her vow.

The next morning, she immediately put in a request to the mercenary group. She signed the contract without even reading it, and then asked to see the vice-captain.

She wanted to see the boy alive, to feel his presence with her own eyes, her skin, her ears.

And as she wished, the boy appeared before her once more.

Broken and scarred.

It was an invoice, delivered late, for her sins.

It was stark evidence of how her mistakes had ruined the boy’s life.

And Amy couldn’t bear it.

Just the sight of him made her sick of herself, made her hate herself, so she kept her distance. She couldn’t even bring herself to look at his face, averting her gaze.

She ended up running away, unable to face her sins.

And once again, the price of her cowardice was paid by the boy.

On the day of the necromancers’ attack…

Amy remembered seeing the boy, being carried back on the barbarian woman’s back, covered in blood.

The boy was barely breathing, his breaths shallow and weak.

Even though she was right there.

At that moment, Amy wanted to rip her own heart out.

“Rem! Answer me!”

Amy roared, crushing the skull of a wolf that was charging at her. Her hands started to tremble.

Not from exhaustion. From fear.

What reason did she have to live if she failed to keep her vow again, if she had to face the boy’s pale corpse?

Did someone like her, who had fed the boy’s wrists to a guillotine, deserve to live?

“Hero?”

***

I looked at Amy, who had appeared before me, stunned.

She looked like she had lost her mind.

Scratches and bite marks covered her entire body, and there wasn’t a single spot that wasn’t stained with blood.

“Rem…?”

Her voice trembled like her eyes. I scratched my head and opened my mouth,

“Where did you put your armor and why are you wearing casual clothes? And what about the others? Don’t tell me you came here alone…”

I didn’t see her hands or feet move. Next thing I knew, she was already standing right in front of me, her hand gripping my wrist.

“H-Hero?”

“Are you hurt?”

“No, but first, let go of my wrist…”

“Are you hurt?”

I could feel her trembling hand through my wrist. I looked into her eyes, which were clouded and unfocused.

I sighed.

“I’m not hurt. Nothing happened.”

That was a lie.

I had already gotten into a fight with the cultists. I bled, and my guts almost spilled out. I would’ve died if it hadn’t been for the potion that Irene gave me.

But I think it was a good thing that I didn’t tell her the truth.

“…!”

Because the moment she heard those words, her face softened, and she collapsed to the ground.

“Hah… Ugh…!”

Her face twisted in pain as she looked down at her feet. I followed her gaze, and my own face also contorted.

“Don’t tell me… you ran all the way here barefoot?”

Her feet were red and mangled, her skin hanging loose. They looked incredibly painful.

“…I must have lost my shoes while I was running. I’m fine.”

“Fine, my ass. What do you mean fine?”

I strode towards her, taking out a potion and bandages from my bag.

“Give me your foot.”

“…I’m fine.”

“It’s not. Just give it to me.”

Amy hesitated for a long time before slowly extending her foot towards me. I carefully soaked the bandages in the potion and started wrapping them around her foot.

“Ugh…!”

A stifled groan escaped her lips as she felt the sting.

The question that had repeatedly surfaced in my mind came back once more.

Why?

She’s going this far just because I pretended to have lost my childhood memories?

Just what were those memories?

All Amy knew about me back then was that I was a beggar child…

“Rem.”

I looked up and saw Amy’s contorted face.

But the grimace wasn’t from pain.

“…There’s something I have to tell you.”

Her voice was shaky, as if each word was a struggle to get out.

I knew it.

What Amy was about to say was the answer to my question. At the very least, it would give me a clue.

I waited for her to speak, silently watching her.

“I…”

And then, a long silence.

I could feel her foot trembling through my hands.

“I…”

Her voice was even quieter than before.

Amy’s face twisted miserably.

“I…”

Now her voice was barely audible.

The only sound that could be heard in the silence was the rustling of bandages.

And then, Amy covered her face with her hands.

“…Was your friend. A very long time ago.”

Her voice was strained.

And then, she didn’t speak anymore.

…Why?

I swallowed down the emotions rising within me.

And then, I forced myself to act cheerful.

“Is that so? No wonder you bought me so many things.”

I finished wrapping her foot and stood up, smiling.

“Judging from all the gifts you gave me, it seems I was a pretty good friend.”

“Yes… you were…”

“Oh, really? Could you tell me more about that?”

“…I’ll tell you later.”

It was a childish charade.

Even as I spoke, I could hear the awkwardness in my voice, and Amy kept her hands covering her face.

We were speaking, but neither of us wanted the other to believe what we were saying.

We were simply trying to avoid something that was too painful to face.

“Rem…!!”

Fortunately, the charade soon came to an end.

A familiar voice called out along with a bright light. I turned my head and saw Clara emerging from the bushes.

Although not as bad as Amy, she also looked disheveled.

Scratches covered her body, and tear stains were clearly visible on her face.

But unlike Amy, Clara reacted differently when she saw me.

“Oh, thank God…!”

*Hug*

Before I could even react, Clara rushed over and hugged me tightly.

“I’m so glad…! I’m so glad…!! I thought you were…!”

“C-Clara! Y-Your clothes will get dirty…! And…!”

I stammered, feeling a heavy weight pressing against my chest.

She was a real clingy kid back then…!

To escape this heavenly, yet guilt-ridden prison, I placed my hands on her shoulders. But Clara didn’t budge.

“If you were hurt again, I…!”

“Why don’t you stop making a scene and look around?”

A cold voice instantly silenced the commotion.

Clara’s body stiffened, and then she slowly let go of me. Turning her head, she looked at the third person to arrive.

“You came pretty quickly, Parsley.”

Parsley didn’t answer her question. Instead, she simply turned her gaze to me and, pulling down her blue hat slightly, asked,

“…Potions aren’t a cure-all.”

I flinched involuntarily. How did she know?

“…Come see me later. I know more about potion side effects than any priest.”

“Ah, okay…”

“And you, Clara, why don’t you tend to Amy?”

Clara, who had been glaring at Parsley, finally turned her gaze towards Amy.

Amy was sitting on the ground, her face blank. Clara’s eyes stopped at her bandaged feet.

“…Stay still.”

With a sigh that could also have been a groan, Clara crouched down in front of Amy.

Then, a white light emanated from her hand and flowed into Amy’s feet.

I let out a sigh of relief and turned my gaze towards Parsley.

“First of all, thank you for coming. But where are the others?”

“Don’t worry, they’re on their way.”

And as if to prove her words, I heard a familiar shout coming from the bushes next to us.

“Big bro!!”

I barely managed to withstand Feya’s tackle. She clung to me, her eyes filled with tears.

“A-Are you alright?! Are you hurt?!”

“…I think I’m going to get hurt because of you…”

Feya was a bit too strong for my frail body to handle.

“I-I’m sorry…!”

Realizing her mistake, Feya quickly let go of me. Rubbing my sore arm, I said,

“Where’s the Captain?”

“…She’s guarding the camp with the others. She said someone has to watch over the house…”

I let out a sigh of relief at her words.

If the Captain had come here too, I would have cursed her out.

“That’s good to hear. Now then, let’s go back to camp.”

I turned to walk back to the camp. But I couldn’t take more than a few steps before I had to stop.

“Shouldn’t you get some rest? And get treated by the would be saint…”

I turned my head and looked at Feya, who was clutching my sleeve. Sighing, I shook my head.

“Can’t you see that I’m perfectly fine?”

“B-But…”

I cut her off.

“It’s fine, Feya.”

And then, without realizing it, I put my hand in my pocket. I felt something hard and smooth at my fingertips.

What I had retrieved from the necromancers’ hideout.

“Besides, there’s something I have to discuss with the Captain right now.”

*****

TL Afterword: Ahem so I would like to apologize to all the readers reading this, I have mistranslated a bit… What should have been ‘Captain’ was translated as ‘Boss’. If you see this afterword, then that means the mistranslation has been fixed.