episode_0056

“Was everything you showed me until now all a lie? Were you laughing at me while deceiving me?”

“Ah, no… Ari-na, it was for you—”

“For me? Are you seriously going to say that violating me in a world I don’t even remember was for my sake too?”

Though it happened in an entirely different timeframe, in a world separate from the one she lived in now, that very fact only amplified the terror of the unknown.

Traversing time and dimensions. It was nothing short of divine territory, yet Marin and Porter spoke of it as if it were trivial.

Now that she thought about it, those two had always carried an air of something distinctly alien. Not just in speech and behavior, but their morals and values were vastly different from the people of this world.

“Have you really descended from the realm of gods?”

“Not quite… There is someone who created this world, but we’re not some grand divine beings—just ordinary people.”

“The Demon King said this world has repeated countless times. Was that the doing of just you two?”

“I don’t know for sure… but I think it was the collective playthrough records—memories left behind by all the players who experienced the game.”

In Ari-na’s eyes, that meant the humiliation she suffered under Porter had been witnessed by countless people.

Unbearable shame and resentment welled up inside her. Even without being told, she could imagine the depravities they must have committed while watching her being violated.

“I can’t believe it… Are all the people in your world perverts like that? Do you really enjoy watching others get raped to the point of despair and tears?”

Marin lowered her gaze, silently enduring Ari-na’s sharp condemnation. The people who create and consume fiction, and those who live within that world—their perspectives could never truly overlap. It was a dimensional difference in every sense of the word.

Her tragedy was nothing more than entertainment for people in another world, comfortably seated as they watched. Even if she understood it intellectually, her heart could never accept it. Marin thought she, at the very least, should bear the brunt of that anger.

A deep sigh escaped Ari-na as she watched Marin, who was usually loud and abrasive, now rendered utterly silent. Though she hadn’t acknowledged it for long, she had considered her a companion—a friend.

Perhaps if there had even been a clumsy excuse, just one comprehensible reason, she might have forgiven her. But with her lips sealed like this, Ari-na could only say one thing.

“Never show yourself before me again.”

That was the extent of the mercy she could offer the woman she had briefly called a friend.

Marin hesitated until the very end, unable to say anything, before finally slumping away, completely broken. The place where countless emotions and relationships intertwined now held only Ari-na and Ian.

Watching Ari-na gaze after Marin’s lonely retreating figure, Ian asked,

“Are you really okay with letting her go like this?”

“And what? You want me to keep acting friendly with a woman who betrayed me with a smile?”

“I never said that.”

Ari-na’s tone was colder than ever, making it clear nothing was okay, but Ian held his tongue.

He silently followed as Ari-na trudged down the mountain path. They arrived at the village, where the remnants of the festival were being cleared away.

As they walked through the streets, one of the women spotted Ari-na and enthusiastically waved.

“Ari-na!”

The young woman who ran over was someone Ari-na—the amnesiac version—had been quite close with. From what Ian recalled, just yesterday, the two had been whispering secrets like the best of friends.

The woman latched onto Ari-na, muffling her voice with a cupped hand to avoid being overheard, whispering into her ear.

“How was it? How was it? It was amazing, right? Ian is so handsome, seriously! Plus, he’s talented and a noble? You’re so lucky, I’m jealous!”

The suggestive smirk and the way she playfully jabbed Ari-na’s side left no doubt about what she was implying. Last night’s conversation—between the other Ari-na and this woman—shone clearly in her memory.

But those were someone else’s memories, and this woman felt like nothing more than another person’s friend.

“Nothing happened.”

Ari-na lightly pushed the woman’s arm away and walked off without another glance.

“Huh…? What’s up with her?”

The woman was left bewildered, rubbing her own arm. The Ari-na she knew had always been warm, someone who never got angry. Yet now, her gaze was so icy it was hard to believe she could become like this overnight, no matter what had happened.

Now, even her friendship with Marin—arguably her only female friend—had been severed. Her aversion to women seemed to have deepened beyond what it was before.

“Ian, did… did you do something to Ari-na?”

“That’s not it. It’s just…”

Ian hesitated before realizing there was no need to explain. Ari-na was leaving this village anyway.

“Ari-na was always this kind of person.”

“Ah… Did her memories…?”

The fact that Ari-na had lost her memories was common knowledge in the village. From just those fragments, the woman quickly pieced together the truth.

“Even so, can someone change this much just from getting their memories back?”

“There was a reason. It’s… not my place to elaborate.”

It wasn’t something to casually discuss with others.

“But she’s not a bad person. She just has a hard time with others.”

The place Ari-na arrived at was the vacant house she had received when she first came to the village. After the elderly resident passed away, the building had been unused. When she arrived, she repaired and cleaned it, so letting her stay there for free was no loss.

For Ari-na, who had lost her memories and had nowhere to go, it had become a place to rest. She might have grown somewhat attached—but even that wasn’t her emotion. Sighing, Ari-na checked the outfits hanging in the wardrobe.

Though laundered, the other Ari-na had never worn these. The reason was simple: they were torn from battle damage, and combat clothes not designed for aesthetics weren’t pretty anyway.

On the other hand, Ari-na only cared about practicality—whether they were comfortable or durable.

The only difference was the presence of memories, yet their choices in clothing alone made the distinction between the two starkly clear. Feeling it keenly, she grabbed a change of clothes before hesitating and hanging them back up, exiting the bedroom.

When she stepped outside, Ian was in the lounge. Lilith—who had likely taken her only chance to flee—and Daniel weren’t coming back, making Ian the only friend left to her.

But this shouldn’t be. He shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t have any friends left. She needed to be completely alone now.

Gritting her teeth, Ari-na glared at him, shoving him back against the wall. Without mana reinforcing her strength, it was feeble—more accurate to say Ian let himself be pushed.

Fully aware of that, she pressed her forearm against his chest and looked up at him with a sharp gaze.

“Why are you here, Ian? I told you back then—I said I was going back!”

“Exactly. I went back, then came here again. I inherited my father’s title, so now I’m Baron Felix.”

His casual shrug, as if it were obvious, only stoked her anger.

“If you’re a baron now, then tend to your territory! What are you doing here?!”

Her burning gaze locked onto him. This was the first time Ari-na had ever been genuinely furious at him.

He had always respected her wishes, stayed within bounds. That was why Ian Felix had remained by her side as a friend. That changed today—no, exactly one month ago.

“Don’t ask the obvious. To protect you.”

“A weakling like you wants to protect someone?”

“I know I’m not strong enough. That’s why I took the title early to leverage my family’s power. And wasn’t it useful once already?”

If Ian hadn’t been there, she would have fallen into Porter’s hands again by now. But even so, Ari-na refused to acknowledge it. She didn’t want to.

“Who even asked you? You might think you’re helping me, but you’re not. Protect me? If you force help onto me despite me refusing, how are you any different from Porter?”

Unwanted kindness is no different from malice.

She remembered once sharing drinks with him when they’d had this exact conversation.

He couldn’t have forgotten. Why, then?

Ari-na’s voice, sharp with fury, began to waver.

“I told you… why I refuse your help. Why I need to be alone! I don’t want to lose anything more… Especially not you… So why…?”

Drop. Drop. Tears as large and clear as her eyes spilled down her face.

To her, Ian’s kindness was a worse enemy than Porter’s malice or the greed of the three nations. She could crush hostility, but there was no way to shake off his goodwill.

Like a child throwing a tantrum, she weakly thumped his chest with her delicate fists.

“Go. Just go… Why can’t you just leave me alone…?”

Thump. Thump. Her powerless fists were caught. In an instant, she was pushed back. This time, overwhelmed by sheer strength, she was pinned against the wall.

Startled, Ari-na looked up to find Ian wearing an expression even angrier than hers had been earlier.

“How am I supposed to leave you alone when you always look so fragile? You don’t want to lose me? Then what about me? Do you really think I wouldn’t care if I lost you?”

He was certain—no matter how much Ari-na grieved when she lost herself, it would never compare to how he would feel if he lost her.

He could declare it outright. I love you dozens of times more than you love me. What I feel—enough to call love—is on a completely different scale from what you hold.

“How can someone be this selfish? I wish I could forget someone like you too.”

The harsh condemnation in his glare wounded her without her realizing it. She had pushed him away, yet when he moved to leave, she nearly reached out instinctively to stop him.

“Good. Then just forget about me.”

“That’s the problem. I can’t. When I’m away from you, I spend every night worrying—did you get hurt in a fight? Did that bastard capture you again? I can’t even sleep!”

Once unleashed, his emotions spiraled beyond his control—words he hadn’t planned to say spilled out. If she kept resisting, he was ready to make sure she could never push him away again.

“Then… what was I supposed to do…?”

Overwhelmed by this unfamiliar roughness in him, Ari-na trembled as she spoke.

“You shouldn’t have opened up to me in the first place.”

“If you were going to act strong, you should’ve stayed strong. Shouldn’t have shown me that lonely side.”

“Shouldn’t have made that pained expression.”

“…Shouldn’t have shown me it was possible that day.”

Mid-sentence, his hand brushed her cheek. The sensation of their lips meeting still lingered, impossible to forget.

“It’s too late, Ari-na. I can’t let you go now.”