Chapter 60: Charlotte and Soliloquy

…Silence.

Riven seemed calm, yet he didn’t move an inch.

His complexion looked pale. He must be utterly exhausted.

『Please lie down.』

"But, this is…"

『It’s Trishel’s bed. No need to hold back.』

"Still…"

It seemed he was hesitant because it was a woman’s bed.

But she was the one who led him here. Clearly, she wanted him to rest. If he complained about it afterward, I’d honestly get mad.

『If there’s any issue, I’ll speak for you.』

"…Alright. Sorry, but I’ll rest a little, then."

With that, he finally lay down.

Feeling along the edge of the bed, he searched for a stable spot, then turned his back toward me.

…He can’t even see, and yet he deliberately turned his back? Is he embarrassed, maybe?

After showing that vulnerable side of himself, perhaps. Thinking that way, I couldn’t help but find it kind of cute.

I lay down as well, aligning myself with his back.

There was nothing in particular to do. Until Trishel returned, we had nothing but time.

When our backs touched, Riven shifted slightly, but that was all.

He might be able to sense presences, sure, but only that. He couldn’t tell who or what kind of presence it was. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have needed to ask if Trishel had left earlier.

So, I decided—I’d stay by his side. Close enough, in a way he could recognize.

Back in the dungeon, he’d only understood once I’d hugged him tightly.

Quietly, I closed my eyes.

Now that I thought about it, I was also completely worn out today. Delving into the dungeon, fraying my nerves in the darkness, wearing myself down further against lunatics, then worrying over Riven on top of it all…

Anger furrowed my brow. Damn it. Haven’t I been pushed too hard lately?

And it’s all because of money. If only I hadn’t blown everything at the auction. Wasn’t that overdoing it? Too reckless?

But no… Well, maybe I regret it a little. Yet, even if I could redo it, I’d probably make the same choice again.

That’s how furious I’d been back then.

"Funny. It’s not like we’ve even known each other that long."

Maybe it’s because his anxious expression reminds me of my past self.

Thinking back, it feels like I was always running from something. From time, from pursuers, from death itself.

I ran desperately to make it this far, but I don’t think I’ve ever really looked back until now.

Why is it, I wonder? Why do I feel this way now?

The warmth from his back, faint as it was, felt strangely comforting.

"…No, that’s not it. I’m jealous."

Saying it aloud, the feeling finally settled.

I was jealous of him. Jealous of Riven.

Since when? I can still clearly recall the look in his eyes that day at the Stray Cat Tavern, when he declared, “I will accomplish what must be accomplished.” Maybe that was the moment.

It reminded me of even earlier—of Reynard.

He too had pressed forward with unwavering resolve, carrying a wish he absolutely refused to abandon.

Back in the days of the Crimson Sword, he had been the same. Even after our party collapsed in tragedy, he kept running forward until he founded the Crimson Bell.

Even though the incident had been so gruesome it made me swear never to join another fixed party again.

It was only possible because he had that will.

Because he had fully envisioned the future he wanted to achieve, he could keep facing forward.

I don’t have that.

I’ve lived my life just going with the flow. And I know it.

I didn’t live to live. I lived simply not to die.

That’s how it’s been since the very beginning.

When my family was slaughtered, I didn’t even think of revenge. I lived because I was told to live. That was all.

When I trampled over others, it was to survive.

When I debased myself and threw everything away, it was to survive.

I lived because I was told to. Never once believing there was anything waiting for me at the end.

Ah, now it makes sense.

I’m jealous. Jealous to the core.

They don’t live just to keep on living. Even if it kills them, they live for the sake of achieving what they must. And that brilliance—it dazzles me.

I’m drawn to their light, burned by their heat, clinging to them for warmth.

Like some kind of parasite. I almost laughed at myself.

Now I understood why I kept shouting “Don’t give up.” How selfish of me.

Because when I was beside Riven, I could see the same view as him. Facing the same direction, toward a goal.

It let me believe—I too have something I should be doing.

Yet, even with our backs pressed together, it felt like we were drifting farther apart.

The more I thought about it, the more glaring the differences between us became.

Maybe that’s why it angered me so much.

How could someone so careless cause such pain to someone who’s giving it their all?

It’s not right. It’s just not right.

That time before, when Riven had sunk into despair—it was the same.

Even though he carried enough fire to stake his life on, I couldn’t help but wonder why he could be so weak-willed. Was it really something he could give up on so easily?

That’s why I pushed him.

I strung together words that sounded convincing, forcing my own desires onto him.

I didn’t want a blazing sun that burns with life to be dimmed by some drifting cloud.

I wanted him to shine brightly. To scatter the shadows and radiate all the more brilliantly.

Otherwise… what would become of me? Wouldn’t I look utterly pathetic?

Why do I keep thinking this way?

Why can’t I just shrug it off like always?

If I did, tomorrow would be another fun day, just like before.

Riven would somehow pull through. Trishel was already working to help him.

And once Reynard returned—he was dependable enough that things would surely improve.

…But me? What was I supposed to do?

"…Charlotte. You’re there, aren’t you?"

"Yes."

Called by name, I pressed my back a little harder against his, rubbing against him.

Even if words couldn’t reach, at least this way he’d know I was here.

"…………"

"Is something wrong?"

I knew he couldn’t hear me, but the words still slipped out.

And somehow, I couldn’t help but hope he’d answer anyway. A selfish little wish.

Ten seconds passed, maybe more. He must have been wrestling with whether to actually say it aloud.

"…I’m grateful."

"Huh?"

—I was stunned.

"No, truly. I’m grateful."

"Wh-what’s gotten into you?"

"Honestly, I’m surprised myself."

Surprised—at what?

Before I knew it, I had sat up in shock. The warmth against my back was gone, but Riven didn’t seem to notice, continuing on.

"Until now, I would have thrown away the future of becoming king."

"You can’t mean that…!"

"But strangely, I feel as though things will return to how they were."

Even with his face turned toward the wall, I knew he was smiling.

Even though he couldn’t see, I was certain. That same look he always gave me—exasperated, yet smiling, as if to say I was hopeless.

"My reason, my instincts—they tell me it’s impossible. This is most likely a true loss."

Ah… so he really does understand.

My fists clenched so tightly that my nails dug into my palms.

"No matter how I think about it, no solution comes to mind. To be honest, not even compared to Rosalind’s case can I see a brighter future."

And yet, he continued.

"It’s thanks to you. That I can still be like this."

I couldn’t understand what he was trying to say. What had I ever done?

"You remember I told you about Tenyuu?"

I nodded.

A friend of his—the one who inspired him to set his goal. And the original owner of that sword.

"Originally, I was aiming to become a civil official."

That too surprised me.

A civil officer—wait, that kind of civil officer? The political kind, who doesn’t fight?

This guy? From how he is now, I can’t picture it at all.

"The only one among my brothers without a divine right—I was never fit to be king. So I figured the least I could do was support the king. Back then, I threw myself into study."

…Yeah, I can picture that a little.

If he had a goal, he’d move straight toward it. That was just a different goal at the time.

"And the one who came to scold me for giving up from the start… was Ten’yuu."

His voice carried laughter. You could hear how close they must have been.

Come to think of it, whenever he mentioned Ten’yuu before, he always seemed cheerful.

"He was a strange one. Went out of his way to seek out the brother furthest from the throne, only to tell me I should be king. Foolish. What a fool."

His tone was growing more and more amused.

Even without seeing him, I could tell the memories were vivid in his mind.

"He dragged me around endlessly. He’d spout some nonsense, Rosalind would object, and the two of us would gang up on her—only to be taught what the floor tasted like."

Yeah, I can picture that.

That person definitely would’ve stopped Riven by force if he tried something reckless.
She seems like the type who, being too smart, would calculate all the risks and never let him do anything half-baked.

And he did it multiple times? No wonder he grew wary of her.

"He said things like you, too. Unlike you, though, he was a man."

I flinched a little.

The truth is, I’m a guy inside. But there’s no way I can say that out loud.

"Thank you. Thanks to you all, I’m able to take steps forward."

Why did he choose to tell me this now?

This story has to be a precious memory to him.
After all, it’s about the friend whose keepsake he longed for so desperately.

A treasure he must want to hold onto forever, deep inside himself.

"…That’s all."

"Ah, hey, wait—!"

Without answering my question, Riven abruptly cut the conversation short.

Well, it hadn’t really been a conversation anyway—I hadn’t had a chance to respond.

But still, having someone talk at me and then end it on their own feels irritating.

"…He’s asleep."

I reached for his hand, meaning to say something, but instead I heard his soft, steady breathing.

So he spilled everything he wanted to say, then relaxed enough to fall asleep?

I couldn’t help but let out a wry smile.

"What the hell’s that supposed to be."

Suddenly, everything felt ridiculous.

After hearing all that one-sided nonsense, laughing was the only option.

I exhaled once, then slapped both my cheeks hard.

Smack! The sharp crack lingered, heat buzzing across my skin.

I blew out one long breath, then inhaled until my lungs ached, and let it go again until I was steady.

Alright. No point brooding over this.

I’ll ask Trichelle tomorrow. About everything.
She knows the most—moving forward without talking to her first would be the real mistake.

Better to do something constructive than sulk.

Tomorrow. Whatever I do, I’ll decide after I’ve slept.

"Guess I’ll sleep too."

Saying it aloud brought a wave of fatigue over me.

Problem is, in this bare little room, there’s only one bed…