Chapter 84: Riven and Confession

"Haa… haa… haa…"

"Looks like we finally shook them off."

"Y-you’re way too fast…!"

"You could’ve said that earlier."

We had been running for over ten minutes. Abandoning the main street, we slipped into a narrow back alley. I had no sense of the area, but those humanoid figures kept flooding onto the main road without end. Diving into the alley was a gamble, but they didn’t follow. Thanks to that, we finally had a chance to catch our breath.

"Ahh… I can’t anymore. I’m done running."

Charlotte sank to the ground and leaned back against the wall, fully at rest. Hmm. Her complexion looks a lot better now—maybe from the exercise. Even though this is supposed to be a dream, the exhaustion feels entirely real. Honestly, if I didn’t already know, I wouldn’t suspect this was a dream at all.

Too vivid to be a dream. Too warped to be reality. So then, what is this place…?
…No matter. It has nothing to do with our goal.

"Rest for a bit. I’ll scout ahead, check for pursuers, and look for an exit."

As I said that and turned to leave, I felt a faint tug. Glancing back, I saw Charlotte clutching the hem of my clothes.

"A-are you going out?"

"Yeah. We don’t know if it’s safe here. I just need to check the area."

It was necessary. Being ambushed mid-rest would be the worst outcome. But when I explained, her eyes filled with tears.

"Don’t… leave me alone…"

Logic told me to go. You can’t just let someone rest in uncertain territory without checking the perimeter. But how was she now? Looking closer, her trembling hand on my clothes made it clear—if I left her, she might crumble on the spot.

Right now, I’m the only ally she has here. And everything so far makes one thing obvious: this dream exists to corner her.

"…Want to just talk, then?"

When I sat down beside her, her face eased with visible relief, a faint smile softening her expression. Even if I couldn’t guarantee safety, I could at least protect her. Awkward or not, that was my decision.

"That said, I don’t exactly have funny stories. Anything you’d like to hear?"

"Your story about your sister was… actually kind of interesting."

"That one, huh… She’s always done things her own way, so she dragged me along a lot."

Especially back then—I had no intention of becoming a king. Whenever I tried to recall a story, it inevitably involved her. She was showing her talent from a young age. Even the founding of Haiden began with her taking in and nurturing people. …She was never short on stories. I never thought I’d end up grateful for them like this.

"…Hey, Riven."

"What is it?"

Her tone dropped, like she was about to ask something difficult. Even so, my answer was already decided.

"Will you… listen to my story too?"

"Yeah. As much as you want."

Of course. If it eased her heart, I’d listen for as long as she needed. Maybe reassured, she rested her head against my shoulder. I shifted slightly, but she didn’t seem to mind.

"…Riven, why did you save me? Why go this far for me?"

Still anxious, but unable to hold back, she asked. I clenched my teeth. She must be truly cornered.

Right now, she’s searching for something to cling to. Unstable, uncertain—wanting to believe, but unable to. At first, it was pure emotion. Now that she was calmer, she was seeking a reason.

"Let’s see. There are a lot of reasons, but how should I put it…"

What could untie her fears the most?

"One is… because you once helped me. It’s common sense to repay a debt, right?"

Even as I thought, I kept talking. Silence only bred anxiety. If I wanted to reassure her, I needed words.

"We’re also comrades, and we made a contract. Thanks to you, we’re close to the dungeon’s treasure. No one would throw away a lead now."

No. Those words meant nothing.

"And besides—"

I stopped mid-sentence.

"…Besides?"

"…………"

Even when she asked, her voice uncertain, I couldn’t answer right away. Should I tell her or not? She needed something solid to hold on to. If I revealed my true feelings, would that only make her more uneasy?

No. This silence itself was the problem.

I glanced at Charlotte. Sure enough, she was watching me with worried eyes. Seeing that, I couldn’t stay silent.

"The reason doesn’t matter. I just couldn’t leave you alone."

She shifted slightly, staring at me more intently. I kept my gaze forward, refusing to meet her eyes.

"I’ll be clear. I don’t really know the deeper reason. I just wanted to. I thought I should. And I didn’t want to hold anything back. The thought of you disappearing… I just couldn’t sit still anymore."

I can’t believe I just said that. The thought almost made me laugh.

“That’s all,” I murmured, ending it there. I had nothing more to offer as an answer.

Afraid to see her reaction, I froze, staring straight ahead.
But the weight on my shoulder told me she was still there—that was enough. I almost didn’t dare to find out what expression she wore.

So when her next words reached me, I felt a flicker of relief. At least she didn’t sound disappointed.

"…Riven, you don’t really know much about my past, do you?"

"Yeah. You wandered, became an adventurer, then started delving dungeons with Reynard and the others. That’s about it."

It wasn’t a lie. All I’d needed to know was whether she was an enemy.
And now, that didn’t matter anymore.

She was a comrade. An important one. And—
…No. Pointless thought.

"Will you listen? To everything about my past?"

"—I’ll listen. Tell me."

Her reasons didn’t matter. She wanted to talk, and she wanted me to hear. Then I would. That’s what she needed.

The weight on my shoulder grew heavier. She wasn’t just resting her head anymore—she was leaning fully against me.

"I told you about my village being attacked and me being the only survivor, right?"

"Yeah. Back at the auction."

I could never forget.
It was when I’d felt powerless against Rosalind, crushed under my own weakness. She’d told me those words then.

"This is about what happened after that. My mother’s dying wish was for me to put survival above all else. I was even younger than I am now… it was hard, you know?"

What Charlotte described next—her half-life—was almost impossible to put into words.

I knew her kindness well. And during Salem, I’d seen how decisive she could be when necessary.
So I could picture it.

Before she came to this town, before she became an adventurer.
To survive, she’d used people. She’d relied on her looks, played with hearts, manipulated, begged, been used in turn—balancing on the edge day after day.

Each time she stepped on someone to climb higher, she told herself it was necessary. And each time, she lay awake haunted by those she’d trampled. Even now, the dreams sometimes returned.

A girl with no family, no status, and no money had almost no options. In the end, the only path left was the one in the shadows.

You could pity her, but blaming her would be misguided. The only ones who could judge her would be others who faced the same circumstances yet chose differently—rising to stand in the light instead. But such people don’t exist.

Even so, the thorns of her “sins” remained buried deep. The wounds were still fresh and raw.

"What I hated most was how I tried to blame my mother for everything."

She had wanted to lay it all on her mother’s shoulders—the things she’d done, the pain she’d suffered. If she’d never been told to survive, she wouldn’t have had to suffer like this. If she’d chosen death, she wouldn’t have had to step over anyone.

And what she hated most was herself, for trying to shove the guilt and pain onto her mother.

"…Do you despise me?"

Those words echoed what she’d said back at the auction. “Just being alive means gaining things”—that hadn’t been a lie. It’s just that what she’d gained also included pain and suffering.

The words I’d once thought were positive… maybe they weren’t.
Because gaining everything also means you can’t throw anything away once you’ve taken it on.
The burdens, the pain, the responsibility—she’s still carrying them all, unable to escape. Ah, yes. That could make anyone want to die.

"So, what do you think now that you’ve heard all that?"

She asked, and I had to answer. This time my answer was already decided. No need to think.

"Let’s see… hearing all that actually makes me feel relieved."

"—Eh?"

Apparently, she hadn’t expected that. Her surprised little sound was almost comical.

"Like I’ve said before, I’m a coward. I’d rather face someone whose depths I know than someone whose depths I don’t."

"Even if that someone is this filthy?"

"Filthy? That’s better, isn’t it? Far more trustworthy than the spotless types."

I could almost see the puzzled look on her face. The thought amused me a little. Maybe this was how Tenyuu felt that day—when he’d pulled me out of that room and spoken those words, telling me I wasn’t what I’d convinced myself I was, shutting myself off from the future.

“Because, you see…”

“‘Because,’ you say?”

I let the words hang for a moment on purpose. It might come off as a little cruel, but just this much, I wanted to savor.

“It means there was something you wanted to protect—even if it meant dirtying your own hands. Isn’t that proof enough of how much it mattered to you?”

Yes. Exactly.
Doing what you don’t want to do—that alone shows how precious it was to you.
What is there to be ashamed of in that?

Of course, a wrong is still a wrong. People will call it a sin, a vice. But even so, what matters is whether you can say you fought for something you truly cared about.

“A soldier on the battlefield is, after all, a killer.”

The sudden shift in topic made her stiffen, her confusion obvious.

“Killing one’s own kind is a sin. Trampling someone’s hopes is a sin. Yet even so, they fight—for something they must protect, for a wish they’re willing to risk their lives for.”

I pictured them—those who go to war for their country. For something they cannot surrender. For something more precious than their own lives. People who fight, even staining their own dignity.

“In the end, what matters is this: you fought for something you could not surrender.”

How is Charlotte any different from such a soldier?
Didn’t she also fight for something she couldn’t give up?
Then what is there to be ashamed of?

“If you’d committed atrocities purely for your own pleasure, then yes—I’d have to bring you in. But that’s not the case, is it?”

“N-no, of course not, but…”

Her voice trembled. Tears again. Rosalind would probably say the right thing to do here is to let her cry in silence.

“Don’t worry. Something like that isn’t enough to make me your enemy.”

At those words, the quiet sound of sobbing began beside me. By the time it stopped, Charlotte had fallen asleep. The strain on her mind must have reached its limit. I wondered if her dreams would be peaceful, but that was a trivial thought.
If she could rest—truly rest—then that was enough.