Levi's Perspective:
4/11/2017 - 4:24 PM
I squinted a little, tilted my head, and honestly…
"…huh."
That wasn't who I thought it'd be. Not even close.
He was taller, for sure similar to him. And yeah, he had the same black hair and blue eyes, but this guy? He looked relaxed. Too relaxed. The kind of relaxed that says "I'm here just for the food."
And Alina?
Waltzing into a noble banquet in a black shirt? Girl really said, "Etiquette can catch my dust."
Honestly? Iconic.
I was still piecing it together when Aaron's and Xander's auras flared again. The icy, graveyard pressure of a grudge match brewing in real time.
And right before hell popped off—
Alina's voice cut through.
"This is not your personal home. You are not here to posture or bark. Sit down, shut up, and remember you are invited guests into this town."
Aaron froze mid-step.
Xander stopped too, raising a brow. Zain, of all people, casually pulled him back like a kid grabbing his troublemaker friend.
"Fine, fine," Xander muttered. "I had unfinished lunch anyways."
But Aaron?
Oh, Aaron wasn't done. Not by a long shot. He turned to Alina, that cold glint still burning in his glacio-blue eyes.
"You talk big," Aaron said, his voice like steel dragged through frost. "But don't think for a second you're above me. You've never fought Scar either. Never lost to him… yet. You're just his future victim. Just like my current victim."
Alina didn't even blink.
"If you threaten me again," she said calmly, "I will break both your arms, your legs, and deliver your body to Scar as a gift. Nicely wrapped. With a ribbon."
I choked on a laugh.
God damn. She really said that with her whole heart.
Aaron stepped forward, chest rising like he was about to escalate, but that's when he moved.
Black shirt, black overcoat—still the most chill guy in the room.
The man Alina brought.
He raised a hand and stepped forward, elegant like a noble, but smooth like someone who's matured from conflicts. His voice?
Like poetry artifically made somehow.
"Oh relax, gentlemen," the man said, tone like velvet wrapped around glass. "A banquet should be filled with taste, not tension. Your little contest can wait for another time. Right now… it's just poor manners."
Aaron glared at him.
"Who the hell are you supposed to be?"
The man stopped just a few feet from Aaron and bowed slightly. Not low. Just enough to be polite.
"Arius. Mercenary. And part of Levi's team."
I blinked.
Wait—huh?
I hired him? I mean… yeah, that does sound like something I'd do without remembering.
Wait no, Zain was charge of it. Why didn't he tell me the names?
Aaron scoffed.
"So that's what this is? Alina brought a mercenary wearing a normal black shirt herself to a noble banquet? What's next, a homeless person coming to propose us ideas?"
Alina didn't even look his way.
"I'm not the one acting like a barbarian in the banquet. Your manners are embarrassing."
That's when I decided to step in.
Because let's be honest—this was about to turn from funny to funeral.
I sighed and clapped my hands, stepping into the middle.
"Alright, kids, playtime's over."
Aaron and Alina both turned to me, tension still radiating like heat off boiling water.
"We might be from different guilds, different factions, different fashion choices," I added with a smirk, "but we've got one thing in common."
I pointed toward the ceiling, then dramatically turned my finger to the floor.
"We're all here to help Avelric and Rinascita against the Grotesques. That's it. That's the mission. Not ego contests. Not power-staring. And definitely not sword-fights next to others."
Alina… lowered her stance.
Calmly. She didn't need more words. She simply turned slightly, eyes scanning the room again like nothing happened.
But Aaron?
Of course not. That'd be too easy.
He lunged.
Fast. Straight at Alina—an intimidation strike. Enough to scare anyone less than her.
But he didn't make it.
Because Arius moved.
I didn't even see him fully.
One second, Aaron was mid-leap.
The next?
CRACK.
Arius had Aaron's wrist in a lock.
Controlled with one hand like he had enough strength to stop him completely still.
Aaron's eyes widened—not in pain. In realization.
Arius didn't raise his voice.
"I said relax."
…Man. I really do pick the coolest people. Yes, I chose him not Zain. Officially from today.
-----------------------------------
Alina's Perspective:
Wait… did he just come in the way to block that attack… for me?
That wasn't necessary.
I could've defended myself. I would've. Yet… why couldn't I see it coming? Why didn't I react before he did?
The moment I processed the motion, Arius had already moved. Reflexes sharper than mine? No. That's—no, that's impossible. That shouldn't be possible. He was already in front of me, gripping Aaron's arm like it was just something out of ordinary.
I narrowed my eyes.
"You really want to die today, huh?" Aaron snarled, arrogant as ever.
Arius didn't even blink. Still relaxed, still holding that same polite tone that made everything feel… annoyingly calm.
"Oh, I'm just ensuring no violence occurs," he said. "Especially with my friend involved."
His friend. Hm.
Aaron's arm jerked back, trying to escape Arius's grasp—but he didn't budge. The man's grip was like reinforced steel, unyielding, yet calm. Not even a change in expression. Just standing there like this was all too mundane.
Aaron's eyes narrowed slightly. "Your reflexes are like those of an expert. That grip… it has power. Immense power."
Arius gave a mild shrug. "Oh, you think so?"
Aaron wasn't letting it go, clearly getting curious in the way a combat-obsessed brute does when he can't immediately categorize someone. "Tell me," he said, brushing his shoulder off, "What style of swordplay and physical combat do you specialize in? Are you A-Ranked?"
Arius let go of his grip. Aaron took a half step back, flexing his fingers—testing them. His pride looked bruised.
Arius just sighed, smiling slightly. "Oh, nothing impressive like that. I tend to play chess and write in solitude. It's a little hobby of mine."
Liar. But a beautifully constructed one.
Aaron raised an eyebrow, clearly unsure whether he was being mocked or underestimated. Likely both. But in that pause—
"Lord Aaron," Alveric stepped forward, the nobleman's tone gentle, poised, and commanding all at once. "Would you join me for a moment? We can't afford conflict in a place dedicated to unity. As well as I have scar on the line, he is wating for you in the telecasted phone."
Aaron clicked his tongue, but his pride had already been dented. "Fine," he muttered, shooting Arius one last glare. He turned and walked away with Alveric, who still maintained his grace while essentially escorting a grown man out like an unruly child.
Arius just smirked, completely unfazed.
"Quite the scene," came a familiar voice, slightly amused, slightly annoying.
Navina.
I turned my head slightly—she was leaning against a pillar like she hadn't aged a day since the last time I saw her. Crimson dress, smug confidence, eyes that always looked like she knew something others didn't.
"That was rather close. You're pretty good, Sir Arius," she said.
She called him sir?
"Oh, thank you very much," Arius replied smoothly, bowing his head slightly. "A beautiful young lady like you praising me for such a minor action is truly flattering."
Tch.
"Oh, you flatter me as well." Her tone had that sparkle to it. Teasing. Deliberately charming. I could see the gleam in her eyes as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
And suddenly, I felt… something.
My face was a mask of neutrality. As always. But something inside me twitched. Not pain. Not anger. Just… irritation.
Why? Why was I irritated? It was irrational. He was being polite. She was being playful. It shouldn't matter.
…Right?
I turned away, suppressing that internal emotion. Then I saw her—Sylvia, approaching me with wide eyes and an arched brow that clearly said what the hell are you wearing?
Right. The black shirt. The one Arius had picked for me after HE ruined my dress.
Ughh. That bastard.
I'm going to make him pay for this.
--------------------------------------------------
3:47 PM - 1 Hour earlier
Alina's Perspective:
It's a sad world we live in.
I really thought she'd be my lead towards finding Master. But it was all in vain.
Just a dead end. Another one.
Master... you wrote to me in that letter—telling me to protect that girl... to help the people here in Rinascita. But why? What could possibly matter in a town like this? You said something else, too... "enhancing technique." Vague as always. You never did speak plainly. I don't know what you meant by it, but... I'll try. That's all I can do now.
Rinascita was louder than I expected. Not in sound—but in its presence. The streets were carved with memories, people spoke with stories behind their eyes. There was a scent of flowers even in the mess of city life. Bougainvillea vines crawled up the sides of stone houses. Merchants hollered under weathered awnings, and a child ran through the puddles left behind by last night's rain, his feet slapping into the mud like he didn't care how dirty he got.
I wished I could do that.
The roads leading toward the noble district were uneven and slick with wet earth. Mud clung to the edges of my boots. My dress—it was... impractical. Silky, light violet, embroidered with pale silver.
Alveric had insisted that guests "dress to impress." I don't care for impressions. But I went along with it. Master once said, "In a world of eyes, wear the mask they expect before you strike where they don't."
...Still. This was annoying.
Just as I turned the corner near the edge of the district, it happened.
Someone barreled out from an alleyway—no intent, no malice—just momentum. Fast.
We collided.
It wasn't a tackle, just bad timing. But he was solid. Too solid.
I was pushed back, and my balance failed me for once. My heel slipped in the mud. The world tilted.
I hit the ground. Cold, wet—mud splattered up my back and across my legs. The middle of my dress darkened with thick streaks of brown.
My hands gripped the street instinctively.
I blinked, staring forward.
...What just happened?
Above me, the sun pierced between the rooftops. A silhouette stood there—his frame cutting into the light.
I couldn't see his face.
But I felt rage rise like heat inside me.
I looked down. My dress. It was—
Ruined.
"You've got to be kidding me."
As the sun dimmed behind a cloud, his face came into view.
Black hair, a little messy.
Sharp jaw. Blue eyes. The kind of blue that doesn't belong in a place like this.
And a dark overcoat with the collar slightly turned up, like he hadn't bothered to fix it.
"Whoa—ah, crap. You alright?" he asked, crouching slightly and extending a hand.
Pity?
You push me into the dirt and now you're offering me help?
I slapped his hand away without hesitation. My expression stayed blank. Neutrality is a shield—emotions are distractions. If I don't show them, they can't be used against me.
He blinked and pulled his hand back with a small whistle. "Okay. Message received. Calm down it was a honest mistake."
I stood up without a word. Looked down at the mud stains again. It looked... awful. This isn't salvageable. The banquet's going to be filled with nobles and eyes and whispers.
My fists clenched slightly.
His eyes followed my gaze and then flicked up to meet mine again.
"Damn. I really did a number on that dress." His voice sounded like guilt, but his grin said otherwise. "People are gonna wonder why you're wearing such a thing. They might start gossiping if they think you came in from the fields."
I turned my head slightly. "You're unnecessarily loud."
"And you're unnecessarily quiet," he shot back immediately, hands slipping into his coat pockets.
"Do you always crash into women in alleyways and then insult their clothing?"
"Only on weekends," he smirked. "And whenever bad luck throws me at someone who looks like they're allergic to empathy."
I narrowed my eyes.
He stared at me a moment longer, then tilted his head slightly, stepping closer.
"Hey. Listen. Let me make it up to you. I've got an idea."
"I don't need your help."
He raised a brow. "You sure? Because right now you look like a princess who fell into a pigpen and still expects to be let into the palace."
"I'm not trying to impress anyone."
"Then you shouldn't have worn a dress like that."
His words caught me off-guard. Just slightly. I don't know why.
He gestured with a lazy flick of his fingers toward the alley he came from. "C'mon. I can fix it. Or, at least, make it worse in a way that looks intentional."
I stared at him. "That sounds idiotic."
"It is. But fashionable idiocy is all the hype these days."
I didn't answer.
My core strength wasn't weak. I'm trained to withstand more than that.
And yet—when we collided, he didn't budge. My center lost. His didn't.
He's not normal. Not a civilian.
A fighter? An adventurer maybe? His presence… it was sharp. Buried, but dangerous.
There's strength under that sarcasm. I felt it.
That intrigued me more than I want to admit.
"Fine," I muttered at last.
He smiled. Not a warm one—a knowing one.
"Thought so. The name's Arius, by the way. Professional adventurer, part-time dress-ruiner."
I paused a moment before replying.
"Alina."
He started walking into the alleyway, waving his hand behind him without looking back.
"Nice to meet you, Alina. Let's go ruin fashion norms together."
I followed, silent.
I hated this. But…
For some reason, I didn't stop walking.
We reached the end of the alleyway. It opened into a quiet plaza, the noise of Rinascita softening behind stone walls and blooming ivy. No one was looking at us.
Perfect.
I turned to leave, assuming he'd do the same.
But of course, he didn't.
Arius looked me up and down again, his eyes pausing at the muddy streaks staining my dress.
"Alright," he exhaled, hands on his hips like he just solved a great mystery. "How about this: I'll buy you a nice shirt. Casual. Not a dress. Sorry I am too broke to afford those."
I stared at him, unimpressed.
"No."
"How about a white shirt then?"
"No?"
"How about a green shirt then?"
"No."
"How about two shirts then?"
"Stop talking."
He held up both hands in surrender, but the grin on his face said surrender wasn't in his vocabulary.
"Hey, hey, just saying—you look pretty in that dress. Even with the mud. But I'm thinking… black. You'd look even prettier in something black. Something that says 'don't talk to me, or I'll end your bloodline.' You know, fashion-forward."
I narrowed my eyes. "Flattery won't work on me."
"Wasn't flattery. That was an observation backed by science."
I turned slightly to leave.
Then he clasped his hands together—dramatically.
"Please! I won't be able to sleep tonight knowing I ruined someone else's day!"
I kept walking.
He took a step beside me, then loudly pointed to a man sitting at a nearby bench.
"That guy might start laughing at you."
The man looked up. Confused. Blinked. Said nothing.
Arius pointed at another man across the plaza.
"He might call you the Queen of Mud!"
"…Huh?" the second guy muttered, tilting his head.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Are you done humiliating yourself?"
"I'm trying to save your reputation, actually," he said with mock seriousness. "You can't just show up to a banquet like that."
That caught me.
I turned my head, just slightly. "...How do you know I'm going to a banquet?"
"Uhhh... Lucky guess and that I know you're someone special here!"
He probably knew I was a sword saint or something, or he was invited as well.
He smirked wider, sensing the slip. "That's even better! You'll stand out with a shirt. Everyone else in gowns, and there you are, fashion-revolutionary. The trend-setter."
My fingers twitched.
Is this guy really trying to be a smartass with me?
Should I break his arms or his legs?
…Maybe both. That'd be more satisfying.
"Please," Arius said again, voice softening just a touch. "Let me help. I can't forgive myself unless I do something."
"Why won't you give up?" I finally asked, staring directly at him. "Don't you see I don't care? I'm cold toward you for a reason."
For a second, he went still.
Then came a smile again.
"Ice, you say? You consider yourself cold?" He tilted his head, eyes gently scanning my face. "Is that why you haven't made a single expression since we met? Haven't smiled even once?"
I didn't answer.
He stepped back just slightly, giving me space.
"I see… So that's it. You're not the friendly type. Got it. You don't smile, you don't talk much, and you definitely don't like people getting close."
"Correct," I said flatly. "Now get lost."
But he didn't leave.
"I see," he said again. "You consider yourself cold. But let me tell you something, Alina—ice was once water too."
…What?
Ice was once water too?
What is he trying to say?
He looked away for a moment, then back at me.
"I don't know what happened to make you like this," he said, voice still light, but not mocking. "And I'm not gonna ask. It's not my place. We're strangers. I get that."
He took a breath.
"But just this once—let me help you. I'll leave right after. Just a little balance to even out the damage that I caused."
I should walk away.
He's an idiot. A stranger. His jokes are reckless, his voice too casual. He doesn't know me. He shouldn't want to.
And yet…
Ice was once water too.
Why did that line stick?
I don't need help. I've never needed help. Not since I was a child. I've trained myself to survive, to be strong, to become everything Master molded me to be.
Emotion clouds judgment. Smiles are distractions. Laughter is a luxury.
Those things are for people who can afford to be weak.
So why… did those words feel like they scraped something buried?
Was I really ever… "water"?
Before I guarded myself, before I hardened... was I ever someone who could smile? Who could laugh?
...Was I happy?
No. That version of me doesn't exist anymore.
But… what if it did?
What if, deep down, under all this frost, something else was waiting?
No. That's dangerous thinking.
Weakness gets people killed.
The mud had dried by now. Brown crusts clung to the edges of my dress like disgrace clings to those who lose battles they should have won. I walked in silence, eyes forward, spine straight, as if posture could undo the shame of looking like a drenched peasant at a noble gathering.
And this smartass still kept on talking.
"…thirty gold for a dress here," he said casually, his voice sliding into the air like silk over glass. "And the nearest boutique with anything half-decent is two districts the other way."
I didn't respond.
"And of course, walking there would take... what? Thirty minutes? Sixty? Not including how long you'd need to find something that suits you. Meanwhile, the banquet's ticking."
Oh yeah... my money was in the carriage and Sylvia was already in the banquet. Even if I didn't accept; where was I going to go to even buy a new dress?
"That's fine," he said warmly. "I'll cover for you and buy it. Honestly, it's not about the money—look at you, already pulling off a ruined dress with those pretty purple eyes. You'll probably make that shirt look expensive."
I turned my head slightly, eyes narrowing.
Flattery. Obvious.
"It may seem selfish but I also want to see you in a pretty shirt." He said a bit too casually.
And yet…
His tone wasn't mocking. It wasn't laced with that usual aristocratic sarcasm or the fake kindness I'd grown used to parsing from years of noble lies. His words were dipped in something warmer, something annoyingly difficult to pin down.
Was he truly trying to console me… or was this manipulation?
Of course, it was manipulation. No one does things for free. No one compliments someone who's clearly not looking her best unless they want something.
And still…
Still, why did the warmth in his voice almost make me want to believe it?
"I don't need compliments. Leave me alone and go away," I said flatly.
But then he reached for my hand.
Instinct screamed. I tensed. My fingers twitched.
Don't touch me.
I was going to pull away—coldly, immediately—but a flicker broke through the walls I had built.
A memory.
My master… smiling. His fingers gently wrapping around my hand when I was younger. When I had failed. When I felt like I wasn't worthy of holding a sword...
He looked at me and said: "Alina, you should smile. A real one. It means you trust someone with your heart, even if just a little."
I never understood that. Trust was a liability. But in that moment—his hand around mine—I wanted to understand it.
That was the last time I ever smiled before he left...
My hand stopped pulling back.
Before I knew it, Arius was gently tugging me along, down the stone path toward the store, his fingers not gripping too tightly. Just… enough.
I walked beside him in silence. I hated how my heart beat louder than my footsteps.
This is irrational. I don't know him. I should've broken his fingers.
Inside the store, I stood stiff like a statue as he spoke with the merchant. I didn't move until a simple black shirt was gently offered to me. Long-sleeved. High collar. Cotton. Soft. Slightly oversized.
"This," he said with that same smirk, "will make you look mysterious. Like a noble's secret daughter."
I took it without a word, went behind the curtain, and changed.
Chaos.
My mind was chaos.
What the hell am I doing?
This is a shirt.
A shirt.
A plain black shirt.
For a banquet.
I pulled it on slowly. The fabric brushed against my skin like betrayal.
I looked into the mirror and genuinely considered punching the glass.
I looked like someone who had given up on appearances. Someone casual. Someone… approachable.
I looked like a woman wearing a shirt to a banquet.
Why did I let this happen?
When I stepped out, Arius didn't say anything at first. He just looked at me.
I avoided his eyes. His presence irritated me. His words disarmed me. His kindness made me suspicious. And worst of all?
I want to kill him so badly...
"I'm the only woman wearing a shirt to a banquet," I whispered under my breath, almost trembling.
He smiled.
Of course he did.
The bastard probably thought this was romantic progress.
But I couldn't ignore the soft warmth of the shirt… or how my master's words still echoed in my skull:
"Smile. It means you trust someone, even if just a little."
Moments after exiting the store.
The wind brushed softly against my face as I stepped back into the street. The shirt moved with me—a little too loose, a little too soft. I felt like I was walking in someone else's skin. The oversized sleeves flopped lightly as I moved, brushing against my knuckles like some ridiculous flag declaring, "I gave in."
Behind me, the devil continued his work.
"You look cute," Arius said with the sweetness of poison.
I didn't look back. "Shut up."
"No, seriously. Adorably deadly. Like if an angel wore black and carried a knife."
"Keep talking and I'll test the knife part."
He laughed. Again. Always laughing. Like my threats were jokes.
"Lovely. You're genuinely… lovely, Alina."
I stopped for a moment, just to glare at him from over my shoulder. "Do you want to be hospitalized today?"
He held up his hands in surrender, a grin stretching across his face. "Alright, alright. Compliments paused. Only admiration from afar now."
"Good."
Five seconds passed.
"...but I still think you're glowing beautifully."
I stopped walking entirely. In my mind, I had already shoved him into a pit. Set it on fire. Buried the ashes. Twice.
He didn't even flinch.
"And you have that distant, mysterious, cold charm. Like an unreadable poem carved into my heart."
"Are you trying to die?" I asked in a calm, professional tone. The kind people use before an execution.
Arius just stepped beside me like I hadn't just threatened grave violence. "Not yet. I still haven't seen you smile."
I turned on my heel and kept walking, faster now. He followed.
"Why are you still following me?" I asked, monotone but sharp. Like the edge of a blade that hasn't drawn blood—yet.
"I figured I'd make sure no one judges you when we get back. Banquets can be brutal," he said with a soft concern. "And besides, I'm coming too."
I stopped. Slowly turned.
"You what?"
"I'll be there. To ensure nobody laughs at you or anything. That's a good idea right?"
"…Get lost."
"Oof. Cold."
"If you don't disappear in the next three seconds, I'm going to actually break your legs."
He raised his hands again in mock-surrender, this time adding a dramatic, exaggerated bow. "No need to escalate, Lady Blackshirt."
I walked. Fast. Silent.
He trailed behind.
"You really don't have to worry. You look good. Good enough. Great, even—"
"No woman should wear a man's shirt to a banquet." My voice was ice. Murderous ice. "It's uncultured. It looks bad. So shut up."
He chuckled. "I don't believe in logic and science."
I stopped again. "What the hell are you talking about now?"
He stepped up beside me, just close enough to be annoying. "They say the sun is the hottest thing in the universe, right?"
"Because it is," I said, rolling my eyes. "It's a thermonuclear—"
"Wrong," he interrupted, snapping his fingers. "The hottest thing in the universe is you, in that black shirt."
…
I blinked.
Then I facepalmed.
"This is actual torment," I muttered. "Hell is real and it's standing behind me."
He laughed again, unbothered by my total lack of amusement.
"I'm not staying near you," I said. "You go your way. I'll go mine. I don't need protection."
"Fair," he said, finally sounding a bit more grounded. "But I'll be at the banquet anyway. Just doing my job. I don't intend to cling to you like a fanboy, alright? You won't even notice I'm there."
That… was reasonable.
I sighed.
He noticed.
"Oh? A sigh! Progress?"
"Fine. You can attend. Just don't come near me."
He gave a smug little salute. "Understood."
"And if you so much as breathe a single word toward me..."
"Yes?"
"I'm breaking your legs."
"Very fair."
I continued walking.
He followed at a slight distance now, hands in his pockets, whistling some infuriating tune.
And despite it all—despite everything in me demanding I regret this entire interaction—I didn't feel… alone.
Maybe that was the worst part.
Maybe that's what scared me most.
WAIT! He was the one that defended Celia earlier before I arrived... was this all coincidence..?
Yeah.. it had to be.
--------------------------------------------------
4:47 PM - PRESENT MOMENT
Alina's Perspective:
This was becoming laughable.
Was Arius seriously flirting with her now? The entire damn way here, he wouldn't stop showering me in flattery—"most beautiful girl of the evening," "absolutely hot"—those exact words, unfiltered and absurd. Now? Now he sees another woman and switches like nothing ever happened?
Tch.
I didn't feel anything. Just a twitch of irritation.
Was I missing attention? No. Far from it. I don't need anyone's attention. It serves no purpose. Yet… the constant praise on the way here... now suddenly being given to someone else—
Disgusting. Typical. Just a womanizing prick after all.
"Here," a voice slid through the crowd and into my ear. A glass was held in front of me, delicate fingers still touching its side.
Sylvia.
Her presence had always carried a noble scent—poised, composed, confident. She didn't need to say she was a leader. You just knew.
"Figured you might want something in your hand before you start answering the obvious," she said, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Or is that just reserved for our way back?"
"…I'm not answering anything right now," I replied flatly, taking the glass and sipping, using the moment to mask the tightness around my jaw.
"Oh please," she chuckled, brushing her hair back elegantly. "Word travels fast. I heard some man in an overcoat stopped a group from tormenting a white-haired girl earlier like a leader. Rumor has it he moved managed to silience all of them with just words. Sound familiar?"
My hand paused mid-sip.
So she heard. Of course she did. That overcoat, that movement.
Arius.
I didn't respond.
She smiled wider. "Still surprised you made a friend along the way." The way she said friend was dipped in velvet sarcasm. "I almost thought the world was too small."
I stayed silent, not because I agreed—but because I couldn't deny it either.
Then her eyes narrowed as they skimmed down my attire. "And more importantly... why in all of Celestine are you wearing a black shirt to a banquet?"
I stiffened.
She leaned in, whispering just by my ear, "It's buttoned wrong, too. Not exactly you, Alina."
"…My dress got ruined," I said, eyes darting elsewhere, voice low.
"Oh?" she leaned back with a smirk. "Then you shouldn't have come."
…She was right.
Why did I force myself to come?
I could've skipped this ridiculous event altogether. But… he kept talking the whole way. Arius. Kept dragging my thoughts, forcing me to respond, baiting me into dumb word games and subtle taunts, never letting my mind fall into its usual calculations.
Was that intentional?
Was he distracting me on purpose?
And if so… why?
"Oh no…" Sylvia's voice curled again, lips twitching with amusement. "Did your friend ask you to wear that shirt?"
My eyes narrowed. "It was a last resort. I'll explain later."
"Of course," she said with a light laugh. "I'm just saying, most women don't wear a man's shirt to a noble banquet unless—"
"I said I'll explain later."
She raised her hands in mock surrender. "Very well, Lady of Mystery." She followed my gaze toward them. "Though your friend seems… busy."
Navina was standing just a little too close.
And Arius, smiling with that effortless charm, his tone playful yet formal. It was nauseatingly well-practiced.
Navina: "I must say, you carry yourself with quite the poise, Sir Arius. A gentleman among others."
Arius: "Oh, you flatter me. I assure you, I've done nothing to earn such praise. I simply enjoy elegance when it graces my path."
Navina: "Oh? Then I must be lucky to be standing in your path."
Arius: "And I, cursed to be charmed so easily by wit and beauty of yours."
Every word was dressed in manners, but the subtext was skin-deep and obvious. He was flirting—and she was encouraging it. Hiding it under etiquette. Typical nobles.
That twitch returned.
Not that I felt anything.
Just that it was... irritating.
Sylvia chuckled under her breath again, sipping slowly. "You're watching them like a hunter. I almost feel sorry for her."
I said nothing.
My face stayed blank. My glass, still half-full.
Spinning in a very dangerous direction.
But I was calm.
Because I had to be.
Even if I wanted to tear that smug expression off his face.
Then I heard it…
Navina's voice floated out like warm perfume in winter air. Elegant. Drenched in sweetness.
"Sir Arius, you seem like a very eloquent gentleman," she said with a soft smile that no doubt masked layers of intention. "I also saw you earlier—defending that poor white-haired girl. You spoke so gracefully, and calmed the crowd like it was nothing. You're… something special."
Her words were like silk-dipped traps.
Arius, the bastard, just chuckled, brushing it off with a humble grin. "It was nothing. I just said what made sense. Logically, they were acting like fools. Nothing specially, really."
Navina leaned a little closer. "And earlier… you stopped Aaron from striking Miss Alina. That wasn't just logic. That required razor-sharp reflexes. Even I didn't see it coming."
He waved her off again, eyes narrowed slightly in a coy smile. "It was just a fluke. I moved without thinking and somehow it managed to work.."
She smirked—so delicately—and with that syrup-laced tone asked, "Arius, if you'll allow me… I'd like to invite you to my guild—Crimson Eclipse."
I tilted my head, blinking. Seriously? Now? Was she trying to steal him away?
"Are you sure, Miss Navina?" Arius asked, leaning forward just enough to be playful. "I might disappoint you."
Navina smiled knowingly. "I know talent when I see it. I can give you my telecasting number—you could join as early as tomorrow, sir Arius."
I tensed. She was really doing it. Boldly. Shamelessly. Wasn't that… unfair?
I crossed my arms. Why does this even bother me? I don't care where that womanizer goes. Let him flirt his way into whatever crimson cave he wants.
Then Sylvia leaned close and whispered like a devil in a gown.
"Oh look, Alina," she teased. "Navina's going to steal your friend."
"He's not my friend," I muttered coldly.
But my eyes didn't leave them. I knew what he was going to say. People always went with what benefitted them the most. Always.
Navina asked again, slower this time:
"So, sir Arius… do you want my number?"
He smirked, not with the same fake charm, but a sharper grin....
"Nah. I have my own number. I don't need yours."
...What?
Navina kept smiling, but it stiffened just a bit. "I see. That's unfortunate. Still… I hope we'll still get along."
"Likewise," Arius said, voice cool.
Sylvia immediately leaned in closer again, practically vibrating with mischief. "Alina… did you hear that? That wasn't just a no. That was a rejection. A direct one. From a guild leader, no less. That's not common. That's… bold."
I looked at him again. Why? Why would he turn her down?
Navina was… well, everything a man like him would jump at. Pretty. Popular. Powerful. Rich...
Wasn't she prettier than me? Wasn't that why he ran off the second we arrived?
Stop, Alina. Stupid.
Emotion is an inefficient distraction. I don't think like this. I don't need to think like this. There must be a reason.
...Logically, why was I irritated?
My heart rate was irregular. My breath, caught halfway.
Then the memory crept in like frost forming on a window.
My master.
He used to praise me often. Say I was hardworking, determined. "Sweet."
Back then, only he would say those words. And I—
...I used to smile when he did.
We'd train till I collapsed, and afterward… he'd always get me the same stupid vanilla-strawberry ice cream. He said it was "training for the soul." And we'd sit together on the stairs, eating it under the sun. I smiled. I actually… smiled.
Without realizing, my hand drifted up to my cheek. Warm. Was I—
"Are you blushing for Arius?" Sylvia asked, wide-eyed with a teasing grin.
I turned to her sharply, cold and flat. "Impossible. I'd never do that. Now leave me alone."
She chuckled like a noblewoman sipping victory. I hated that sound.
I turned away, back to the crowd.
Only my master ever made me smile. Only he…
Arius? No. He was a womanizing prick. A man who chased me all the way to the banquet like a persistent pest.
I understand why I felt this way now... I was unconsciously giving master's role to that guy... that was so stupid of me.
Unworthy of being my friend even.
Then suddenly—
"Excuse me, sir!"
Two armored guards stomped in from the grand hall's side, their boots clanking like poorly timed drums. One had a scowl etched permanently on his face. The other looked like he hadn't slept since the last Grotesque attack.
"Do you have an invite to this banquet?" Scowl Guard asked, squinting at Arius like he was a misplaced napkin.
Arius blinked, then chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head nervous.
"Ahaha… yeah, about that—I'm kind of a special case."
Both guards looked at each other. Scoffed.
"Yeah, sure you are." Sleepy Guard rolled his eyes. "Come with us, Mr. Special."
"W-Wait, hold up—Alina brought me here!" Arius shouted as they started pulling him back by the shoulders.
Both guards turned to me with their "really?" faces.
I sipped my drink slowly, tilted my head.
This guy seriously trying to leech off me more now?
Fine.
Let's see how he likes this.
I looked at the guards, cool and detached.
"I don't even know him. Throw him outside like trash."
Arius gasped like I'd stabbed him in the heart. "Betrayal!!" he cried as the guards cackled, practically dragging him like a sack of dirty laundry.
I watched. Calm. Cold.
Internally?
HAHAHAHA.
That's what you get for switching up on me—uh, no. For following me here like a parasite.
As the gates closed behind his flailing silhouette, I sighed.
Peace. Blessed, glorious peace.
That guy… he talked with more love bombing than a flirt-obsessed lover. A total flattery monster. If flattery was a crime, he'd be doing life time serving.
Finally, I focused back on my drink. Ah, serenity—wait.
Sir Alveric the noble... no. It's Avelric. Great.
Even my memory was malfunctioning thanks to that ridiculous man.
Avelric now stood at the center of the banquet floor. Polished. Regal..
Aaron reappeared beside him, thankfully with a calmer expression, seems like that talk with scar fixed him.
The hall fell silent as Avelric raised a hand.
"Honored Sword Saints, distinguished guild leaders, and treasured guests of Rinascita—" His voice flowed like music, his tone dipped in years of nobility and wine-soaked diplomacy.
"—Today we gather not only to celebrate your arrival, but to acknowledge your courage. This banquet stands as a beacon of gratitude from Rinascita for your resolve in the face of war."
His eyes swept over us with poetic weight.
"To Sir, Levi and Zain—The Celestial Apex"
To Sir, Xander—Eternal Overseer"
To Lady, Navina—Crimson Eclipse.
To Sir, Aaron as Scar's Proxy—Valhalla.
And to Lady Alina and Lady Sylvia—Requiem."
Sylvia leaned toward me with a smug grin.
I stayed still, not giving her the satisfaction of my reaction.
Avelric continued.
"You are all the finest saints of our time. And soon, you will fight together."
He extended both arms.
"I hereby announce the formation of a sacred alliance: a coalition of all guilds and saints, a union built to protect our lands against the grotesques. We call it… the Celestial Hunt."
A pause.
"Let the Anti-Grotesques Coalition rise and stand strong. Led by all guild leaders, with each of you representing your guilds… we shall endure this crisis, and emerge victorious."
He raised his goblet.
"To the Hunt. To the Alliance. To Victory."
A wave of clinks and cheers erupted.
Voices rang with pride and hope.
I raised my glass quietly and sipped.
Then I looked around.
Faces of everyone here... They were all strong.
This wasn't just a banquet anymore.
It was the calm before war.
The real thing was coming. And I knew it.
The grotesques wouldn't stop.
I had to stop them.
I gripped my glass a little tighter, watching the golden wine ripple.
I can't get emotional. I can't let that flattery freak or anything else cloud my judgment.
I'm a Sword Saint.
I've got one job.
I'll destroy them all.
Every grotesque that dares come near this town will fall.
Just like Master asked of me.
I took a breath. Deep. Silent.
Then I whispered to the wine in my hand, like it could carry my words to the wind.
"I'll do it for you, Master… and when it's over—please…"
"Come visit me again like you promised."
My heart thumped.
One beat louder.
Then another.
I looked down, face calm—
But inside, my chest was anything but.
Because he promised... After it's all over he'll come visit me if I succeeded.
And I will succeed at all costs.
---------------------------------------------------------------- Final
Celia's Perspective: - A lot of hours have passed.
Location: Forest (Nighttime)
It's been… seven hours.
Seven hours since I killed that grotesque. Since I saw the hatred in their eyes—not the grotesque's, but theirs. The people who tried to get rid of me the moment I entered Rinascita.
I press my knees together, arms hugging my legs, back leaning against a damp tree trunk. The bark scratches a little, but I don't move. It's night now. The sky's dimmed into a deep blue blur, and the air's colder than I thought it'd be.
I'm still here.
Why?
Because I don't want to go back.
If I show my face again… someone might remember what I did. What I had to do and my past. And they'll look at me the way they always do when I try to help—like I'm some kind of ticking thing with blood under my nails.
I only wanted to save them. I only wanted to save him.
But in the end, no matter what I do… they still whisper. Still stare. Still hate me.
They don't see me.
They see a monster that wears a girl's smile.
I lower my head onto my knees. My breath fogs against my arms. It's quiet out here, but not in my head. Never in my head.
It's happening again, isn't it? People distancing themselves. Pretending. Putting on their faces and masks. Everyone's always so careful to show the version of themselves they think will be accepted. But deep down, they're all hiding knives.
A tear slips down. Just one. My eyes don't bother to make a second. Even they're used to this now.
No matter where I go or what I give—at the end of the day, I'll always be the girl they approach when they need something… and discard when they've had enough.
Just like Levi and Emma did. That day.
I should've known better. Since my tenth birthday.
No.
Since the day I was born.
People aren't real. They're liars. They mold themselves to fit in, to use others. And once they get what they want… they show you who they really are.
Today? Arius helped me… sure. But let's be honest, he did it because I was useful. That's all.
Just like Alina who wanted to know something from me.
Is that what I am? Something warm to hold when they're cold? Something to patch up the loneliness with?
Maybe I'm just—
No. I need to think. To breathe.
These past hours I've been alone, not just physically—but deep in the silence of my own mind. Picking it apart. Wondering…
This emotion. This messy, confusing, wonderful, terrifying thing we all whisper about.
Love.
Do I really love Kaiser? Or am I just projecting? Another delusional girl who can't tell the difference between obsession and affection?
…
Heh. That's the kind of thought you don't say out loud. The kind that gets people to stare at you like you're unhinged. But maybe I am. Maybe I always was.
I remember something.
Something I buried. Something I should've buried better.
It was night—like this one. Cold, quiet, cruel. I had just found out my friends lied to me. Said they were busy. But they were all out, playing together without me.
And my parents? They broke their promise. Again. Said we'd go out. Just us. Said they'd make time. I even dressed up and waited. But no one came.
They were all liars.
So I left. Didn't tell anyone. Slipped out into the dark, past the fences, past the gardens. There was a spot near the edge of the woods where I'd go sometimes.
To cry.
But that night, something was… different.
There was a tree there. I don't remember it being there before. Thick. Blackened bark. No leaves. And tied to it—a swing. A single rope swing hanging by rusted chains. It creaked softly in the wind.
Was I dreaming? I don't know. I don't think I ever knew after that.
The ground was soft, but there were footprints. Not mine. Small. Lined with something dark. Blood?
No. It couldn't be. Could it?
But I sat. Of course I did. Where else was I supposed to go to cry?
I climbed onto the swing, the rope rough against my hands. It moved.
On its own.
No one was behind me. But it moved.
And that's when I heard it.
A music box. Faint. Off-tune. Playing some lullaby I didn't know.
The moon had hidden itself. There was no light. Just shadows. Long ones.
I should've run.
But I didn't.
The air was wrong. Heavy. Wet. The scent of iron… like something had died nearby.
And still—I swung.
I let the wind and whatever force behind me guide me. It didn't feel like I was in control.
Like… the me sitting there wasn't me.
Was I ever me?
Or was there always something else inside?
A girl who didn't cry. A girl who never forgave liars. A girl who wasn't an angel?
I remember speaking. My voice was quiet, but it came out shaky.
"Are you… my friend?" I said alone to myself on the swing...
No response.
I clutched the rope tighter.
"…Are you the only one who cares about me?"
And then I heard it.
A whisper. Not from the wind. Not from behind.
From inside.
"Friend...? No, Celia... I am you. The part you left behind. The part you couldn't love."
The swing jolted. I gasped, but couldn't move.
"You are not an angel, Celia. You were never meant to be."
"You're a loving murderer."
"And one day… when the world takes what you cherish..."
"You'll tear it all apart to get it back."
I couldn't scream. My throat locked. My fingers bled from how tight I held the rope.
"You think this is about them? About your parents? Your friends?"
"No. This is about your future. When you meet someone who'll make you happy. Who touches your heart and doesn't flinch."
A shadow curled around the base of the tree. Thin. Long. Like a woman's silhouette but too tall… too twisted.
"You'll kill for him, won't you?"
"You'll smile with blood on your face, and he'll still hold you close."
"Because deep down, he knows..."
"You were made to love like this."
I bit my lip until it bled. My chest rose and fell fast—like my heart wanted out of my ribs.
"Don't fight it. This kindness you wear... it's just lies on the surface."
"Let them call you a monster, Celia."
"But when you kill for love… you'll finally be free."
The music box stopped.
And the swing slowed.
When I looked down… my hands were clean. The blood was gone.
But the voice stayed.
It never left.
Even now… it whispers.
And sometimes…
I whisper back.
I stared at my hands.
My fingers twitched slightly… as if reacting to a memory too distant and too deep to belong to this world. They were trembling. But it wasn't fear.
It was doubt.
"…Why?"
My voice barely came out. Just a whisper to the forest night.
Why…
Why had I never lied to him?
I lied to everyone.
To my parents—I told them I wanted to sleep alone when all I wanted was to isolate myself.
To my friends—I said I was just tired, when in truth, I wanted to cry alone.
To strangers—I smiled, hoping they'd see something loveable in me.
But it was all a performance. A cute little girl who made it easy for them to believe I wasn't dying inside.
Yet with him…
I never had to act.
I never could.
Even when I smiled through my tears… he saw it.
That night… when I was breaking and pretending everything was fine…
He didn't fall for it even for a moment.
He didn't ask me anything. He just held me.
And in that moment…
I didn't cry alone.
"…Kaiser."
I said his name like it was a sin.
And maybe for someone like me—it was.
I smiled. A wide, sweet, innocent little smile.
But inside?
Inside, a monster was laughing.
Because now I understood something terrifying about myself.
Something honest.
"Kill for love,"
That's what that thing said to me. That shadow… the one that swung me as a child under the blood-soaked tree.
"You'll kill for him, won't you?"
Would I?
I clenched my hands tightly into fists. Nails digging into flesh.
Blood threatened to bloom under my skin.
"Yes…"
I whispered.
Because I will.
No matter how I look at it—
I obsessively love him.
He's mine.
I worked every day. Every sleepless night.
To get stronger.
To bring him back.
To be useful enough to stand beside him.
That night—months ago—
When he said he was good with women…
I wanted to chain him to me. Lock him somewhere no one could reach. No one but me.
When he went to comfort Emma…
I wanted to grab her by the throat and rip her voice out for stealing his attention.
And that morning…
When they went out together,
I wanted to follow her and cut her into pieces.
But I didn't.
Because I thought love was gentle. I thought love was selfless.
But no—
My love was selfish.
It was violent.
It wanted.
And maybe… maybe that's okay.
Because I never lied to him.
Even when I smiled, he knew.
Even when I stayed silent, he heard.
Even when I pretended, he saw me.
This…
This wasn't just love.
This was devotion.
A murderer's love.
And what's wrong with being a murderer…
If I get to be happy in the end?
What's wrong with being the villain…
If I'm smiling with him?
I am not an angel.
I never was.
The shadow was right.
I'm a monster dressed in sweet skin and soft red eyes.
A liar who tells the truth only to the one person she loves.
And now…
I accept that.
I accept me.
When I burn the grotesques down to ash…
When I make them crawl like insects under my feet…
When I carve their hive into a throne of bones—
I'll take back what's mine.
I'll get him back.
And I'll keep him.
Forever.
Even if time ends.
Even if I have to cut the world apart just to stop it from taking him again.
Because I want to keep him forever.
Because I love him more than I love anything.
More than I love myself.
More than I care about right or wrong.
I smiled again.
Not the fake one I gave the world.
A real one. Dark. Warm. Unholy.
"…You're mine, Kaiser."
My whisper melted into the night as I never returned back that night... alone to myself in the dark.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Next stop: The Grotesque Hive Raid.
Let them prepare.
Because the girl who used to cry alone on the swing…
Now swings the cause of blood.
And she doesn't miss.