As Kiri disappeared beyond the door, I slowly sank back into my seat. It felt like a hole had been punched through my chest, and a hollow emptiness was taking over. I had stood up when he had walked away, but I still couldn’t make myself take a single step. I hadn’t even called out to him.
That hollow space was soon filled with despair.
He had left money behind and simply said, “See you,” before walking away without so much as a trace of anger.
Why was he so calm? How could he leave, just like that? Surely he must’ve had at least one or two things he wanted to say to us. At the same time, some part of me was relieved he hadn’t. Not wanting to hear what he might have to say was why I didn’t chase after him, yet I was horrified at my own inaction.
Kiri was always kind to us, even though we treated him horribly. Even though I said such awful things. Even though I never even thanked him for saving us. And after all I did—after all I failed to do—I still haven’t apologized.
“Why?” I asked out loud.
It wasn’t like I never had the chance. I could’ve said something right after he saved us, or while we were walking back to town. There had been plenty of opportunities, but I was too afraid to face him.
“Why did it have to end up like this?”
If he had just gotten angry, then at least I could’ve had the chance to be forgiven.
I covered my eyes with both hands. I fought against my urge to cry with everything I had. I didn’t deserve to shed a single tear right now. Someone who was selfish, thoughtless, and too cowardly to apologize had no right to cry and pretend to be worthy of compassion.
I had thought I was right. Goblins were dangerous monsters that attacked people and stole crops and livestock. Enough of them could destroy entire villages or towns. Clearly, there was nothing good about leaving them alone. That was why I had thought seeing a goblin meant you should defeat it. Because of that, Yune and I had nearly died. And the one who had come to save us could have died in our place.
I had worked hard and learned magia despite its difficulty, so I had thought I could handle a fight. But I didn’t have nearly enough strength, knowledge, skill, or experience. Even after returning safely, I still couldn’t stop trembling.
When the goblin had brought its blade down on Kiri, I’d felt all the blood drain from my face. Despair had nearly crushed me when he had collapsed to the ground. While Yune had been healing him, when he had still been unconscious, I remembered not feeling alive at all—just numb.
“Someone could’ve died. We could’ve all died out there because of me.” I had to say it, even though I didn’t want to admit I wasn’t strong enough to carry that kind of burden. I couldn’t even thank him. I was so desperate to escape from the guilt, to push the blame onto someone else, that I had ended up lashing out at the one person who had done nothing wrong.
How can he just walk away after all that?
“Maybe leaving behind the goblin hunting money is his way of saying we’re even,” Yune murmured beside me.
She sounded completely drained too. He had saved us, but Yune had healed him with her magic. Maybe he saw that as a lingering debt, and he was settling the score by leaving behind our share of the reward. If that was the case, then it really was over. I had broken the party apart to begin with, and now all ties had truly been severed. There was nothing connecting us anymore.
“That was scary, huh? Being an adventurer,” Yune said. Her voice was quiet as she shivered beside me.
I couldn’t nod, because I couldn’t agree with her right away—not because I hadn’t been afraid during the adventure but because I wasn’t sure what she was referring to: Was Yune afraid of the goblins, or was she afraid of him?
I had seen how Kiri had swung his spear at the goblin. I had heard the sickening sounds and watched blood fly through the air. I had been right there when he had beaten a goblin’s face into an unrecognizable mess, until there was no doubt it was dead, and I had felt the terror when the goblin that should have been defeated had risen and attacked me from behind.
I had witnessed what it truly meant to kill. I had seen the eyes of someone who carried the resolve to fight until the enemy was dead, no matter how horrific the means. And I had frozen at the sight.
When I had first stepped into that mana-rich field, surrounded by the beautiful landscape, a rush of exhilaration had filled my body. I remembered thinking, “So this is adventuring.” I had truly believed that was what it meant to be an adventurer.
But I had been wrong, and now I understood. Yune seemed to understand it too, deep in her bones. The real essence of adventuring lay in the depths of his eyes.
“It was scary,” I finally said.
Kiri knew. He knew—he knows—killing is the only choice when your life is on the line. And if you can’t accept that, you die.
I wanted him to be angry. I wanted him to blame me. He could’ve told me, “From now on, you do what I say,” or even, “Don’t ever show your face again.” Anything would’ve been better than him walking away like that.
I just... I want him to tell me how I can make it right.
“Yo, what’s with the mood here? You at a funeral or something?” said a loud, familiar voice.
“Youthful drama,” added a smoother voice beside it. “Pairs nicely with a drink.”
Those were voices I recognized—voices I had no desire to hear. I looked up anyway and saw two faces I knew. They placed wooden mugs filled to the brim with alcohol on the table, pulled out the chairs opposite us without so much as a by-your-leave, and sat down.
“Well, you two look pretty funn—I mean, depressed,” said the man with a crooked grin. “If you want, we veteran adventurers can lend an ear.”
The woman next to him wore a small, elegant smile. “Right now, we’re the ones who know him best.”
It was that rude warrior whose name I couldn’t remember and the beautiful mage, Sheya, two of the adventurers Kiri had introduced us to from the sewer expedition. They were sitting across from Yune and me like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Wh-What are you doing here?” I asked, still stunned.
“What do you mean, what?” the warrior asked, leaning back and stretching an arm over the back of his chair. “The kid’s spear was busted, and his browplate had that gash in it. Clearly something went down, yeah? And you two look like you’ve been through the wringer. Of course we’re gonna check in.”
“We’re in the mood to look after some newcomers,” Sheya added lightly, taking a sip from her mug without looking at us.
So it was just on a whim, then. Here we were, seriously and painfully shaken, and they just showed up with drinks in hand like nothing was wrong.
“Anyway,” the warrior said, resting his elbows on the table, “let’s hear it. What happened? Talking it out doesn’t cost you anything, right?”
If it had been any other day, I might’ve yelled at them. These two were easily the most obnoxious people in the whole adventurer’s guild as far as I was concerned. But the truth was, they did seem to know Kiri really well. That mage had even gone so far as to lend him one of her expensive magia books. They were clearly closer to him than we were, plus we had no one else to turn to.
I had no idea what I was supposed to do. “The truth is...” I began hesitantly.
I refused to believe that it was supposed to end like this. I couldn’t just leave things as they were. So I clung to the two people in front of me—the only people who might understand how I felt—and told our story.