As Eídal followed Adriano, he couldn't help but feel dizzy. The entire building was so dazzling. The floor was lined with birch planks, and the walls, an immaculate white, were free of stains and dust. Numerous vases with red flowers and paintings of women with contemplative expressions adorned the space.
In contrast, he looked as if he'd emerged from a swamp, dripping water with every step, blood smudged on his face. The staff eyed him with disdain, as if he were a black stain on a pristine white blanket. To them, he was definitely the villain in the story.
The one positive in this whole adventure was that Pia had selflessly let him eat her snacks. Feeling his stomach full gave him an odd sense of satisfaction.
"Maybe that saying is true: 'A full stomach makes a happy heart,'" he mused to himself.
"By the way," Adriano interrupted, "thanks again for trying to save me."
"Calling it an 'attempt' is a bit discouraging," Eídal replied.
"Is it? But it's the truth."
"Ugh. How blunt."
After climbing what seemed like endless stairs and winding through several corridors, Adriano stopped in front of an enormous white door. It was obvious this room was the most luxurious in the place. Even the doorknobs were adorned with golden orchids. If Adriano asked him to open such a beautiful door, Eídal would firmly refuse, afraid of dirtying it.
"My apologies," Adriano called into the room. "There's a matter that needs your attention. Ms. Astrid, are you available?"
"Ah, Adriano, is that you? If it's you, come in," a cold voice replied.
Eídal straightened his back.
"Any plan?" Adriano asked, turning the knob.
"Huh? No, none."
"Strange."
"Please, stop being so blunt."
Eídal swallowed nervously as he prepared to face the final boss. He knew he couldn't waste this opportunity; otherwise, it would cost him the fifth use of the thorcam[emotion containment]. Now that he had felt the effects of its side effects all at once, he began to value each use more.
"No," he thought. "That doesn't just include the thorcam[emotion containment]. I also need to be careful not to waste the uses of the other three."
If he wasn't careful with his use of the thorcams, his defeat would be inevitable.
◇◆◇
The sun had already set, and the relentless rain darkened even the street lamps. Eídal was surprised to find no lights on in Astrid's room. For a moment, he wondered, "Is this the infamous door to hell?"
Once inside, he saw Astrid sitting at the far end of the room, in a chair with a small lamp beside her, reviewing several scrolls with a look of annoyance.
"She knows full well I won't read these," she muttered. "Yet she sends them to me nearly every day. Haah. Adriano, Adriano, could you read them for me and give me a summary afterward? As one of my superiors used to say, 'Try to condense it into a single sentence.'"
"Ms. Astrid," Adriano called.
"What?"
When Astrid turned and saw Eídal, her expression darkened.
"And you?"
At her cold tone, Eídal stepped back in terror, but Adriano held him in place. If it weren't for the thorcam, he might've wet himself right there.
"Aren't you going to speak?" Astrid said, now standing mere inches from his face.
How did she get so close so fast?! Eídal stifled a scream and replied, "There... there's… Ahem. There's something I'd like to ask of you."
Crossing her arms over her chest, Astrid took a step back and looked at Adriano.
"How long are you going to act like nothing matters to you? I gave you an order."
"I'm sorry."
"No, you're never sorry. Haah, leave us alone."
"But—" Adriano protested.
"At least this time, just do as I say."
Bowing his head, Adriano left the room. As the door closed, darkness filled the space, leaving only the small lamp on the table, where Astrid had been reviewing the scrolls.
"Hey, your name was Eídal, right?"
At her stern voice, Eídal straightened up.
"Y-yes!"
"What do you want?" Astrid demanded.
If Eídal were honest, what he really wanted was to run away. He realized his mind was already searching for ways to open the door and escape. Astrid stirred in him a strange blend of emotions, like standing before an erupting volcano: a mix of fear and admiration.
Clutching a small decorative crystal he'd bought that morning in the square, Eídal tried to steady his mind. Fueled by nostalgia, he spoke up.
"To be honest, I have something I'd like to ask of you, Ms. Astrid."
He tried to be as respectful as possible.
"Oh? What's that?" Astrid raised an eyebrow.
Some said that to reach the top of the world, the first step was to admit one's weaknesses, something like, "Know your flaws and overcome them, or else your flaws will become stones in your path." Eídal wasn't sure if this was entirely true, but he had nothing to lose by trying.
"Today," Eídal continued, "around noon, I realized something. That's why… I…"
The prolonged confinement was taking a toll on him. Even under the effects of the thorcam[emotion containment], he found it hard to form a convincing sentence. How could he win over the heroine? The question and his fear of failure tied his tongue. Was there some kind of magic word? Eídal didn't know how to mix truth with lies, so he just let his voice come from deep within.
"I… would like… if… could you please…" he sighed. "C-could you…? Tsk."
How long had it been since his voice shook like this? Maybe ten years.
"I-I…"
The last time he struggled this much to speak was when he faced his mentor Albert and told him how he felt. Being sincere was difficult. Yet, even in speeches, there was a need for tact, choosing the most suitable path to persuade the listener.
Taking a second breath, Eídal lifted his face, though he looked to the side. He tried to control his tone as he continued.
"You know? I've never… considered myself strong."
Whether out of pity, consideration, or surprise, Astrid remained silent. Eídal was grateful for her silence. She was undoubtedly a remarkable person. On the other hand, wasn't it fortunate that the thorcam[emotion containment] hadn't reset?
Increasing the intensity of his words, Eídal continued:
"…I was born in a remote village." He showed a faint smile. Little by little, he adjusted his expression and tone of voice. "I'm… what people would call 'a good-for-nothing.'"
With a softer look, still avoiding Astrid's gaze, he continued:
"I've never been special, strong, or attractive… And honestly, socializing is as difficult for me as getting up in the morning… I'm selfish." He put a bit more strength into his voice. "And even though I want everything in the world, I never dared to overcome my own laziness. Ha! I'd even like someone to invent a quick formula to solve all my problems." He clapped his hands together. "In two steps, if possible!"
Eídal admitted he had never achieved anything in life. He could very well die in a lonely room, and no one would care. However…
"It's my fault." Finally looking at Astrid, he confessed from the depths of his heart. "That things ended up like this, it's my fault."
At this point, his voice was without hesitation.
"It's my fault for waiting for someone to save me. It's my fault for thinking the world would stop if I asked it to. But… I'm tired. So this is my last gamble."
Staring intently at Astrid, who was listening in silence, Eídal spoke with determination:
"Miss Astrid, I admit it: I'm weak." The flickering light from the lamp illuminated the profile of his face. "Encountering the Weepers made me realize that. Even so, I want to stop waiting for someone to save me; I want to stop relying on people's goodwill. But to let go of my dependence, I must change, right?" He placed a hand over his heart and took a step forward. "I need to become strong!"
Because Astrid was taller, Eídal had to look up at her, a true image of an ant against an elephant. Yet, with his emotions now contained, Eídal didn't let himself be intimidated. He took another step, bringing their faces so close that even a slight movement would have resulted in a collision. Irritated, Astrid mumbled, "W-wait," but Eídal didn't pull back. His gaze wasn't rude or hesitant—it was resolute.
"You all looked so cool while fighting at noon. You're the ultimate definition of skill, bravery, and strength I've ever known. That's why, to become strong, I need to be like you. To learn from you. So please… can I join your group?"
Eídal ended his plea with that final question. Each word was chosen carefully, like constructing a house of cards. Only Astrid's approval could bring that image to life. Though…
"Annoying," murmured Astrid. "Why are you so stubborn?"
Eídal responded without hesitation:
"I won't give up. I don't care if I'm defeated; everyone loses. But what I won't allow is to give up before I've spent my last breath, including my teeth and bones. No one knows what will happen until the very end."
Astrid's golden eyes widened and narrowed, revealing a mix of complex emotions. Unable to turn away, she asked:
"Self-pity?"
"No, it's not self-pity. I'm just being realistic," Eídal replied firmly.
"It's still self-pity."
"I see. Even if it is, I want to crush that feeling and stop waiting for someone to save me. I won't ask for any recognition or reward."
"And what would you gain from that?"
"I already told you, didn't I? By learning from you, I'll become strong."
Because of the night's chill, worsened by the pouring rain, their breaths became visible, mingling in the narrow space between them. It was as if both were burning from the inside, but there was nothing romantic about it.
With each exhalation, their breathing began to synchronize, building up anticipation, like two cowboys awaiting the high-noon chime, ready to draw their guns and face off. It was the kind of feeling a sniper must have right before pulling the trigger.
Astrid was the first to move. She clicked her tongue and took a step back, but Eídal caught her by the forearm.
"Even an idiot like me wants to conquer the world!" he pleaded. "For my own selfishness. To achieve my goal. So that no one can crush me when I finally reach the top. Please, Astrid, help me become strong!"
Eídal's gaze was piercing. His hand didn't waver, and his voice, though sensitive, was filled with an unspoken firmness. Even Astrid seemed taken aback, blinking several times.