I took another look at Alad, lying sprawled across the ground with his chest slowly rising and falling. Judging by his shallow breaths and the slight droop of his eyelids, it seemed unlikely he'd be awake anytime soon. Satisfied with that, I straightened and turned toward Crestia. She hadn't moved an inch since I'd last glanced her way. Her small figure seemed even smaller against the darkening backdrop of the woods, the quiet tension lingering in the air around her.
As I started toward her, her eyes widened slightly, and I caught a flash of fear. She took an involuntary step back. Was she really that afraid of me? My stomach twisted at the thought. I'd just defeated her bullies without breaking a sweat, so maybe it was only natural she'd be intimidated. Even though I hadn't intended to scare her, I couldn't shake the sense that I'd accidentally stepped into the role of a monster in her eyes.
I paused a few paces away, carefully maintaining a distance that allowed us to speak without making her feel cornered. I wanted to show her she didn't need to be afraid of me, even though I wasn't exactly sure how to go about it. Words tended to escape me in these kinds of awkward situations, so I decided to keep it simple.
"So, are you okay?" I asked, doing my best to keep my voice soft and nonthreatening.
Crestia hesitated, glancing between me and the ground before nodding, though her movements were stiff and guarded. "Yeah," she replied, her voice barely a whisper. Her shoulders were still tense, and I could sense her unease lingering in the way her eyes flickered. It felt strange seeing her like this. Normally, she wouldn't miss a chance to scorn or snap at me. Yet now, there wasn't a trace of that defiant attitude. Instead, she was quiet—cautious, even.
Trying to lighten the mood, I offered a small, reassuring smile. "Please don't be scared of me. I promise, I'm not going to do anything to you," I said, letting a playful note slip into my voice. I hoped it would ease some of the tension that hung thick between us.
Crestia just looked at me, her expression blank and unreadable. She didn't respond, didn't smile back, just continued to study me in a way that made me feel as though she were weighing my words carefully, trying to decide if she could believe them.
The silence stretched uncomfortably, and I found myself fumbling mentally for something else to say. What did people usually say in situations like this? I had no clue. Talking to someone who didn't already trust me wasn't exactly a skill I'd mastered, and with Crestia, it felt like I was navigating a minefield with each word.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, her voice broke the silence. "Umm, th-thank you… very much… for saving me," she stammered, her cheeks flushed as she quickly bowed her head in a gesture of gratitude.
I blinked, caught off guard. A thank you from her was the last thing I'd expected. The two of us hadn't exactly gotten along before today, but here she was, her voice trembling with genuine appreciation. Something in her tone surprised me, softened the unfamiliar sense of warmth that stirred in my chest. I'd never imagined her looking so vulnerable, yet here she was, standing before me, her usual walls momentarily lowered.
I shrugged, attempting to play it off casually. "No problem," I replied. I could feel the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. "It's not every day I get a chance to be the hero."
Her lips twitched, almost as if she might smile in response, but the expression didn't quite reach her eyes. Instead, she averted her gaze, her shoulders slumping slightly as she shifted her weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other. That flicker of unease in her eyes returned, as though something heavy lingered just beneath the surface.
I decided to push past the hesitation gnawing at me. "Actually," I began, pointing over my shoulder toward Alad and Werk, both still sprawled across the ground, unconscious. "I wanted to ask… who exactly are they? And what's their relationship to you?"
At my question, Crestia's face went rigid, and the color drained slightly from her cheeks. Her fingers tightened around the fabric of her sleeve, and she glanced quickly away, a look of profound discomfort shadowing her features. It didn't take much to see that I'd struck a nerve.
I could feel the sting of regret immediately. What was I thinking, asking something so personal out of nowhere? "Ah, sorry about that," I stammered, holding my hands up in a placating gesture. "You don't have to answer. I wasn't thinking… sorry for asking like that."
Crestia's head snapped up, her expression a mixture of surprise and… relief? She hadn't expected me to back off so quickly, I realized. There was a subtle shift in her stance, and her grip on her sleeve loosened, though her gaze remained on the ground. I wondered if she'd planned on saying anything at all, but after a moment's hesitation, she took a deep breath and spoke.
"That guy with the gray hair…" she began slowly, her voice steadying as she glanced back toward Alad. "His name is Alad. We've… known each other since we were kids." She paused, her eyes growing distant, almost nostalgic. "We come from the same village."
The revelation threw me off. Given her initial reaction, I'd assumed she wouldn't want to share anything at all. But here she was, voluntarily opening up, even if only a little. Her voice held a mixture of resentment and sadness, as though her memories of Alad were tainted by something that ran deep and painful. For a second, I saw a side of her I'd never noticed before—a part of her that wasn't made up of quick jabs or cold glares. It felt strange, seeing that side of her, and yet… somehow, it wasn't as unpleasant as I would've thought.
"Alad…" I repeated his name, glancing back at his limp form, sprawled out on the ground. "So, you've known him that long, huh?" I said, more to myself than to her, though she nodded slightly.
Crestia's gaze grew distant again, as if she was lost in a memory. "Yeah," she murmured, almost as if she'd forgotten I was there. "Since we were kids…" Her voice trailed off, and for a second, the air between us felt heavy with words left unsaid.
She looked at me with her striking red eyes, a flicker of something between fear and resignation buried deep within them, as if she were both hoping and dreading for me to ask her to continue. Her hands were clenched tightly in her lap, knuckles pale, and she seemed to be battling her own reluctance.
I gave her a small nod, hoping to reassure her. "Go on," I said softly, keeping my tone gentle.
With a shaky breath, Crestia finally continued, her gaze drifting off into the past as if she could see it all unfolding again before her. "Ever since we were children, he's been that way—a bully. All the kids in our village used to call him 'boss.' No one dared to stand up to him," she said, her voice almost a whisper. "His father started training him in swordsmanship before he could even hold a sword properly, even before they knew if he'd ever be talented with a blade."
I nodded, grimacing as I began to understand where his arrogance came from. Crestia's words painted an all-too-vivid picture of a boy who had grown up with a sense of entitlement, fueled by his father's influence. This was a type I knew well—the kind of person who got away with everything because of power, because of status.
Crestia glanced at me briefly, as if gauging my reaction, before looking down at her hands again. "Even I wasn't spared. Once, I tried to stand up to him. I didn't give him what he demanded one day, something trivial. I just wanted to keep my own things, and he... he didn't take that well."
She paused, swallowing hard, her fingers pressing into her knees as if she needed something to hold on to. "That day, he told me... he told me that if I ever spoke a word of his bullying to my parents, he'd tell his father to get rid of them. Kill them." Her voice trembled at the end, barely audible, and her face grew pale as if the memory still held a tight grip on her heart.
I clenched my fists, feeling a surge of anger rise in my chest. I couldn't imagine the terror she must have felt, a child facing threats that no one should have to deal with. "That's horrible," I said softly, my voice barely containing my anger.
Crestia gave a small nod, her expression a mixture of fear and shame. "My parents… they're just ordinary people. They don't have any magic affinity, any talent for swordsmanship. I couldn't bear the thought of them being hurt because of me, so I never said a word. For three whole months, I kept quiet, enduring the bullying, until finally, he left for the academy."
She let out a shaky breath, as though the memory itself had been suffocating her, and for the first time since she'd started talking, she managed a small, bitter smile. "When he left, it was like a dark cloud lifted. I could finally breathe again. My life went back to normal… as normal as it could be, anyway. And then, when I turned seven, I discovered I had an affinity for water magic."
Her eyes briefly lit up, a small spark of pride breaking through the fear. "When I found out, I thought, 'Finally, I have something, some kind of strength.' I thought that meant I wouldn't have to be afraid anymore, that I could stand up for myself if he ever came back."
I watched her closely as she spoke. This side of Crestia was one I had never seen, a side that bore wounds no one should have to carry. She wasn't the confident, unyielding girl I'd known. Right now, she looked like a young girl who had once been trapped in a nightmare she couldn't escape from. It was unsettling, hearing the story behind her usual scornful looks and tough exterior.
"The day finally came," she continued, her voice so soft that I had to strain to hear it, "when I was sent to the academy. I told myself that I wouldn't let anyone push me around anymore, so I hid my fear and put on a tougher personality. I thought if I acted strong, no one would see the scared girl inside."
But then, her expression darkened, her gaze hardening. "It worked for a while. But it all came crashing down when I saw him again. During the opening ceremony, he spotted me in the crowd. And the look he gave me…" She shuddered, the memory clearly chilling her even now. "It was like he hadn't changed at all. If anything, he seemed even more pleased to see me than before, as if he'd been waiting all along."
I could almost see it, a smug grin on his face as he looked down on her, relishing the power he still held over her. The rage inside me flared, but I kept my voice steady for her sake. "What did he do?"
She let out a bitter laugh, one that was filled with both self-mockery and despair. "He reached out, all friendly at first, saying things like, 'Long time no see, how have you been?' and pretending to be a good old friend. But then, just when I thought maybe he'd changed, he leaned in close and whispered, 'Come to the forest clearing near the academy tonight. Alone. And if you think of ignoring me… well, you know what'll happen.'"
Her voice cracked, and she hugged herself tightly, her expression twisted with pain and frustration. "It felt like I was right back where I started, no matter how much I tried to act tough. He saw through it all."
Her confession hung heavily in the air between us, her pain raw and open. And for the first time, I understood why she always acted so guarded. Behind her scornful glares and biting words, there was a girl who had been forced to build walls just to survive.
My chest tightened, sympathy mixing with anger as I imagined the hold this guy had over her for so many years. "Crestia, I—" I stopped, realizing that no words would truly capture what I wanted to say. I wanted to tell her that I understood, that I would help her if she needed it, but I knew that words could sometimes seem empty.
Instead, I just gave her a reassuring nod, trying to show her that I wasn't here to judge or pity her, only to listen.
"I went to the place he mentioned," Crestia continued, her voice low, as though dredging up each word cost her. Her red eyes were distant, lost in the memory. "When I arrived, he was there waiting for me, looking as smug as ever. He started talking about how dangerous this academy is—especially for us first years—but then, in this sickeningly sweet tone, he assured me that I didn't need to worry."
Her expression soured, a trace of bitterness slipping into her voice. "He said he'd protect me… but only if I paid him one gold coin a month."
I felt a jolt of shock, my fists tightening unconsciously. One gold coin? Isn't that the entire monthly allowance of a student here? My mind raced. This academy provides exactly one gold coin each month as a stipend for all students, enough to cover basic needs if spent wisely. And this guy—Alad—wanted to take it all from her, essentially leaving her with nothing.
Crestia's face grew even paler as she recalled that moment. "When he demanded it, I couldn't believe it. One gold coin would mean every single coin I had for the month would go to him. I wanted to say no, to refuse him, but… the memory of him tormenting me back in the village was too strong. I felt trapped."
I swallowed hard, anger rising in my chest, but I kept silent, letting her continue. I wanted to listen to every word, to understand exactly what she'd been through with this guy.
"While I was wrestling with myself over what to do, he noticed my hesitation and just gave this sly smile," she continued, her voice taking on a pained edge. "He said there was a way for me to earn more money, to even double or triple my allowance if I took his advice. He said that if I accepted, he'd even let me pay him on a later date—Saturday, instead of right away."
I clenched my jaw. He was clearly luring her into something bigger than just a gold coin payment. This so-called 'opportunity' sounded like a trap, and he knew exactly how to exploit her desperation. He was manipulating her every hesitation, every ounce of her fear, just like he'd done since they were children.
She closed her eyes for a moment, as though gathering herself. "I felt cornered. Part of me wanted to walk away, but another part of me—the part that didn't want to be a victim anymore—hoped that maybe, just maybe, this would be a way out. And with that, I… I agreed to his proposal."
Her voice was filled with regret, and she clenched her hands in her lap, visibly trembling.
"After I accepted his offer, he immediately dragged me to a place I'd never seen before, somewhere hidden from the usual academy routes," she said, her face twisting with a mixture of anger and shame. "He called it the 'Fighting Ground.' When we got there, I saw students everywhere, crowding around a large arena. There were matches happening between two people—'duels,' he called them."
As she described the scene, I could almost picture it: the roaring crowd, the dim lighting casting ominous shadows over the dirt arena, and the tense energy filling the air. The whole setup sounded like some underground spectacle designed for one thing only—gambling. And it was easy to see how someone could be lured in.
She took a shaky breath. "Alad urged me to place a bet, saying it was simple: just choose who I thought would win. If I was right, he promised I'd double my money instantly. It seemed too good to be true, but in that moment, I was… I don't know, desperate to believe him, to believe that I could finally do something on my own terms."
I could see where this was going, and my heart twisted with pity for her. She'd been caught in his snare, and he knew exactly how to play her.
"So, I took one silver coin and made my first bet," Crestia continued, her voice growing quieter, as if ashamed. "The match was brutal and violent, unlike anything I'd ever seen. And somehow, the fighter I chose won. Just like that, my silver coin doubled, and I was left with two silver coins."
Her face lit up for a brief moment as she remembered that feeling. "I was thrilled. With the extra money, I thought, 'Maybe I can do this, maybe I can pay him off and still have something left for myself.' For the first time in a long while, I felt a strange sense of control."
But her face darkened again, and I could tell that feeling hadn't lasted.
"That night, I returned to the dorms with hope for the first time. The next night, I went back to the arena and placed another bet. And again, I won. Over the next few days, I continued going back, placing bets, and by the end of the week, I had earned one gold coin and nine silver coins."
She smiled faintly, but it was a bitter smile, the kind that said she wished things had ended there. "At that point, I was almost done. I needed only one more silver coin to pay Alad his 'protection fee' and still have a full gold coin left for myself. I was so close."
She paused, her eyes turning haunted, as though what came next was a memory she'd tried hard to bury.
"So, on my final night there, I decided to place one last bet. Just one more, I told myself, and then I'd stop." She shook her head slowly, a look of deep regret in her eyes. "But that night… everything went wrong. Just as the fight was about to start, a mysterious masked man appeared on the stage, someone I'd never seen before."
"At first, everyone thought it would be an easy win because he seemed like an amateur," Crestia began, her voice wavering as she recounted the tense nights. "He didn't look strong at all, so nearly everyone—including me—bet on his opponent. But then, to everyone's shock, he won. It was almost laughable; it looked like he won on sheer, stupid luck."
Crestia gave a mirthless smile, her hands clasping and unclasping in her lap. The memory seemed to shift her from resentment to disbelief, like she still couldn't fully comprehend how this stranger had begun upending everything.
"After that first victory, no one thought he'd win again. They all thought it was just a fluke," she continued, a touch of bitterness creeping into her tone. "But somehow, he kept winning every duel he entered. People still thought it was all luck, and because of that, they kept betting against him."
I could picture the chaos—the crowd swelling with excitement and disbelief, each fight probably more unpredictable than the last. The sound of coins clinking as people hurried to place bets, the murmurs of excitement, and the tension of the matches would have filled the arena. Crestia was caught up in the allure of it all, focused on her own wagers, oblivious to the fact that this masked fighter's streak would soon leave her utterly empty-handed.
Her expression darkened, and she spoke more quietly, almost like she was confessing. "I… I didn't notice. I was so caught up in my own bets. The night blurred by so quickly, and before I realized it, I was out of money."
She paused, her hands dropping limply in her lap as though exhausted by her own words. Her eyes were glazed, looking at something far beyond the room we were in. I could see her remembering that final moment—the panic, the emptiness in her pockets. I could imagine her sitting there, the excitement of the crowd melting away as she stared down at nothing.
"And then, just as I felt that sinking dread," she went on, her voice barely a whisper, "Alad came up to me. He had that smug look on his face, like he'd known this would happen. And he reminded me of my debt, of the payment I was supposed to make on Saturday. He saw I was broke. He… he knew."
The tension in her voice cracked with resentment, and I felt a fierce anger burning within me. This wasn't just about her bad luck or poor choices; this was Alad manipulating her, knowing exactly how to corner her until she had nowhere to turn.
"So he made his move," she said, almost bitterly, as if realizing only now the full extent of his scheme. "He offered to lend me five gold coins, just enough to keep me going, but he said I'd have to return it by Saturday too."
She swallowed hard, and her face seemed to crumble with shame. "I didn't know what else to do. I felt trapped, cornered. I… I agreed. I thought I could turn it around, make enough to pay him back and finally get free of him." Her voice grew softer, like the words were being forced out against her will. "But my luck… it just vanished. Every bet I placed went wrong. One by one, my coins slipped away until… until I had only three silver coins left."
Her shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of her. "Then Saturday came," she murmured, and her voice was so faint, it was almost swallowed up by the silence of the room. "And… you know what happened after that."
She finished, her eyes glistening, and for a moment, the room was silent. I could see her biting her lip, trying desperately to keep her composure. But then a tear slipped down her cheek, followed by another, and before long, she was silently crying, her face hidden behind her trembling hands.
Watching her like that, something in me snapped. All this time, I'd thought she'd somehow gotten herself entangled with Alad's schemes through recklessness or naivety. But seeing her like this, knowing how he'd set everything up so meticulously to ensure her downfall… I could feel an anger like fire burning in my chest.
This wasn't her fault. She'd never been in debt to begin with—it was Alad who had cornered her and led her down this path with every intention of trapping her. Maybe he wanted her to owe him, to force her into some kind of allegiance. Or maybe it was worse than that. Maybe he wanted to make her his toy, something to use and control under the guise of her "debt." The thought sickened me.
Without thinking, I stood up, crossing the space between us in a few short strides. She noticed my movement, and for a split second, I saw a flicker of that familiar fear—the instinctive reaction she'd developed around anyone who got too close. But this time, she didn't pull away. There was a calmness in her gaze, a trust that hadn't been there before, as if she understood I wasn't here to hurt her.
Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out a handkerchief and held it out to her, wordlessly. She stared at it, surprise softening her tear-streaked face. Hesitantly, she reached up and took it from my hand. Her fingers brushed mine, just barely, but there was a fragility in that brief contact that made me realize how exhausted she must be, how desperately she'd been holding herself together.
"Thank you," she whispered, her voice trembling as she dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief. She seemed so small at that moment, like the weight of her story had finally come crashing down on her.