I remained silent as Crestia pulled herself together, her sobs gradually fading into soft, uneven breaths. Her shoulders, once hunched and trembling, finally relaxed, and she lifted her face, her eyes still rimmed with faint redness but now carrying a glint of determination. I watched her, waiting, giving her the space to recover.
After a few long moments, Crestia's breathing steadied, and the tear-streaked vulnerability faded, replaced by a familiar sharpness in her gaze. The Crestia I knew was slowly returning, the steely, guarded girl who shielded herself behind a mask of indifference. Her usual attitude reappeared, like armor sliding back into place. I was about to suggest we slip out of here before Alad and Werk awoke, but she spoke first, her tone edged with that familiar defiance.
"I answered your question," she said, her voice carrying that note of challenge. "Now it's your turn to answer mine."
Her words caught me by surprise, and despite myself, I smiled. There she was, Crestia in all her stubborn, unyielding spirit, as if her recent vulnerability had never surfaced. But I could see traces of a different kind of strength now—a quieter, raw courage in the way she held her gaze steady, the slight redness around her eyes betraying that she had let her guard down.
She noticed my smile, and to my surprise, a faint blush crept across her cheeks. Her lips tightened as though she were fighting the embarrassment rising within her. Crestia, embarrassed? It was a rare sight, one I doubted many had seen. Maybe it was the realization that I'd glimpsed a part of her that few ever saw.
"Okay," I said softly, nodding in encouragement. "Ask me anything, and I'll answer."
For a moment, her expression shifted. She looked almost lost, like she was grappling with her own words, her gaze flitting between me and the floor as if she were searching for the right way to phrase whatever was on her mind. After a long pause, she took a deep breath, her eyes finally meeting mine.
"Why?" she whispered, her voice so quiet I barely caught it. But there was a weight in that single word, a rawness that made it feel almost fragile.
I tilted my head slightly, unsure of what she meant. "Hmm?" I asked, prompting her to clarify.
"Why did you save me?" Her voice was louder this time, steady, though still carrying the same vulnerability. "There's… there's no reason for you to have done it. You wouldn't gain anything from saving me, and you even put yourself in danger. So… why?" Her words faltered slightly, like she'd been carrying this question for a while and was only now finding the courage to voice it.
For a moment, I simply looked at her, considering how to respond. It was clear from the way her gaze bore into me, fierce and almost demanding, that this question wasn't just a fleeting curiosity. It was something deeper, something that had been gnawing at her since earlier. She wanted an answer, maybe even needed one.
I offered a reassuring smile, hoping to ease the tension. "There are two reasons why I saved you," I said simply, watching her reaction.
Her eyes widened slightly. "Two?" she repeated, the disbelief evident in her tone.
"Yes," I replied, the smile lingering on my lips. "The first is exactly what I told Alad earlier—I can't just stand by and ignore someone in need."
She looked skeptical, her eyebrows drawing together. It was clear she didn't quite believe the simplicity of my words.
"And… the second?" she asked, her voice tinged with doubt.
I took a breath, feeling the weight of the answer settle over me. This was a part of my past I rarely shared, but here, with her looking at me with that mixture of defiance and vulnerability, it felt right to be honest. "The second reason," I said, my voice softer now, "is that I don't want to have any more regrets."
She stared at me, confusion flickering in her eyes. "Regrets?" she echoed.
I nodded, the memories stirring within me, bringing with them a familiar pang of sorrow and frustration. "Yes," I replied, looking down for a moment as I gathered my thoughts. "There are a lot of things I regret in my life. Things I wish I'd done differently. In fact… I was also a victim of bullying in the past. I know what it's like to be cornered, to feel powerless. Back then, I did nothing. I just… accepted it. I regret that."
Her expression softened, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of understanding in her eyes. She seemed to be seeing me in a new light, a realization dawning on her that connected us in a way neither of us had expected.
"You… you were a victim too?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. The sharpness in her tone was gone, replaced by something gentler, almost empathetic.
"Yes," I admitted, feeling a strange sense of relief in sharing this part of myself. "I was bullied, and it left scars I still carry. But the thing I regret most is that I did nothing about it. I was too afraid, too worried about the consequences, and I just… let it happen."
The silence that followed was heavy, but not uncomfortable. It was as if my confession had bridged some invisible gap between us, a mutual understanding that didn't need words. Crestia's gaze softened, the hostility and suspicion that usually filled her eyes replaced by something else—something more vulnerable, more human.
"And that's why you saved me," she murmured, almost to herself, as though piecing together a puzzle. "Because… you didn't want to feel that regret again."
I nodded, feeling a strange, quiet resolve settle over me. "Yes," I replied. "I knew that if I didn't help you, if I just stood by and let things unfold… I'd regret it. I'd regret not doing anything, just like I did back then."
A profound silence stretched between us, neither of us speaking, both of us lost in our thoughts. I could see in her expression that my words had struck a chord, perhaps awakening something she hadn't wanted to confront. Her gaze drifted to the floor, her fingers absently toying with the edge of my handkerchief, as though my words were slowly sinking in.
I allowed her a moment to absorb everything. Then, sensing the weight of our conversation had settled, I decided it was time to break the quiet. "I didn't help you because I wanted anything in return," I added, my voice gentle but firm. "I didn't do it with any ulterior motives. So you don't need to worry about paying me back or anything like that."
She looked up, meeting my eyes, and for a brief moment, I saw a softness there, a glimpse of gratitude unspoken. She gave a slight nod, understanding.
I cleared my throat, glancing around the place. The faint sounds of Alad and Werk's breathing drifted from the other side, a reminder that we weren't safe here. "We should go now, before Alad and Werk wake up," I suggested quietly, hoping she'd agree.
After a moment, she nodded, her resolve returning. "Yes, let's go," she whispered, and together, we prepared to leave the place.
We slipped quietly out of the back of the fourth-year students' building, leaving Alad and Werk behind in the cold, unconscious and defeated. The air was sharp and cool, hinting at an incoming evening, with the orange glow of the setting sun casting long shadows along the empty path. Our footsteps echoed softly as we walked away, each step taking us further from the dangers of that place and closer to some semblance of safety.
The silence between us was comfortable at first, filled with the unspoken relief of having escaped. But just as I started to relax, a loud growling noise broke the stillness, and I glanced over at Crestia, raising an eyebrow in amusement.
Her cheeks flushed a shade of pink, her gaze darting away as she attempted to maintain her usual stoic expression. It would've been easy to pretend I hadn't heard it, but her embarrassment was too endearing to ignore.
I suddenly remembered that she hadn't eaten anything since this morning. Chris had mentioned earlier that she had "some business to take care of," which likely meant she'd been with Alad all day. No wonder she hadn't had a chance to eat. I felt a pang of sympathy, realizing how long she must have gone without food while dealing with him.
"Do you want to go to the cafeteria?" I asked, keeping my tone casual as if her rumbling stomach hadn't been the prompt.
She hesitated, her gaze dropping to the ground. "I... I don't have any money," she admitted, the blush on her cheeks deepening. It was clear this admission embarrassed her, and I could see the tension in her shoulders as she braced for my response.
"Don't worry about that," I replied with a reassuring smile. "I'll pay for you. Just eat whatever you want."
She shook her head, and I could see her pride battling with her hunger. "No, I can't accept that," she stammered, looking away. "You've already done so much—"
But just as she spoke, her stomach betrayed her once again, growling even louder this time. Her cheeks turned an even brighter shade of red, and her shoulders slumped in defeat.
She exhaled, the fight leaving her. "I'll accept it. Thank you… very much," she said softly, her tone holding a mix of gratitude and reluctance.
I couldn't help but smile at her response. She was always so guarded, so strong-willed, but moments like these reminded me there was a softer side to her beneath the tough exterior.
With our decision made, we turned our steps toward the cafeteria. The sun was almost down now, casting a warm glow over the campus grounds. The shadows lengthened around us, and I could see students here and there making their way back to the dorms or to their evening classes. We walked in silence, but the quiet between us felt different now, almost… companionable.
As we neared the cafeteria, a thought crossed my mind, and I turned to her, my expression turning serious.
"Ah! About Alad," I began, choosing my words carefully. "From now on, please let me know if he tries to do anything to you. I mean it—don't keep it to yourself. And try to stay with Chris, Lana, or Lucia as much as you can. That way, Alad won't have a chance to reach out to you. He's sneaky, working in the shadows, so he won't try anything that could expose him."
She stopped in her tracks, looking up at me with a troubled expression. Her eyes, filled with a mixture of worry and frustration, met mine. I could tell she wanted to say something, but it took her a moment to gather her thoughts.
"Please," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper but laced with determination, "don't involve yourself in this anymore. You're an outsider, and… I can't bear the thought of something happening to you because of me."
Her words caught me off guard, and for a moment, I was silent. I hadn't expected this from her—the concern, the protective tone. She looked down, biting her lip as if she hadn't meant to reveal that much. But the vulnerability was there, raw and unmistakable.
I took a step closer, holding her gaze. "Even if you say that, I'm no longer an outsider in this," I replied quietly. "Not after what happened today. I know that Alad isn't just going to let this go. He'll come after me too, so it makes sense for us to look out for each other. Why not team up? Like they say, two is better than one."
But she shook her head, her expression growing more resolute. "No," she replied, her voice firm. "I'll only be a hindrance to you. I don't even have the power to protect myself, let alone anyone else. If we team up… I'll just be a burden, someone you'll have to protect."
Her words were spoken with a calm certainty, but I could sense the pain behind them. This wasn't just a refusal—it was a confession. Crestia had always acted strong, confident, and self-reliant, but now, I was beginning to see the doubts and fears she hid beneath that front.
"You're not a burden," I said softly, taking another step closer. "And you don't need to be able to protect me. That's not what this is about."
"Then let me protect you," I said, my voice soft but steady.
Crestia looked at me, her eyes widening in surprise. "Huh? What… what are you saying?" Her tone was laced with confusion, as though the very idea of someone offering to protect her was something she hadn't ever considered—at least, not from me.
I held her gaze, repeating my words with a bit more conviction. "I said, let me protect you."
Her expression shifted, her brows furrowing as she processed what I'd just said. She looked like she was about to dismiss it, but something made her hesitate. "Why? Why would you go to such lengths just to protect me?" she asked, crossing her arms defensively. There was a spark of defiance in her eyes, as if she didn't want to allow herself to be vulnerable, not even for a second. "If you don't give a valid reason, I won't accept it."
I took a deep breath, gathering my thoughts. "There are two reasons why I'd do it," I began, holding her gaze steadily. "First… like I said before, I don't want to do anything that I'll regret later on."
Her eyes softened slightly at my words, but she quickly masked it, waiting for more.
"And the second reason," I continued, watching her reaction carefully, "is because… well, you're my childhood friend's friend. That's all."
She blinked, the guarded look on her face breaking into one of pure disbelief. "Huh? Are you kidding me? You'd risk your life just to protect your childhood friend's friend?" Her tone was sharp, almost incredulous.
I met her gaze, unflinching. "Yes, because I know she'd be sad if something happened to you."
For a moment, her expression wavered, as if the weight of my words was sinking in. But then she clenched her fists and straightened up, refusing to let herself be swayed so easily.
"Ah, if you're still not satisfied," I added, sensing her hesitation, "then let me give you a third reason."
Her eyes flickered with surprise. "A third reason?" she repeated, her voice barely a whisper.
I nodded, feeling my own heart pounding as I prepared to say what I'd been holding back. "Yeah… the third reason is because… I don't want to see you crying again."
Her face reddened, her eyes widening in shock. "Wha-what? What are you saying?" she stammered, glancing away as if my words had struck something deep within her.
"Huh?" I replied, surprised by her reaction. "I said that I don't want to see you crying—"
"Stop!" she interrupted, her cheeks flushed, her voice almost a shout. "I heard it already, so don't say it again!"
The embarrassment on her face was impossible to miss, and I felt a grin tugging at the corners of my mouth. She looked away, crossing her arms again and huffing softly. "Idiot," she muttered under her breath, but her voice was so soft, I almost missed it.
An amused chuckle escaped me. "Why am I being called an idiot in this situation?"
She didn't respond immediately, instead shifting her gaze to the ground, where her foot kicked at a loose pebble. Finally, she looked up, her face still flushed but her eyes determined.
"Fine," she said, her voice steady. "Then let me say this to you: for now, I'll ask for your help if Alad ever makes a move again. But remember this—I'll become stronger, much stronger than you." She looked at me, her gaze fierce. "So when that time comes, I'll repay you. I'll be the one who helps you and saves you when you're in trouble. So until that time comes… I'll rely on you. Are you fine with that?"
I felt a surge of warmth at her words, a genuine smile spreading across my face. "Yeah," I replied, meeting her gaze with a nod. "Looking forward to it, Crestia."
She turned away, but not before I caught a glimpse of a faint, shy smile on her face. It was fleeting, but it was there. She folded her arms, her back straight, and started walking ahead of me, her pace picking up slightly as if trying to hide her embarrassment.
"Hmph, idiot," she muttered again, her voice barely audible over her quickened footsteps.
I watched her walk ahead, feeling a strange mix of amusement and affection. The tough exterior, the way she kept her emotions under lock and key… it was something I'd come to admire about her, even if it sometimes made her harder to read.
A quiet thought lingered in the back of my mind, and I whispered it to myself, almost as if saying it aloud would make it too real. "You don't need to repay me or anything like that," I murmured. "You just don't know it, but you're the one who helped me conquer my trauma. So what I'm doing now… it's just me repaying you."
"Huh?" Her voice broke through my thoughts, and I looked up, startled to see her glancing back over her shoulder. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, as if she'd overheard part of what I'd said. "Did you say something?"
I quickly shook my head, feeling a bit flustered. "No, I didn't say anything," I replied, trying to keep my tone casual. But she looked at me with a raised eyebrow, clearly unconvinced.
"Fine, but hurry up," she called back, picking up her pace even more. Her footsteps echoed down the path as she walked ahead, her determined stride making it clear she wasn't about to wait for me.
A grin spread across my face as I started to jog to catch up with her. "Hey, don't walk so fast!" I called, my voice echoing into the quiet evening air.
She glanced back at me, a slight smirk on her lips. "Then stop being so slow, idiot," she retorted, though there was a playful note in her voice. She quickened her pace again, and I couldn't help but laugh as I picked up my own speed, falling into step beside her.
The sun had dipped lower now, casting a warm, golden light over everything. For a moment, everything felt lighter, simpler, as if all the troubles we'd faced earlier in the day had faded into the background.
As we walked, I felt a strange but undeniable sense of peace, knowing that, even if just for now, we were in this together.