"Why are you here?" she asked, her voice wavering between pity and curiosity.
"Because I killed your uncle."
She blinked. "Really?"
"Yes."
"Oh…"
Look at that—she doesn't believe me. Not entirely, at least. Can't blame her. Even I wouldn't, if I were in her place.
"Uncle was a good person," she murmured, almost to herself. "But he hasn't come back yet."
A good person? Maybe—to her. But that same man was hitting my sister.
"He hits," she admitted, "but he's a good person."
I tilted my head. "Does he hit for a good reason?"
She hesitated. "No…"
"Then that means he's a bad person, doesn't it?"
"But… he gives me gifts, too."
"Does he hit you?"
She shook her head.
"But he hits others, right? So is he a good person just because he hurts others and doesn't hurt you?"
Silence. She was struggling, the gears in her head turning, trying to reconcile the contradictions.
"Will he come back?" she asked, barely above a whisper.
"If he's really a good person, maybe God will send him back."
Her eyes brightened. "God? You believe in one?"
Ah, here we go. The infamous divine selection. In the visual novel, this was where the protagonist had to choose which god to follow. A pivotal moment. Some allies. Some enemies. A path carved in stone.
But me? I didn't care. I didn't even remember their names.
"I don't believe in God."
She gasped, like I had just spat in the face of the heavens. "What? How come? Everybody believes in one!"
"I don't. If there was a god, he wouldn't have let me get beaten."
"But you killed Uncle, so you got punished," she countered, as if justice was that simple.
I stared at her.
"Isn't this too much?"
"Yes…" she looked down.
Haha. Look at her, saying this much is too much. How would she react if she knew? If she found out I butchered her uncle's face until he was unrecognizable?
"I want to get out…"
She glanced at me, her expression unreadable. Then, without another word, she stood up, back straight. "I won't let them hit you."
Ohh, look at her. Like she could do anything. No way they'd listen to a child like he—
…
"Oh, okay, ma'am. We'll leave."
The guards turned away. And left.
They left?
She smirked and glanced back at me. "I'm the queen."
"No, you're not."
She pouted. "Yes, I am!"
"No, you're a child. A child can't be the queen."
She looked mad. Well, not my problem. My eyelids felt heavy, my body ached. For the first time in what felt like forever, I could finally rest.
"Hey, are you sleeping?"
"Yes, I am. Don't disturb me."
"I wanna play."
"I don't."
"Aww, pleaaase?"
"What could we even play?"
Her ears perked up. "Catch and catch!"
"I can't run. Look at my legs."
The words left my mouth before I could even think, but the truth was laid bare. My legs were ruined. Flesh torn. My back and thighs red from the daily lashes.
Her face twisted. Then, without hesitation, she ran outside.
Now's my chance.
The door was wide open. Perfect time to escape. I pushed myself up, every muscle screaming in protest, and took a step forward—
But before I could move, a shadow blocked the doorway.
Victor.
"Escaping, are we?" His voice was low, unimpressed.
I wasn't planning to resort to this. But this was my best—and last—ditch move.
I lunged, grabbing his leg.
"P-PLEASE!" I screamed. "I'M SORRY! IT HURTS SO MUCH—I DON'T LIKE THIS—I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!"
The tears were real. I had held them back for so long.
Victor flinched. His foot tried to move, but I clung on, sobbing.
"PLEASE, DON'T HURT ME! I PROMISE I'LL NEVER DO IT AGAIN!"
His breath hitched. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple.
It's working. Keep going.
A sudden rush of footsteps. Dahlia.
She froze in the doorway. Her bright eyes widened, staring at me—at the tears streaming down my face.
And just like that, her expression crumbled.
She rushed forward, wrapping her arms around me. She was taller, and the hug nearly crushed me, but I didn't move.
Then she turned to Victor, tears brimming in her eyes.
"PAPA, DON'T HURT HIM!" Her voice cracked. "HE'S MY FRIEND!"
Friend?
Victor looked genuinely confused.
"WHY DID YOU MAKE HIM CRY?!"
Her small fists clenched. Her tiny shoulders trembled.
Even a grown adult—hell, even a monster—would hesitate at a sight like this.
Victor rubbed his forehead, his expression darkening. "That is no child. He's a murderer. He killed your uncle—my brother—and I didn't even hit him."
"Yes, he did."
Dahlia's voice was sharp, furious.
"HE SAYS YOU DID!"
"I DIDN'T!" Victor's voice rose in frustration. "I DIDN'T EVEN TOUCH HIM!"
I shrugged. "Nuh, he actually did hit me. Don't trust him."
She turned back to her father, her face scrunched up in doubt.
Haha, this is like children arguing.
Victor let out a frustrated sigh, then turned to Dahlia. "FINE. I WON'T HIT HIM."
She beamed turning to me. "See? I told you—I'm the queen!"
I don't think she actually knows what a queen is. But whatever, I'll stay silent on that.
Victor sighed again, clearly weak to his daughter. "But he cannot be your friend."
"Why?" Dahlia's hostility towards her father had vanished, replaced with confusion.
"Because he has a family to get back to," he replied.
She turned to me. "You do?"
I nodded. It was the easiest way out of here. If he thought I had a family waiting for me, he'd let me go. So, yeah—thanks, Dahlia. You were amazing, even if we were only friends for a short time. Don't worry, I'll make sure you don't end up in a bad route. But that's for later.
Her shoulders dropped. She looked sad, but then she hugged me tightly. "If you ever need anything, I'll always help you. Come back here anytime."
I was pretty sure I wouldn't. But still, I patted her head. "Thanks, Dahlia."
I smiled. A real one. Maybe because I was relieved. Getting whipped was painful. Never in my life will I develop a fetish for that.
It didn't take long for them to get me decent clothes and prepare for my departure. That's when I found out—apparently, I had been here for almost nine months.
What?
It felt like a short time. But then I learned I had been unconscious for a couple of those months. Bastards kept hitting me to wake me up, but I didn't.
Oh. That must have been why they were freaking out that day. I thought I had only been asleep for one day.
Maybe it had something to do with the development of my Clarion. Or maybe something else. Either way, the best part?
I was getting out of here.
"You can stop crying now, Dahlia."
She clung to me, tears in her eyes, hugging me as the carriage was prepared. Slowly, she let me go. "I promise I'll keep you safe. So don't leave."
I looked at her.
"Hey, Dahlia."
She sniffled and looked up.
"Let's meet again in the future. And instead of trying to be a queen, become a Mancer. Then you can protect me too, right?"
She blinked. Then, suddenly, she nodded furiously.
"Okay! I'll definitely protect you! You're my first friend, after all!"
She smiled.
I smiled back.
Yeah, I was her first friend.
In the visual novel, Dahlia never made any friends—not even in the academy. Kinda weird, honestly.
Then again… I didn't make new friends for a long time in my old life either. I just had a small group. And Sia…
I shook the thought away as I stepped into the carriage.
The wheels creaked, the horses stirred, and the carriage lurched forward.
I was finally leaving this hellhole.
The place where I had been beaten, broken—and tortured.
The place where I had made a friend.