Later that day, I realized the news that I had collapsed in the forest had spread throughout the village.
Well, not a surprise.
"Val, I heard you collapsed the other day. But you seemed okay now?"
While chopping trees into firewood in the backyard to quell the blazing crisis inside, I heard a familiar voice.
It was soft, laced with concern, but it carried a weight that made my chest tighten.
Haiz, did I annoy her?
I sighed and put down the axe and sat on a wooden stump. "Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry for bothering you."
Alice, the frontier noble who was also my childhood friend, had come to visit. She sat beside me, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her posture as perfect as ever.
"Visiting a friend who fainted while trying to protect the village was the least I could do." She smiles.
Her soft, golden hair framed her face like a halo, and her blue eyes were as bright and clear as the summer sky. She was beautiful, undeniably so—like a porcelain doll come to life.
And yet, as I looked at her, a bitter thought crept into my mind.
She would become the protagonist of an Otome game.
The words left a sour taste in my mouth. Game. As if all of this—my life, her life, the people I cared about—was nothing more than a story, a series of scripted events meant to entertain someone else.
I hated it.
Even with the other half memory, I still despite it. No, if I had to say, it made it worse.
The term felt like a cruel joke, a way of reducing everything I'd lived, everything I'd fought for, to something meaningless. My loved ones weren't characters. I wasn't a character.
Not to mention how I could never be with her in the end.
I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms as I forced the thought away. Alice was still watching me, her expression soft but tinged with worry.
"Val?" she asked again, her voice pulling me back to the present.
I exhaled slowly, loosening my fists. "I'm fine," I said, offering her a faint smile. "Just… tired, that's all."
Her eyes searched mine, as if she didn't quite believe me. But she didn't press further. Instead, she reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against my sleeve.
"If there's anything you need, just tell me," she said softly. "You don't have to keep everything bottled up, you know."
Her words were simple, but they carried a warmth that eased some of the tension in my chest.
As I looked at her, the ribbon in her hair catching the light once more, I felt a pang of something I couldn't quite name.
This was Alice. Not a protagonist. Not a character. Just Alice.
And I wasn't going to let anyone—or anything—reduce her to anything less.
But, I couldn't help but ask.
"Alice," I began, my voice quieter than I intended, "if one day you realized that you were just… a character, with a fate already scripted out for you, how would you react?"
The words hung in the air between us, heavier than I expected. I hadn't planned to ask her that. But the question had clawed its way out of me, part curiosity, part desperation to make sense of the disorienting storm in my own head.
She blinked, her golden lashes fluttering as she tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable. For a moment, the sunlight streaming through the window caught in her hair, turning it into a halo of soft gold.
"A character?" she repeated, her voice light, almost playful, but there was a flicker of something in her blue eyes—confusion, maybe, or unease. "That's a strange question, Val."
I leaned back slightly, my fingers curling into the fabric of my trousers. "Just… imagine it," I said, staring past her, at the ribbon tied neatly in her hair. The one I had made. "If you found out your choices weren't your own. That everything you've done, everything you'll ever do, was already decided for you. How would you feel?"
The air seemed quieter now, the faint hum of life fading into the background. Alice didn't answer right away. Instead, she studied me, her gaze searching, as if trying to see past the surface of my words and into the thoughts I was too afraid to voice.
"Hmm…" she murmured, her fingers brushing absently against the ribbon. "I suppose… I'd feel trapped. Like my life wasn't really mine."
Her voice was calm, thoughtful, but there was a faint crease between her brows, a shadow of doubt. "But," she added, her lips curving into a small, almost wistful smile, "I think I'd still try to live the way I wanted. Even if it was all scripted, I'd want to make the most of it. To find meaning in it, somehow."
Her words hit me harder than I expected.
I stared at her, my chest tightening. How could she say that so easily? How could she accept the idea of her life being nothing more than a story, a series of predetermined events?
But then, that was Alice. Always stronger than she seemed, always able to find light in the darkest corners.
And yet, her answer didn't ease the weight in my chest. If anything, it made it worse.
Because I wasn't like her.
I couldn't just accept it. I couldn't reduce her—or myself—to a character in someone else's story.
And it wasn't something I could ever share with her—not now, not ever.
The path I was meant to take was clear, etched into the fabric of this world like a cruel inevitability. It would lead to my death, a sacrifice demanded of me for the greater good. It all lay out before me, the scripted fate that tied me to this role, this purpose.
But what if I dared to stray from that path? What if I defied the script, twisted the threads of fate into something else entirely?
I swallowed hard, the weight of the decision pressing down on me like a vice. Should I follow the script, doing what was expected of me, sacrificing myself for the greater good? Or should I take the risk, fight against the tide, and try to save myself—even if the chance was slim, even if the consequences could be catastrophic?
The question gnawed at me, a cruel paradox with no easy answer.
But if it was unavoidable, my happiness and lives wasn't the highest priority.
"Huh, seeing you this uncertain is… weird."
Alice's voice broke through my spiraling thoughts, light and teasing, but there was a pout on her lips as she studied my grim expression. Her brows knitted together, just slightly, like she was trying to figure out how to pull me out of whatever dark place I'd wandered into.
Before I could respond, she tilted her head and smiled—a bright, disarming one that made the room feel just a little warmer.
"Here," she said, her voice softening as she opened her arms wide. "Have a hug."
Her words were so simple, so casual, but they hit me like a wave. I blinked at her, momentarily stunned.
Alice, with her golden hair and sky-blue eyes, sat there with her arms outstretched, her smile so genuine it almost hurt to look at. She wasn't asking. She wasn't waiting for permission. She was offering herself, her warmth, her light, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
I hesitated.
A hug. It seemed so small, so insignificant, and yet… it wasn't. Not to me.
"Come on," she said, her voice playful but patient. "You look like you need it."
I swallowed hard, the weight in my chest pressing heavier. For a moment, I thought about refusing, about brushing it off with some excuse. But the look in her eyes stopped me. There was no pity there, no judgment—just an unwavering kindness that made it impossible to turn away.
Slowly, almost reluctantly, I leaned forward, letting her arms wrap around me.
And the moment she did, something inside me cracked. Her embrace was warm, steady, and grounding. She held me tightly, like she was trying to shield me from whatever storm was raging inside.
"I know that there's something you couldn't say," she murmured softly. "And it's okay."
It okay? Huh… I guess so.
I didn't say anything. I couldn't.
Because for now, in her arms, the weight of my choices, my fate, the impossible decisions ahead—they didn't disappear, but they felt just a little lighter.
And for a fleeting moment, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, I didn't have to face it all alone.
No.
I didn't have to face it alone.
Who was I to think that what I did was always right? Who was I to shoulder this burden alone, to decide the course of this world as if I were its sole judge?
Who was I to look down on this world, to believe that sacrifice was inevitable, that it was the only way forward?
Alice's warmth, her unwavering kindness, her belief in me—those things weren't just fleeting comforts. They were a reminder. A reminder that there was more to this than cold, calculated choices.
No, I didn't have to follow the script. I didn't have to resign myself to this grim inevitability.
I just had to do what was necessary.
Not what the script demanded. Not what fate dictated.
The right choice.
Alice's arms tightened around me, as if she could sense the shift in my resolve, even without words. Her warmth anchored me, grounding me in a way I hadn't realized I needed.
I let out a slow breath, my fingers curling slightly into the fabric of her clothes, holding onto her like she was the only thing keeping me from crumbling.
"Thank you, Alice," I murmured.
She pulled back just enough to look at me, her expression soft and full of that unshakable kindness that always seemed to radiate from her.
"No need to thank me," she said, her smile growing as she tapped a finger lightly against my forehead. "We're best friends, after all, right?"
Yeah… best friends.
For now.
I couldn't help the faint smirk that tugged at my lips as I looked at her, still holding onto that bright, genuine smile of hers… someday, I would rise through the ranks, conquer whatever fate threw at me, and make her my wife.
The thought struck me with such certainty that I almost laughed. It was ridiculous, wasn't it? Here I was, drowning in the weight of impossible choices, and yet, in this moment, I found myself clinging to a dream that felt so far away.
But it wasn't impossible. Not if I survived. Not if I fought hard enough.
Alice tilted her head, her brows furrowing slightly as she studied me. "What's with that look? Did I say something weird?"
I shook my head quickly, the smirk fading into a softer smile. "No, nothing. Just… thinking about the future."
Her expression brightened, her curiosity piqued. "Oh? What kind of future?"
"Secret."