* * *
This situation was so merciless, so unbearably frigid, that the cold seeped into my very bones.
Over something this small?
This trivial?
Did I really do something that wrong?
What did I even do?
Disobey him by meeting with Gaspar?
I only saw him a few times!
That’s all it was! It’s not like I tried to persuade him or force a reconciliation!
Is that really why he’s this angry?
Why?
That doesn’t make any sense.
If he was going to be so secretive about it, wasn’t it only natural that I’d get curious?
He was the one who refused to say anything.
Is he upset that I didn’t tell him?
Well, he’s no different!
We’ve clashed over this issue so many times before, but we always managed to work it out.
So why not this time?
I don’t understand.
I can’t understand.
‘I should apologize.’
That much, I knew.
I needed to say sorry.
Even if I had to get on my knees, I had to apologize and calm him down.
I was the one who couldn’t afford to lose him.
He was angry because I didn’t trust him, so all I had to do was tell him I did, even if it was just empty words.
He’d probably look at me with disappointment, but eventually, he’d take back what he said—like always.
That’s what I should have done.
But I couldn’t say anything.
My lips wouldn’t move.
The crushing silence pressed down on me.
Because, deep down, I didn’t want to say it.
Because a thought had crept into my mind—
“So this is all I ever meant to him.”
And once I realized that, I couldn’t say a single word.
I had always known.
The hero only stayed with me because I wanted to follow him.
Because I begged him to let me.
That was all.
So whenever he got angry, he left me behind.
Even though he promised to stay, that was always secondary.
I knew that.
I understood.
Of course, his feelings mattered more than someone like me.
I knew that.
But even so, accepting the truth hurt more than I expected.
Because my time with him—
‘Because I was truly happy when I was with him.’
‘Then what were all those moments we spent together?’
The hero—no, my hero, Zerbin Batista.
My desire to be close to Batista had grown so much that I even went back to calling him “the hero,” fearing I wouldn’t be able to handle my own feelings.
But I guess it was never the same for him.
He could cut me off so easily, as if all the time we spent together had meant nothing.
As if it had been worthless enough to throw away with a single sentence.
That thought was unbearable.
It didn’t make sense.
I hated Batista.
I was furious at the hero.
Then why did you treat me so kindly?
Why did you hold me at night when I had nightmares?
Even when I told you I was fine, why did you comfort me and insist on training with me?
Why did you make me think you wanted to stay by my side?
And now, just because I spent time with someone you didn’t like, you’re throwing me away?
How could you be so cruel?
‘Did I really do something so unforgivable?’
It’s not like I completely don’t trust you.
I even told you—I said I’d believe anything you said.
The truth is, it’s not you I can’t trust.
It’s me.
I can’t believe that I am someone you would ever accept.
I don’t have enough faith in myself.
Yes, this is my fault for being pathetic.
“…I told you a lot.”
But he was just as much to blame for not reassuring me.
“I’ve told you everything about me—so much that you’re probably sick of it. Who I’m close with, what I like, what my family is like.”
I had wanted to get closer to Batista.
I kept talking in hopes of easing the tension between us.
I even embarrassed myself countless times, but I still kept talking.
But Batista?
Had he ever shared anything about himself?
Had he ever told me anything before I had to pry it out of him?
“How am I supposed to share something so personal with someone who never shares anything about himself?”
I knew this wasn’t the time for this. I knew saying something like this was a mistake.
Batista was waiting, as if giving me one last chance to say whatever I needed to.
What I should have done was beg him to stay.
I should have promised to fix whatever I did wrong, grabbed onto his legs if I had to.
But I had already crossed the line.
The words that left my mouth weren’t a plea.
They were a complaint.
I was too angry.
Too hurt.
I didn’t even think about borrowing anything.
The fact that Batista was trying to cut me off so decisively—it hurt too much.
‘He’s saying he doesn’t need me…’
So, everything I gave him was unnecessary too.
The meals I spent days practicing to perfect just for him, finally succeeding today.
The ring I bought because it reminded me of him.
Ah, how pathetic. I can’t stand myself for dwelling on this.
I have a mission. If I give up like this, what happens to humanity?
Will they all be massacred by the Demon King again because Batista still hasn’t realized what love is?
Will everyone die because of me?
My body goes cold.
The fear of ruining everything.
That fear has always been what drove me.
But I’ve had enough.
Is this really all my fault?
I’m not even a hero—if someone like me wasn’t meant to return, then God should’ve stopped me.
If the door had been blocked for just a moment, none of this would have happened.
Humanity isn’t being destroyed because of me.
It’s because of God.
Because God doesn’t love them enough.
‘I’m tired. I can’t do this anymore.’
And it’s not like Batista tells me he trusts me anymore.
Back when we were strangers, he said he believed in me.
But once we got close, all I got was, “Even if I tell you, you won’t believe it.”
Then what’s the point of being together?
If being by his side only makes things worse, it’s better to leave.
I got up from the table.
The reason I was saved—the reason I followed him—was because he took me in when I was alone and useless and told me he believed in me.
Because he made me feel needed.
If I’m not needed anymore, if I’m worthless—
Then I’m done too.
“I enjoyed our time together.”
I said my goodbye.
“Take care.”
For the first time, I turned my back on him first.
At least I managed to say a proper goodbye.
At least I was able to hold back my tears until I turned away.
At least I didn’t show him how badly I wanted to stay.
Of course, Batista didn’t stop me.
I trained. I trained alone for a long time.
I pushed my body until I was exhausted and on the verge of collapse.
It was the only way I’d be able to sleep.
I slept. I had nightmares and woke up.
I slept again.
I had more nightmares and woke up.
I kept my eyes closed and refused to wake.
I fell asleep again.
Again, again, again…
Morning came.
‘I’m so tired.’
Insomnia, starting the very night we parted.
Ridiculous.
We’ve only been apart for a few hours—cut me some slack.
My head was pounding from lack of sleep.
If this keeps up, I’ll go insane and end up throwing a tantrum, begging him to just hold me so I can sleep.
‘…’
I hope Batista is uncomfortable too.
I hope he finds it inconvenient without me.
I hope he’s grown so used to my chatter that he feels lonely now that I’m gone.
I hope he finds it odd having to prepare his own meals because I’m no longer there to do it for him.
But he probably won’t.
If anything, he’s probably relieved to be alone again.
‘You idiot.’
I flopped onto the bed. I really am an idiot. Why did I act all serious and say goodbye like that?
I should’ve just refused to accept it.
Then at least, if I showed up again, it wouldn’t seem so strange.
But after saying “take care,” it’d be ridiculous to go back the next day and say, “Actually, forget that.”
‘Where is he?’
Is he still at the temple?
Is there a chance—just a small chance—that he’s waiting for me to come back, thinking I might?
It’s a stupid hope.
* * *
