* * *

The hero came to his own conclusion before I could even respond, leaving me utterly speechless.

I should’ve just blurted out something—anything!

“That’s… that’s not what I meant.”

“Not what you meant?”

The hero tilted his head slightly, his sharp gray eyes meeting mine.

And in that moment, I had the audacity to think: his eyes look hurt.

Those usually cold, detached eyes of his were trembling slightly.

I froze completely.

“Don’t do pointless things.”

It’s not pointless.

“It’s revolting.”

It’s really not…

I just wanted to save the world.

I just wanted to teach you about love…

“Zerbin!”

I stumbled after him as he turned to leave, panic overtaking me.

I had no other thought except that I had to do something.

The air around him felt razor-sharp, slicing through my nerves with every step I took closer.

I was terrified.

But I was more terrified of being branded as someone revolting in his eyes.

I forced myself to suppress the fear.

“I’m sorry. I… I was wrong.”

I apologized again, but his expression was shockingly devoid of any emotion.

The pain I thought I’d seen in his eyes earlier now seemed like a lie, as if he felt nothing at all.

It was as though he’d completely given up on me.

Something in my chest twisted painfully.

It wasn’t anger, because I knew I was at fault. It was just… heartbreaking.

‘You don’t know anything.’

You don’t know how hard I’ve been trying, how much I’ve struggled to help you, how desperately I’ve fought to understand you… you don’t know any of it.

Shouldn’t I get something in return for all this effort?

Why am I still left staring into those cold, empty eyes of yours, feeling miserable?

Was the tiny gap I thought I’d managed to bridge between us really so insignificant that it could disappear over one misunderstanding?

Don’t I deserve at least one chance to explain myself?

And so, I crossed the line.

“Zerbin…! Please, just let me—”

“Let go.”

I overstepped, grabbing his arm without thinking.

The punishment came swiftly.

I was thrown into the air, my body weightless for a moment before slamming into a tree and collapsing onto the ground.

I couldn’t even scream from the impact.

“Ra-Raul!”

Twice now.

Twice I’d been flung away like this.

It wasn’t just rejection—it was complete and utter dismissal.

This time, his rage was palpable, pressing down on me like a physical force.

Was this the end?

“Are you okay?”

Was everything I’d built between us crumbling to dust?

“You idiot!”

Had I lost my chance entirely?

“Your leg’s twisted! Damn it, doesn’t it hurt?”

It did.

But it wasn’t the hero’s rage, nor the sharp, stinging pain on my skin, that hurt the most.

‘I just wanted to teach you about love.’

It hurt to be misunderstood by him.

I should’ve taken things more seriously from the start.

I shouldn’t have lied about something I couldn’t back up.

No, that’s not it.

I never should’ve survived in the first place.

This was all my fault, from beginning to end.

---

“Go to the healer! Your ankle’s swollen and red; why are you trying to act tough?”

“I said I’m fine.”

I only noticed I was injured once I managed to pull myself together.

Vasco had been shaking my shoulders, asking if I was okay, and while his fussing was noisy, I was grateful for the concern.

If it were a serious injury, I would have noticed right away, no matter how mentally shaken I was.

This was just a minor sprain—a little rest at home would have me back to normal in no time.

“Really? Acting tough again, are we?” Vasco grumbled.

“And what’s with that attitude, like you’re used to getting hurt?”

“Well… I am used to it.”

In a battlefield, injuries like this are par for the course.

Even running away from the attacks of demonkin can leave you with small wounds.

When survival is at stake, saving your life takes priority over worrying about minor injuries.

Staying alive comes first!

Uh-oh.

“You…”

Did I just hit Vasco’s “wild imagination” button by mistake?

“Even if it’s not some terminal illness, it still hurts, doesn’t it? What is it called? How bad is it that you’re acting like this!?”

I told you it’s nothing! I’m already feeling miserable after being rejected by the Hero, so don’t make me come up with weird excuses!

‘Can you even call this ‘rejected’?’

At this point, I might as well be on his permanent blacklist.

Sure, the Hero hates people, but there’s a world of difference between “someone I dislike for no reason” and “someone I dislike because they acted rudely toward me!”

“Isn’t it weirder for an adventurer to make such a fuss over a little sprained ankle?”

In reality, I was already sulking from being brushed off by the Hero, but I adjusted my voice to sound indifferent, trying to avoid any misunderstandings.

Like it didn’t bother me at all.

“That’s not what I’m talking about!” Vasco snapped.

“Anyway, a good night’s sleep will fix it.”

I had no energy left.

After all the effort I’d put in, everything had come crashing down, leaving me drained.

I needed time alone to think things over calmly and decide what to do next.

Maybe Vasco was worried because I looked so dejected.

I couldn’t tell him the truth, though, so I had to insist I was fine.

“Vincente says you’ve been having nightmares.”

How does he know that?

“Well, Vincente told me.”

These adventurers—do they not understand the concept of keeping their mouths shut?

It was irritating, but since Vincente had already spilled the beans, there wasn’t much point in trying to explain it away.

More than that, though, I was just so, so tired.

I couldn’t waste my energy on pointless conversations.

The stress was overwhelming.

I needed to think clearly.

“I’m going home.”

“What about the healer? Are you really not going?”

“No.”

My head hurt.

A whirlwind of ideas on how to make the Hero forgive me flashed through my mind, but none of them seemed useful.

There was nothing that felt like the answer.

If I stayed here any longer, Vasco might actually drag me somewhere, so I went home.

I didn’t want to see a priest or a healer.

There’s no solution there.

I don’t have nightmares because of some curse, so going to a shrine won’t help.

And my sprained ankle?

Compared to fixing things with the Hero, it barely matters.

“Ugh.”

Ah, my ankle.

It does hurt, throbbing with every step.

But it’s bearable.

Back before I returned to this timeline, I’d been injured like this countless times while on the run.

Now, at least, I’m not fleeing from anything.

I can walk slowly.

No one is chasing me. There’s no need to worry.

…But I’m worried.

Don’t be.

Don’t get swept up in these heavy emotions.

Don’t let the pressure crush you when you haven’t even reached a conclusion.

Think.

Think about how to get back on the Hero’s good side.

Should I bring him some cream bread?

But what if he takes it the wrong way, thinking I’m trying to bribe him with food and gets even angrier?

Or maybe I could ask him to talk and clear up the misunderstanding.

There’s this fancy restaurant I was planning to introduce to him—he might like it.

But would he even agree to meet while he’s this upset?

What if he ignores me completely, refusing to show up no matter how long I wait…?

It hurts.

* * *