chapter 41
“Herace, you know…”
Hadn’t I promised before? Not just for myself, but to change Herace’s reputation as well. I didn’t want to let someone who had experienced perfect teamwork for the first time fall into despair.
It was love, camaraderie, and a sense of responsibility all at once.
“I must not cause any harm, no matter what.”
We were a mutually dependent pair. If I, the villain who knew Whistler’s true identity, disappeared, Herace would be left alone.
Alone in this harsh world. I didn’t want to leave him lonely. I wanted to stay by his side.
“I have to get out, somehow.”
By now, Clara would be searching for me. Since she had never left the temple, it was highly likely she would be wandering around nearby.
“I have to go.”
Hunger and thirst made the cold press closer. The only saving grace was that I was familiar with the darkness and the space was small enough to move around cautiously.
I crawled slowly instead of walking, preparing for dangerous moments.
The warehouse seemed to have wooden planks and bricks scattered around—apparently used for construction storage.
“Is there a hammer too?”
Clinging to a small hope, I searched the surroundings. But there wasn’t a single sharp tool in sight, not even a hammer.
Disappointed, I closed my lips. Then a solid touch brushed against my shoulder, followed by a loud thud!
A wooden plank had fallen at my feet. It was strange, with holes all over it, as if rotted.
“Looks a bit like a mushroom.”
The plank was small with rounded corners, which brought that thought to mind. At that moment, instinctively, I lifted my head.
“I think Mille went through something similar.”
In the original novel before the remake, Whistler once rescued Mille from a warehouse. Just as he rushed over to check on her, the door slammed shut again.
Even in the whirling darkness, Whistler remained calm. Embracing Mille’s shoulder, hurt by a strange plank, he discovered a hidden underground staircase in the warehouse.
“You said it was fallen near the door.”
Perhaps in a corner. I raised my detective instincts and ran my hands over the wooden floor. The texture was rough.
“You said it was sunken in.”
I moved carefully, paying close attention. I felt a sloped edge carved into the wooden floor. Grasping the end and lifting, the floor came up easily, revealing a deep rectangular groove with a metal ring.
“Found it.”
My heart thumped, thinking the information might be wrong. Clutching the ring, I pulled it, revealing a ladder leading underground.
“Wow.”
So this is really like the novel. Moreover, unlike before, I was adapting to being a character in this story.
Smiling again, I grabbed the ladder and descended through the narrow space alone.
“All the tools must have been stored here, which is why I couldn’t see them no matter how hard I looked.”
On one side, axes, swords, arrows, and other intimidating weapons were piled as if it were a store. On the other side, broken iron bars stood, but nothing I needed was visible. After scanning the weapons, I picked up one that looked like a giant club.
Returning to face the wall, I squared my shoulders.
“It’ll work somehow.”
Though I normally liked to plan thoroughly, at moments like this I had to follow instinct—just like when I first possessed this body and stayed still to avoid altering the story’s flow.
Taking a deep breath, I swung the club with all my strength. Bang! The heavy weapon clashed with the bricks, creating a deafening noise.
“One of two things will happen.”
Either I break the wall, or Clara hears the noise and comes to rescue me. Logically, it was more likely than dying of starvation.
“Keep going.”
It was my first time.
Even though this world was a novel, even if I was a character, I had made a vow to survive.
I don’t know how much time passed. I couldn’t tell exactly, but I knew some things:
My head was a mess, my clothes soaked with sweat, my palms scraped, my butt bruised. Most importantly, I was out of breath, my throat burned, and I was hungry.
Bang! I swung the club again and collapsed onto the floor. It hurt, but I had no strength left even to groan.
“Morning, I guess.”
I murmured as I looked around the now brighter warehouse, letting a small laugh escape.
Light seeped through the cracked bricks. Until just a moment ago, it had been darkness; now hope began to appear.
“First, let’s switch weapons.”
I put down the club and picked up a small axe. I didn’t have much strength left, so I needed something relatively light.
“I should wrap something around it.”
The axe was old, with splinters on the handle. If I held it barehanded, I’d hurt myself.
A few scraps of paper caught my eye, rolled on the floor. Strange magical circles were drawn on them, faded and damp from neglect.
I wrapped the handle with the paper and gripped the axe firmly. Summoning all my remaining strength, I swung it.
Kraaaaang! The sound was enormous, far louder than before.
Did I make that noise? Sparks like purple flashes seemed to fly—was it my imagination?
As I paused to catch my breath, bang! The wall resonated. Bricks crumbled instantly, as if the sky had split in two.
“…Huh?”
In shock, I looked back and forth between my hands and the wall. Nothing had changed. The axe hadn’t flown up to destroy the wall.
Swallowing hard, I blinked, clutching the axe, stepping back. Dust swirled through the cracked wall, obscuring my vision.
‘Is that even human?’
A chill ran down my spine. My feet felt glued to the floor. The figure visible through the dust wasn’t human—it was a beast, larger than a human.
Hic! I almost toppled backward at the unimaginable sight. I instinctively closed my eyes to suppress my fear.
Time kept passing, and I urged myself onward. I scolded myself for staying still.
Suppressing my hiccups, I dared to look forward. My eyes widened in disbelief.
“…Huh? Oh—!”
I gasped with near-euphoric joy. Standing before me wasn’t Whistler, nor a beast—it was my boyfriend, Herace.
Herace had rushed in, grabbing me and holding me roughly but gently. I, still disoriented, alternated my gaze between the beast’s spot and him.
“Herace… is that really you? Not a fake, the real Gray, right?”
Herace tightened his grip. It hurt a little, but it confirmed to me that it wasn’t a dream, so I didn’t push him away.
He whispered in a tired voice, nuzzling my neck:
“What’s this about a fake Herace?”
“I just misspoke—I couldn’t believe it. There’s no fake Herace.”
“Exactly… exactly…”
Herace, babbling nonsensically, fell silent. He pulled me deeper into his embrace.
“I’m glad I found you. I’m so glad I found you. Whether I’m fake or real doesn’t matter—I feel alive now that I’ve met you again.”
Hearing him say he felt alive, I looked at him. More precisely, I tried to—awkwardly pressing my cheek against his back.
“Herace, you should say ‘I will live,’ not ‘I feel alive now.’ Add adverbs like ‘absolutely’ if you can.”
“Even that much? For me, just saying ‘I feel alive’ is already a miracle.”
“Because—”
I couldn’t continue. It was a different feeling than usual, and forming it into familiar words was difficult.
