I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. One 'sorry' for each chapter that didn't get uploaded. I don't know what happened. I had everything prepared for two weeks.
......
"The Weight of Survival"
A man walked down the street, his face sunk in a weariness so deep it almost blurred into resignation. With every step, looks of contempt struck his back like blades. No one even tried to hide it. Their eyes drifted to his hunter's clothes, stained by the traces of a job he himself despised, and then to the strange rifle strapped across his back—an object that had become the only reason his daughter was still breathing.
But he ignored it all. Because if he stopped to answer even a single one of those stares, if he allowed himself to hate them as much as he hated the uniform he wore, perhaps he wouldn't have any strength left to return home.
He crossed the invisible border that split the city into two halves that never touched. A high-class residential district unfolded before his eyes: immaculate gardens, silent streets, lampposts that glowed as if they would never go out. There, men wearing the same uniform walked hand in hand with their wives, their children running freely without fear of anyone pointing at them. When they saw him, some returned his greeting with a slight nod. No one there judged his clothes. No one there dared to ask the exact price one had to pay for that small privilege of security.
The man continued walking until he reached one of the houses. His hands trembled slightly as he set the key in the lock. When he opened the door, a warm aroma of home-cooked food hit him square in the chest, bringing with it a nostalgia impossible to describe.
A woman stepped out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a white towel. Her eyes examined him anxiously, scanning every inch of his body until she was convinced he was unharmed. When she confirmed there were no injuries, her chest eased in a long sigh of relief.
"It's good you're here… I'm cooking," she said, with a gentle smile that couldn't quite hide her worry.
"Great," he replied, his voice hoarse. "Today was… pretty disastrous."
He unstrapped the rifle from his back in a heavy, almost defeated motion, and stored it in a side compartment that sealed itself with a beep after he entered his passcode.
"How's Sally?" he asked in a whisper, as if afraid of the answer.
"In her room… playing on her computer," the woman replied, a sad gleam in her gaze. "I'd like to take her out… at least at night, when no one can see her. She needs… a bit of fresh air."
"Yes. I know." The man clenched his jaw, unable to meet her eyes. "But you know if anyone ever saw her…" He didn't finish the sentence. He couldn't.
"Yes… I know," she admitted in a thin voice. "But… it's not fair for her to be locked inside all the time." Tears trembled on her eyelids, still refusing to fall.
"I'll try to see if I can hire a carriage… to take her for a ride along the back roads," he said quickly, as if he were patching a wound that would never stop bleeding.
The woman lowered her head. "All right…" she murmured sadly.
The man felt something inside him fracture in an unbearable silence. He stepped closer and placed his hands on his wife's shoulders, searching for a comfort he didn't dare to ask for.
"I know we can't go on like this… But the only reason Sally is still alive… is because I accepted this disgusting job," he said, his voice quivering. "And even then… the looks she gets from others… they're even worse than the ones I endure for being a traitor." His eyes filled with a powerless fury. "If that hurts me, as an adult… can you imagine what it does to a ten-year-old girl? And if an elf ever found out… they wouldn't hesitate to send someone to kill her. Remember the rule we agreed to… to protect her."
"…That she can't go out… can't get close to others… can't have friends… can't ever marry." The woman's voice cracked, and the tears she'd held back finally began to roll down her cheeks. "I know you hate that job… I'm so sorry…"
"It's all right…" he whispered. His fingers tightened on her shoulder. "At least I can choose who I hunt… I always try to make sure they're criminals. Though… sorry for bringing back so few flasks because of it."
"No… don't apologize…" she said through a sob. "If you were like the others… who hunt children and the elderly… you wouldn't be the man who protects us. The man who… was forced to do something he despises, but never lost his purpose…"
"Thank you… for understanding," he murmured, closing his eyes for a moment. Then he took a deep breath, trying to shake off the exhaustion clinging to his bones. "How about you call Sally… and we have a movie night? Even if it's just… a small moment of happiness."
The woman wiped her face with the towel, forcing a smile. "Yes… I'm sure she'll love that…"
But meanwhile, at the top of the stairs, a little girl with white hair listened to them in silence. Her tiny hands clutched the railing, trembling faintly.
Her eyes dropped to a lock of her hair falling over her shoulder. White. Like the death sentence she'd been given the day she was born. With a tired sigh, she turned around and climbed back up to her room, dragging her feet.
White hair. That unmistakable mark of the Rejected. When mana came into the world, it brought with it a silent curse: those born without the spark of mana in their bodies saw their hair turn white, like a cruel mockery. And the worst part was that even if a Rejected married the most powerful mage on Earth, their descendants would never have mana. Generation after generation, a lineage branded by emptiness.
Before the arrival of the elves, none of this had mattered much. They would simply have been people unable to use magic—nothing more. But with the invaders' rule, everything changed. The Rejected were hunted and slaughtered because their bodies were worthless as mana offerings. And because if their blood mixed with everyone else's, their "defect" could spread. If a child was born with white hair, it meant a signed death sentence—and if necessary, the complete destruction of any city that dared to protect them.
Sally's father knew it before she was born. When a Rejected baby grows in their mother's womb, she loses the ability to produce mana. That sign was unmistakable. So he left behind his old life and joined the hunters serving the elves. There, wearing the uniform everyone despised, he achieved the only thing that mattered to him: negotiating his daughter's life.
He could have accepted living exempt from taxes, enjoying comforts that might compensate for the shame of being a traitor. But he chose to pay every tribute with his own blood, as long as they allowed him to protect her. That nearly cost all of them their lives. But his superior—a man as severe as he was strangely compassionate—agreed to take the risk. On one condition: that Sally must never be seen by anyone.
And so, for ten years, every outing meant wigs, hats, and lies. Until one day, even that farce became unbearable. Sally stopped going out. Stopped trying. She shut herself away in her room, playing games that could not hurt her, wondering how many hateful looks her father endured because of her.
Sitting on her bed, her vacant eyes fixed on the glowing screen of her computer, she felt a sadness swell in her chest that she had no idea where to put.
"Sally, sweetheart… your father's home. Would you like to have a movie night?" her mother asked from the hallway, her voice unsteady.
Sally blinked, too tired even to cry.
"I don't really feel like it, Mom…" she murmured at last.
"I see… then… what if we play a game? Like last time… when we laughed so much…" her mother insisted, clinging to anything that might make her smile.
"Mom… for today… I'd rather be alone."
There was a silence. A silence that seemed to stretch like a crack in the wall.
"…All right, sweetheart… Maybe… tomorrow," her mother whispered, before slowly walking away.
Sally remained there, alone in the stillness of her room, wishing the world could forget she existed.
"I should… I should stop consuming the flasks that cost Dad so much to get…" Sally murmured in a hollow voice, running a finger across the surface of her computer. Her eyes filled as she thought of all the times her father came home with slumped shoulders, carrying that rifle as if it were a cross. "I can't even produce my own…"
A trembling sigh escaped her lips as her hand reached for the power button. That screen was her only refuge… and also a reminder of how useless she felt.
But then, a notification suddenly flashed in front of her, lighting up the darkness of her room.
"You have a message."
Sally froze. Her finger hovered barely half a centimeter from the power button. She blinked, confused. For an instant, she thought it must be some maintenance alert or a message from her mother. But… she could read it before shutting down. With a slight tremor in her hands, she clicked.
The words appeared with a soft glow:
"Have you ever felt trapped behind walls you didn't choose?"
"Have you dreamed of a place where your hair isn't a mark of condemnation, but a symbol of power?"
The instant she finished reading the first line, her heart lurched violently in her chest. Fear rose in her throat like a silent scream. With a nervous impulse, she leaned forward, almost pressing her face to the screen as her eyes scanned every word, searching for a trap, some hidden threat.
[Hello, dear user. Would you like to escape the world? Live a completely different life? Conquer lands and protect the weak? Why not try playing this fabulous game called DRUNAI? This invitation is unique. It could change your life forever.]
[Do you accept? (Yes) (No)]
Her breath shook. Her mind was torn between the panic those first sentences had stirred… and the absurd normality of everything ending as a game ad.
"A… game?" she whispered incredulously. Even so, her wariness didn't fade. She had learned that anything that seemed too good to be true… probably wasn't.
She pressed her lips together, staring at the options box as if it were a minefield. But something inside her—a part so tired of everything, so broken—needed to believe that maybe, even for a while, there could be a different place.
With a slight tremor in her thumb, she touched "Yes." The screen changed instantly.
[Welcome to Drunai, Sally. Your physical and mental data will be used to create a character suited to you. Safe travels!]
Blue light erupted from the computer without warning, wrapping around her in an almost liquid radiance. She tried to step back, but a tingling sensation spread across her skin. She blinked—and in the next instant, the room was gone.
Silence greeted her.
Sally opened her eyes, scarcely daring to breathe. She was standing in the middle of an immense field, covered by a sea of green grass that swayed in the breeze. In the distance, a dense forest rose like a dark wall, and behind her stood a ruined stone wall that looked as if it had been devoured by time. The sky, streaked with white clouds, glowed with a gentle sun that warmed her skin.
For a moment, everything felt so real she thought something was breaking inside her chest.
She raised a hand to her hair—and went cold.
It was black. A deep, smooth, shining black. She let out a trembling gasp, touching her body all over. It was… her normal body. But her hair had changed. And her clothes… just a set of old, gray fabric.
"What… what is this?" she whispered shakily, glancing around as if expecting someone to mock her.
Two luminous balls of smoke floated at her side, quivering in what looked like nervous anticipation.
"Hey, you! Are you a player too? Why do you look normal while I showed up like this?" asked one of the spheres. Each word made it flicker with bright white flashes.
"I… I-I don't… know…" stammered Sally, hugging herself tightly.
"Ugh! What the hell is this?" screamed the other ball of smoke, her voice female and brimming with both fury and excitement. "It's freaking awesome! A damn field, a damn forest… really freaking awesome!" she shrieked, slipping curses between every sentence.
"Why are you yelling? You're insufferable…" muttered the first sphere in a tone that was obviously male. "You're Rachel, right? What the hell kind of game did you drag us into?"
"I don't know," the female sphere replied with a calm that clashed completely with her enthusiasm. "But it's still amazing. Look!" she exclaimed, beginning to float slowly upward, drifting in circles.
The male sphere let out a long, resigned sigh.
Sally covered her mouth with a hand, fighting back the nervous laughter that was threatening to burst out. Those two seemed like something out of an absurd play.
But her brief moment of distraction shattered when she heard footsteps crunching over the grass.
She turned her head with a start, and her eyes widened in shock.
A woman was approaching, walking with the certainty of someone who owned the world itself. Two red horns rose from her forehead, glowing with a subtle light. Her eyes, so red they looked like embers, fixed on Sally with a scrutiny that made her heart tremble. Her hair was a pale, almost silvery blue.
Behind her, a small girl with angel wings… and a hat with floppy rabbit ears… watched them with open curiosity. She was even smaller than Sally.
But it was the woman who spoke, her voice deep and laced with a restrained amazement.
"Another strange race," she murmured as her gaze locked onto Sally, as if she could see everything she had tried her entire life to hide.