When a person is caught in the grip of emotional torment, time begins to move unbearably slow.
Zenith felt as though she had cried herself dry.
Her hair hung in disarray, her face pale and despondent as she stared blankly into the ravine before her.
The mountain was full of silhouettes, flickering and blurred.
Nearly every able-bodied man in Buena Village had come to help dig. Ever since the dreadful news had arrived before midnight the night before, the rescue effort had launched in full force.
Monster subjugation had always been the village's collective responsibility. When the beasts went berserk this year, many had hesitated to act out of fear—especially while Paul was away. It was that hesitation that had allowed the danger to fester.
Now, seeing Paul and Allen's party venture into the valley alone to rectify that mistake, every villager felt the debt acutely. From the depths of their hearts, they wanted to repay it.
So they'd grabbed shovels, monster-piercing pitchforks, and set off into the woods by torchlight.
Strangely, there had been a handful of monsters lingering near the outer forest. But the closer they got to the valley, the fewer there were—until, by the time they reached the edge of the ravine, not a single monster had appeared.
"Keep pushing, everyone!!"
Paul's hoarse voice rang from up ahead. His face was lined with exhaustion, dark rings deep under his bloodshot eyes. His beard had grown out in the last two days. But even so, he kept digging, methodically, tirelessly.
Yet the mouth of the valley was still buried.
The snow hadn't fallen again today. The setting sun cast long golden rays through the mountain pass, illuminating Zenith's dazed, hollow face.
It had been a full twenty-four hours since Allen and Sylphy fell into the gorge.
"I shouldn't have let them go to the forest... It's my fault. It's all my fault..."
"Miss Zenith... Allen's strong. He'll be okay."
"It's my fault. It's my fault..."
Lilia watched her expression and felt her own heart sink. Her fiery red hair had fallen loose, tangled around her shoulders. She knew her words were only shallow comfort.
The truth of what happened had already spread through the rescue group last night.
It wasn't just that the entrance had been sealed by an avalanche.
They'd fallen—from halfway up the mountain.
Even for someone as capable as Allen, a hundred-meter drop… if they hadn't managed to slow themselves immediately...
She shook her head hard, forcing the grim thoughts away.
Lilia pulled Zenith's cloak tighter. The woman's skin was already turning blue from the cold. They had both rushed out after hearing the news, throwing on coats over their nightclothes and running to the neighbors' to leave the children in their care before racing into the woods.
When Zenith arrived and saw the buried valley with her own eyes, she had frozen. Her expression twisted. Then she collapsed to her knees, crying silently into the snow.
Since dawn, she had been muttering the same words over and over.
As a former adventurer, she likely understood all too well—how dire the situation was.
How slim the chances were.
And as for Rudeus, usually calm and far too mature for his age…
Lilia turned to look at him.
Rudeus sat curled up on the ground beneath a blanket, eyes locked on the snow. He looked dazed—like someone who hadn't woken from a dream, disconnected from the world.
If Zenith's grief was visible to the naked eye, then Rudeus's was the kind that seeped inwards—quiet, heavy.
At least Zenith still ate.
Rudeus hadn't moved in hours. He sat curled like that the entire time, as if by hiding his head, he could block out the reality unfolding around him.
Lilia had never seen him look so fragile.
But… wasn't this what a child was supposed to look like in the face of tragedy?
The others understood this. No one tried to rouse him. He was, after all, just a child. He couldn't contribute to the digging. And Paul had strictly forbidden him from using magic.
Even though wind or fire spells might have made clearing the snow faster, Paul had insisted it was too dangerous. A poorly controlled wind spell could destabilize the snowpack. Fire could melt it—but in this freezing weather, it would quickly turn to ice, making everything worse.
So Rudeus was left here.
Lilia knelt down before him, offering the now rock-hard loaf of bread in her hand.
He took it dazedly, murmured a polite "Thank you," and tucked it into his coat without eating it.
Lilia opened her mouth, trying to say something—but after a long pause, could only sigh.
There were already several uneaten loaves stuffed in his coat.
Each time she'd offered him food before, she'd held him, whispered gentle words: It's not your fault… You did your best…
But he never smiled.
He always thanked her. Spoke clearly. But his eyes were distant—like he was still dreaming.
She stared at him for a long moment, then turned toward Paul, still leading the dig. She reached into her basket for another loaf, ready to bring it over—
When Rudeus spoke.
"Lilia… what do you think Allen was thinking, when he jumped in to save me?"
Lilia froze and turned back toward him.
Rudeus still stared at the snow at his feet, not looking at her, not expecting an answer.
He just kept talking.
"If it were me, I'd save them too. Because just imagining what their bodies would look like… two crushed piles of blood and flesh right in front of me… I'd regret it forever. So yeah, I'd save them. Even if I was unlucky and ended up a broken mess, at least in that moment, I'd know I made the right choice."
Lilia was at a loss for words. Her lips parted, then shut again.
Rudeus looked up at her, eyes unfocused.
But she could tell—he wasn't really seeing her.
His voice, soft and puzzled, drifted in the wind:
"So why… when I know I'd do the same thing, even for strangers… why was I the one who got saved?"
Lilia blinked.
Rudeus's words picked up speed—flowing faster, sharper, more precise. His mouth moved like a machine gun, firing thoughts directly into her ears.
"I have so much mana. If I'd used all of it—if I went all out with a wind spell—maybe I could've blown us back to Father. So why him? Why did he save me, not the other way around?"
"I'm always calling Allen out for talking pretty and acting cool, but now I'm doing the exact same thing—spouting pretty words, interrogating myself, pretending that's enough?"
"I saw it—when he saved me, there wasn't even a moment of hesitation. Did he know he might die? Or was he just like me—doing what he wouldn't regret?"
"Then if we were thinking the same way, why am I the one sitting here, regretting everything? Lilia, I don't get it."
He looked at her, as if searching for an answer—or maybe hoping she'd berate him, scold him, blame him.
In that raw, unguarded moment, Lilia saw it clearly—the same kind of ruthless logic Allen had used when confronting everyone after the cheating scandal.
But this time, Rudeus wasn't questioning others.
He was tearing himself apart.
Almost two years now… and Allen's butterfly wings had stirred far more than one person's fate.
Lilia couldn't speak.
"Ahhhh!!!"
Suddenly, a shout came from the dig site. At once, Rudeus and Zenith sprang to their feet and rushed toward the sound. Lilia followed close behind.
When they reached the scene, they found Laws, his wife, and Paul already there, faces pale with exhaustion—and now, frozen in disbelief.
The snow hadn't been cleared yet.
But the color had changed.
Near a discarded shovel—dropped in horror—was a patch of snow, stained a thick, black-purple.
Everyone who saw it felt their hearts turn to ice.