Is it my fault? The thought rose unbidden in my mind, sharp and accusing. My chest tightened as I watched her sway slightly on her feet, those dark circles under her eyes looking like bruises against her pale skin.
I'd felt something was off before too—that nagging sensation in the back of my mind when Boraz mentioned she'd been working since yesterday evening. She would do something reckless like this. The certainty of that thought struck me oddly.
I didn't know why it felt like I knew her—really knew her—just as well as Grey, my childhood friend. Even though she had basically kidnapped us from our world just four days ago. Four days. That's all it had been.
Yet somehow, standing there watching her apologize with exhaustion pulling at every line of her body, something felt off. I knew she'd push herself too hard. Knew she'd sacrifice her own wellbeing without a second thought.
The familiarity of it unsettled me almost as much as the guilt twisting in my gut.
She was already exhausted, so I didn't want to complicate things. I needed to keep things smooth and steady—calm her down without making this worse.
"Hey, Ay!" I started, trying to keep my voice light. But I didn't know how to continue. The words tangled in my throat. "Please don't push yourself like that."
My face betrayed me. I could feel it—the way my eyebrows drew together, the tightness around my mouth, the concern I couldn't mask. My expression showed exactly what I felt: worry, guilt, frustration at my own helplessness. All of it written plainly across my face for her to see.
I'd wanted to sound reassuring, steady. Instead, I probably looked like I was about to lecture her or worse—like I blamed her for something that was entirely my fault to begin with.
The other heroes who came before me weren't like this—weren't like me, a mindless berserker who couldn't keep control. They were in full command of themselves, their power, and their actions. Aria's research had already proved it. There was no "synchronization" before me.
So it wasn't her fault. It was mine.
I was the one who was wrong here. The one who couldn't keep himself together. Something had happened during my summoning. Even Aria didn't understand what this "synchronization process" was. She was digging through old records just trying to figure it out, searching for answers to a problem she couldn't even properly define.
And now she was paying the price for whatever was broken inside me—dark circles under her eyes, swaying on her feet, apologizing to me when she should be resting. All because I couldn't be the hero they needed. The hero they deserved.
The weight of that realization pressed down on my chest, heavier than any training sword.
Grey and Boraz stood beside me. I glanced at them, desperate for help—for someone to say something, anything that would make this easier.
Boraz was speechless. His mouth stayed firmly shut, his usual grin nowhere to be found. He just stared at Aria with an expression I couldn't quite read—concern mixed with something like helplessness.
Grey looked equally troubled. His mouth parted slightly, like words were forming on his tongue, but nothing came out. He glanced between Aria and me, his jaw working silently as if he was trying to find the right thing to say and coming up empty.
No one knew what to say. The silence stretched between us, heavy and uncomfortable, filled only with the quiet sounds of the kitchen and Aria's exhausted breathing.
Her face twisted with pain—not physical, but something deeper. Her eyes glistened slightly as she looked at me.
"Sir Kaito, I'm sorry I worried you." Her voice was strained, barely above a whisper. "But please, don't stop me. I want to be useful to you. And the people who relied on this holy land to give them a hero..."
She paused, her breath hitching. Her hands clenched around the book she still held, knuckles white with the force of her grip.
"Every moment we waste here, people are dying." The words came out raw, desperate. "Out there, beyond these barriers—farmers, merchants, and even children."
From the corner of my eye, I saw Boraz's head drop. His gaze fixed on the floor, his usual confident posture crumbling into something smaller, hunched. His jaw worked silently, like he was chewing on words he couldn't take back.
The argument after their fight. His accusations had been sharp, cutting—"people from the holy land wasting supplies meant to protect people while they live comfortably inside these holy land barriers." He'd thrown those words at her like weapons, certain in his righteousness.
Now he stood there, shoulders tight, unable to meet anyone's eyes. The shame was written across every line of his body as he listened to her talk about dying innocent peoples. All while she pushed herself to collapse trying to fix what was broken in me.
"The monsters that are roaming outside freely, and those demons, they don't care that I'm exhausted or that you're still adjusting." Aria's voice pulled my attention back to her. "Every day I delay is another tragedy I could have prevented."
Her voice cracked, and she had to stop, swallowing hard. The weight of those deaths seemed to press down on her shoulders, visible in the way she trembled.
"So I can't stop." The determination returned to her voice, fierce despite the exhaustion pulling at every word. "I won't stop."
The silence that followed felt suffocating. Each second ticked by with the implication of her words—somewhere, right now, someone might be screaming for a hero who wasn't coming fast enough.
The determination in her voice was unmistakable, but so was the exhaustion. Each word seemed to cost her something, yet she forced them out anyway—resolute despite the way her shoulders sagged, despite the dark circles under her eyes, despite everything.
"But if you're exhausted and something happens, what would you do?"
It was Sister Maria. Her concerned face held the expression of a mother, a friend, a mentor—someone who had filled every role in Aria's life until now. Her eyes were soft but firm, the kind of look that came from years of caring for someone, of watching them push themselves too hard and having to pick up the pieces.
Her voice dropped, becoming quieter but somehow more forceful. "You would collapse, Aria." The words hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken history. "Just like you always do when you push too far."
Sister Maria's hands trembled slightly as she reached out. "So please!" The plea cracked through her composure, raw and desperate. Years of watching, worrying, catching Aria before she broke—all of it surfaced in those two words. "Stop doing this to yourself."
She stepped closer to Aria, her hands reaching out fully now as if wanting to steady her, to physically hold her together if words couldn't. Worry etched into every line of her face, deepening the creases around her eyes. This wasn't the first time she'd had this conversation. And the exhaustion of repeating it—of never being heard—showed in the sag of her shoulders.
Aria looked at Sister Maria with that same pained expression—her eyes searching, almost pleading. "Do you think I can do that?" Her voice cracked slightly, the exhaustion making it harder to keep her composure. "You know my nightmares. All this time I was suffering."
She swayed again, her grip tightening on the sweet potato and book as if they were the only things anchoring her. "Then how can you do this to me?" The words came out barely above a whisper, raw and vulnerable. "Please, Sister Maria, you too... don't..."
She couldn't finish. The sentence hung incomplete in the air between them, but the meaning was clear enough. Don't try to stop me. Don't take this away from me too.
The pain in her voice wasn't just from exhaustion—it was something deeper, older. Something that had been festering long before we ever arrived.
Sister Maria's eyes dropped to the floor. She couldn't continue either, her lips pressing together as if physically holding back words she knew wouldn't help. The silence that followed felt heavier somehow, weighted with things none of us knew how to say.
I didn't know what to say. No one had the right words to convince her. The quiet settled over us, heavy but not quite suffocating—more like everyone was holding their breath, waiting for something to break the impasse.
"Then why don't you at least rely on us?" Grey's voice cut through the silence like a thread of reason.
Everyone's eyes turned to Grey. His voice carried that familiar steady tone—the one he used when he'd figured something out, when he had a plan forming in that tactical mind of his.
My chest loosened slightly. My thoughts weren't clear before, but now there was a flicker of hope. It was him who gave it. He was a genius when it comes to things like this—my best friend. If anyone could thread the needle on this impossible situation, it would be Grey.
Her mood, though still weighed down by exhaustion, picked up slightly. The slump in her shoulders eased just a fraction, and her eyes—though still rimmed with dark circles—held a spark they hadn't moments before, as if Grey's words had opened a door she hadn't noticed was there.
"The holy library has all the records, doesn't it?" Grey said, his mind already piecing together the approach. "About the previous heroes, their histories—"
"How..." Aria began, then caught herself. "That's it. Why didn't I think of asking for help before?"
Grey gave a small nod.
Then something shifted in her expression—concern creeping back across her tired face. "But only I can enter. How can we..." As she spoke, her eyes landed on the book in her hands. Something flickered across her face—recognition, realization clicking into place.
Grey finished her thought, his tone matter-of-fact. "Just like that—bring them out. We can all search through them together."
Aria placed the sweet potato and the book she'd been clutching onto a nearby table. The motion was quick, almost carefree, like she was trying to pretend everything was fine.
"I'll bring them soon!" she said with a lightness in her voice, as though the weight of the world wasn't bearing down on her. Her eyes even sparkled for a second, like she was trying to muster up some excitement, the kind of energy she'd been pushing herself to have for days now.
But then, in an instant, her step faltered. It was subtle at first—just a slight miscalculation, the kind you'd make when you weren't quite paying attention. And before any of us could react, she was going down.
Her face hit the floor with a sickening thud, the sound ringing louder than any of us wanted to hear. For a moment, I just stood there, frozen. My mind refused to catch up to what had just happened—one moment, she was moving with that same stubborn energy, and the next... she was sprawled on the ground like a doll tossed aside.
Her arms were splayed out beside her, her body completely still for a heartbeat—just long enough for the air to grow heavy, thick, suffocating. The space between us felt like it was closing in on me, and I couldn't seem to move.
I felt a sharp, cold knot settle in my stomach as panic sliced through my chest. The world tilted, and I realized I hadn't even taken a breath.
*Was she breathing?* I couldn't tell if she was breathing—her body was completely still, no movement in her back or shoulders. She was just there, motionless. My legs wanted to move, but they felt like they were made of stone. I couldn't make my body follow the impulse to run to her, to check if she was okay.
The silence was deafening, like the room was holding its breath too.
Then—movement. She stirred. Her hand trembled as it pressed into the floor, her fingers dragging weakly across the wood. She groaned softly, a sound that made my chest tighten even more.
"Aria! Are you okay?" Sister Maria's voice cracked, urgent and sharp with worry. She moved forward, her hands hovering over Aria like she wanted to help but didn't know where to start.
"I'm fine," she muttered, barely a whisper. But it wasn't the kind of reassurance that could convince anyone, least of all me.
Her voice was hoarse, strained—too tired, too weak. But she still tried to smile. It didn't reach her eyes. And something inside me snapped.
I heard movement beside me—Grey and Boraz starting forward—but I was faster.
My legs moved on their own. I got closer and carefully took her in my arms—she felt lighter than I'd expected, surprisingly fragile.
She moved slightly, a weak attempt at resistance. "Sir Kaito! What are you doing?" Her voice came out flustered, embarrassed. "Please let me down!"
"You should rest first. We can continue the research tomorrow." My voice came out steadier and firmer than I expected, like I'd already made the decision for both of us.
She opened her mouth as if to protest again, but no words came out.
Heat crept up my face, but the anxiety of something happening to her right in front of me weighed far heavier. I pushed the feeling aside.
"Sister Maria, lead the way to where she's staying."
"She is with me. I'll lead the way," she said, her worried expression shifting into something I couldn't quite read. Was that embarrassment flickering across her face?
Behind me, I heard Boraz's voice, low but amused. "Our hero boy didn't miss his chance, did he?"
Grey's response came quieter, uncertain. "Even though... he said he didn't like her that way."
"Sure," Boraz muttered back.
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