(Sara POV)
I feel cursed.
Everyone I care about just… dies.
It started with my parents. Monsters raided our village, tearing everything apart. Their deaths were horrible, senseless, and completely preventable. But Philemon's cowardice sealed our fate. He had the power to help. He could've sent soldiers. Instead, he turned his back on us. To nobles like him, commoners are nothing but people-shaped tools. Replaceables that have only one meaning to them: work for their profit.
However, it's not only the nobility. Those who take lives for money—mercenaries, slavers, assassins—also corrupt the world from within, affecting innocent people who are unrelated to their sufferings.
Losing Mimir was already enough to shake me. He was steady. Kind. A better man than most.
But even then, I still had [Counter Arrow]. My party. My second family. We fought, we teased, we survived together.
And now… Susanne, Timothy, Patris… all gone.
When Ryuta found me—when he looked at me and didn't say a word—I already knew. I saw it in his eyes. They were really dead.
And something inside me just… broke.
I was grateful to Ryuta. Of course I was. He saved me again. Kept me from something far worse. But gratitude can't fill a hole that deep.
So I took a dagger from one of the mercenaries… and slit my own throat.
It was reckless. Maybe selfish. But in that moment, I didn't care. I was tired of watching everyone around me die while I kept surviving.
But fate… had other plans for me.
I woke up staring at a wooden ceiling, dazed, unsure if I was alive or not.
My fingers brushed the skin on my neck.
No wound. No pain. Just smooth, unbroken skin.
"...You're finally awake."
Ryuta's voice. Calm. Familiar. But I couldn't look at him.
"You healed me," I murmured.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "Didn't think much. Just acted on impulse at what was the right move to do."
"You should've left me," I said as I closed my eyes.
"You don't mean that."
He sounded tired. Not angry. Not judging. Just… tired.
"I didn't want to be saved," I whispered. "Not this time."
"I know."
His voice didn't flinch. Just quiet understanding.
I turned my head toward him. He was seated beside the bed, eyes bloodshot, face drawn like he hadn't slept since finding me.
For a long time, neither of us spoke.
"Sara…" he spoke in a low voice. "I know what it's like. To want it all to stop. To feel like everything's been stripped from you until there's nothing left."
His eyes were distant, as if he were seeing something far away.
"I've had those days too. Where I thought if I disappeared, maybe the world around me would be better. Or at least quieter."
He looked at me then—really looked. Not with pity. With purpose.
"You've lost more than most ever will. And no one gets to tell you how to carry that. But if you give up now, if you vanish into that darkness, then everything they died for… ends here. Don't let that be their legacy. Carry them. Not as weights. As reasons. Reasons to keep walking. To find something worth living for. That's not surrender. That's defiance."
I stared at him, the lump in my throat growing heavier.
"You hate me now, don't you?" I asked.
He blinked. "Why would I hate you?"
"Because I tried to throw away the life you fought to protect."
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
"I can't say that I'm a good person for most people's standards… I've done things I can't speak aloud. Things that'd make people flinch just hearing them. Sometimes I'm not sure if feeling nothing in those moments is right. But if I hated anyone who gave up for a moment, someone who experiences something that shatters them from the inside… I'd have to start with myself."
I didn't know what to say. No one had ever said anything like that to me before. Not like that.
He ran a hand through his hair. "You're not weak. You're grieving. And that's human."
The tears finally came, slow and silent. I let them.
"…So what now?" Ryuta asked quietly.
I blinked. I hadn't even thought about that, but it was somewhat clear to me what I should be doing next.
"I'm taking their ashes to Sharia," I said. "Timothy talked about it often. Said he wanted to visit home again. Maybe bring something back to them."
My voice cracked, but I kept going.
"It's the least I can do."
Ryuta nodded. "And after?"
I shook my head. "I don't know. Maybe I just… keep wandering and find a new part to join."
He leaned back, arms crossing lightly. "Well, Sharia's not a bad place to land. I'm actually based there. Enrolled at the Magic University as a second-year student."
I gave him a sideways glance. "You? At a school?"
Timothy did say that Ryuta attended the university from his hometown, but I still had my doubts about it since it was still a rumor.
He smirked. "Shocking, I know. But it's not a bad place to learn various things from. While it may be called Magic University, there are a lot of non-Magic corrigilum to attend to."
I stared at him for a beat.
"You're not going to tell me to enroll, are you?"
"Not really," he said. "Just come with me. For the journey, at least. I'll make sure you get there safe."
I found myself doubting whether he truly meant what he said, even though he had consistently shown me kindness. I wanted to trust his words, but there's a part of me that fears the potential pain of forming another close bond. The thought of losing someone again—and the shock of their absence—terrifies me. It makes me hesitate, wondering if I can endure that heartbreak another time.
But accepting his offer isn't the same as getting close to him... even though the feelings from before still stand.
I nodded, just once. "Alright. Just until Sharia."
He stood. "Just until Sharia."
But something in his voice made me think… he hoped for more than that.
And for the first time in a long time, I didn't push the idea away.
***
Before we left, Ryuta made one last stop at the local guild, mainly to report [Counter Arrow] deceased, except for me.
He also mentioned reporting signs of a Red Dragon in the area—scorch marks and red scales, the usual omens of a stray.
They listened. Of course they did. When someone like Ryuta talks, someone with that confident presence, whose name affects those who hear his name, people pay attention.
After that, we packed light and set out for Sharia.
I was wondering where he had packed the bodies of Susanne and the others, but then he showed me his special Magic, a pocket dimension as he calls it. It's a unique spell that allows him to store large amounts of items.
He said that he put away their bodies using the utmost respect he could, wrapping their bodies and even asking me to take whatever memento I'd like to carry with me.
I decided to bring Timothy's scarf with me. There wasn't much outside their gear that I could take, since none of them carried much of anything personally valuable.
Ryuta cremated them each afterwards and put their ashes in their own urns he conjured with his Earth Magic, each with their names written on them.
After that was completed, we left Rosenburg and headed straight to Sharia, with him carrying me. There was no horse or carriage—just Ryuta, his strong arms and hands supporting my thighs as he effortlessly bore me on his back.
Initially, I was confused. There were no heavy footsteps or wild gallops—just a fluid movement, as if we were gliding smoothly in the air at a low height.
"You're probably wondering how I'm not breaking my spine right now," he said, grinning without breaking stride.
"I figured you'd finally lost it and tell me."
He laughed. "Gravity Magic. I'm decreasing our weight by approximately seventy percent, and I utilize Wind Magic to propel us forward with the wind rather than against it. This allows us to sprint across the terrain without risking broken bones or strained muscles."
He flexed one arm dramatically. "Not that I need it. This body's a weapon. Years of training, strict diet, peak conditioning—"
I rolled my eyes. But quietly, deep down… I was grateful.
The jokes, the banter—they were his way of distracting me and reminding me that the world could still be absurdly funny and light, even if only for a few seconds.
And for a little while, it worked.
Days of travelling at insane speed on foot passed by, and we finally reached Sharia just as dusk kissed the rooftops. The city was certainly lively, more so than in Rosenberg. But I wasn't here for sightseeing. I was here to say goodbye.
Timothy's family wasn't hard to find. His mother cried the moment she saw the urn in my hands. His father didn't say much. Just placed a rough hand on my shoulder and nodded once.
We held the funeral the same day. Simple. Quiet. A few words from the priest, a few more from me. I barely got them out.
Ryuta stood at the edge of the gathering, silent and still. He didn't intrude. He just… stayed. That meant more than I could say.
I didn't cry during the ceremony. Not really. But afterward, when everyone had gone home and it was just me and the grave marker under a pale sky—I broke down.
And that's when I knew: I couldn't keep doing this. The adventurer's life... it wasn't mine anymore. Not right now. I was too tired of watching people I cared about disappear from a job that constantly put our lives at risk.
So I chose to retire from adventuring early.
When I told Ryuta, he didn't argue. Didn't try to talk me out of it.
Instead, he said, "There's a daycare not far from the university. The owner is old and understaffed. I could put in a good word for you."
That was it. No grand pitch. Just a quiet observation.
And that's how I ended up working at a daycare tucked near the Sharia marketplace.
It wasn't much—just a cozy building with chipped paint, a fenced playground in the backyard, and a bunch of energetic kids. They were loud, messy, and sometimes overwhelming. But they smiled. They laughed. They didn't care about the scars I carried—inside or out.
They just wanted someone to play with. Someone to listen.
At first, I felt like I didn't belong. As if I were pretending to be someone I wasn't.
But slowly… day by day… I stopped pretending.
Some mornings, I still wake up thinking I'll hear Timothy's voice, teasing me about my cooking. Or Mimir's calm tone, reminding us not to overspend on rations. Or Susanne, laughing at her own bad jokes.
But when a little hand tugs on my sleeve, asking me to tie a shoe or draw a dragon with six wings and a crown, I remember:
Life didn't end. It just… changed, just like it did when [Counter Arrow] picked me up.
And maybe, just maybe, this is what they would've wanted for me.
Not to forget. But to live.
///