15. Ferd's Fang (3)

The path to the Rift Labyrinth itself wasn't particularly complicated.

But walking with Maeve at my side made the journey feel like a forced march through purgatory.

"Tired? Want to rest?"

She seemed to notice my condition—still keeping her arm linked through mine, she offered the concern with what sounded like genuine worry.

…Did she not realize how absurd it was to worry about me after putting me in this state?

She'd cut the tendons in my wrist, latched herself to my side so I couldn't run, stripped me of any freedom of movement.

"No… I'm fine."

I was in no position to get angry, so I declined quietly and kept walking in silence, focused on reaching the Rift Labyrinth as quickly as possible.

…Just hold on until we get to the labyrinth.

"Maeve. I want to ask you something."

Worried she might see through my plan if I stayed too quiet, I forced myself to start a conversation.

"Sure. Ask away."

"What were you doing before the regression?"

"…Hmm."

It should have been an easy enough question, but Maeve took longer to think about it than I expected, not answering right away.

"Sorry if it's uncomfortable."

"No. I was just wondering whether to tell you. I'll tell you what I was doing back then."

Fortunately, it didn't seem like she was hesitating because of memories of being killed—she went ahead and told me about her past.

"Before the regression, I took commissions and hunted targets. Killed monsters, killed people. As long as the fee was paid, I killed whoever the target was."

Her real profession wasn't hunter or poet—it was assassin.

"Even after the Melting came, there were plenty of clients looking for me. Grudges had a way of taking priority over surviving until tomorrow."

How many lives had ended at her hands?

I had no way of even guessing.

"But… there was a day. Someone asked me to kill Dean."

"Me…?"

"Yeah. I don't usually memorize clients' faces, so I don't remember who it was."

The story had been flowing along, and then my name came up—I couldn't help but wonder. Who had put out a contract on me through her?

It was almost certainly someone connected to an NPC I'd killed, but I couldn't pin it down to any specific one. I'd killed every NPC in the game worth killing. It would've been stranger if I could remember.

"So I went looking for Dean… and died. Horribly—arms and legs cut off."

Even talking about her own death, Maeve let out a faintly breathless sound, a strange excitement bleeding into her voice.

"I still remember what Dean looked like then. Indifferent. Watching me with no expression at all…"

For someone who had lived as an immortal for so long, death had been a miracle she'd waited and waited for.

"You showed me I was someone who could die. You made me realize I wasn't some being exempt from the laws of nature—that I was just an ordinary human…!"

The dead light in Maeve's eyes had been slowly kindling, and now a deep flush bloomed across her cheeks.

"Dean, I like you so much…! You're the only one who can kill me! So please—look only at me!"

"Ugh—"

She wrapped her arms around my waist and pulled me into a forced embrace, and the breath was crushed out of me. She didn't even think about what that monstrous strength would do to someone as fragile as me. Pure self-centeredness.

"Sorry… did that hurt?"

Just before my ribs cracked, she released me, her voice carrying more emotion than usual as she fussed over me.

"*Cough*… I'm fine."

"Okay…"

I said I was fine and unconsciously moved to stroke her head—then remembered too late that my hand wouldn't obey me, and lowered it awkwardly.

"…"

Maeve watched the motion in silence, and something in her eyes trembled, fragile and uncertain.

It seemed it had taken her a full day to finally grasp just how terrible what she'd done to me was.

"I'm sorry…"

No longer able to pretend her emotions were dead, she offered a belated apology.