HPV 89

Experiencing a teleportation spell for the first time was dizzying yet mysterious.

But in truth, it wasn’t actually my first time.

I had gone through something similar twice before.

From Gerenique castle in the North to the capital in the South-Central region, teleportation points were set up, and mages would send people through them.

Until the next teleport was ready, we would rest in the intermediate cities.

Compared to all the nights spent camping during those months, this felt like a triumphant return.

The journey there and the journey back were completely different.

We no longer had to hide who we were.

“The old men at the Magic Tower won’t have any choice. They’ll have to let me out more often now.”

Penzey, who wasn’t even someone to care much about the rewards promised to the Hero’s party, was the most excited of all.

The High Priest would return to the temple, basking in his personal glory.

The rest—Paronai, Bzhan, and Banwes—were each to receive treasures and what they needed most.

Paronai would be given the title of Royal Paladin. Bzhan would be made an honorary noble. Banwes would be granted land where he could live out his days in freedom, no longer hunted or imprisoned.

“They say it’ll only take a week to get back. Can you believe that? It took us three months on foot to get here.”

Even as Paronai leaned heavily on Penzey for support while climbing into the carriage, his mouth didn’t stop running.

“Maybe the journey dragged out because I was too weak.”

“That was three months ago, Ria. If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have even made it back from the Black Dragon’s nest. You’re the one who made the sacrifice, remember?”

I flinched and averted my eyes. Banwes wasn’t in the carriage.

For now, I could only be relieved about that, though it left a bitter taste.

“Back then, teleportation wasn’t an option.”

Penzey continued, explaining lightly.

“If you want to understand teleportation easily, think of it like playing catch.

The mage at Gerenique throws us, and another mage stationed at our destination, like Hobina Territory, catches us.”

That’s how teleportation normally works…Penzey trailed off, his gaze brushing my face.

At last, he brought up the topic he had been holding back, waiting for me to answer.

How had I, who had been left at the castle, teleported to the Black Dragon’s nest?

“It was the power of the Rohin Spirit.”

Unfortunately for Penzey, I had nothing else to offer. But showing obvious ignorance would only seem more suspicious, so I had no choice but to pretend.

The carriage rolled into a village. It was a village none of us had stayed at before.

“Yuri will let us go to the tavern today, right…?”

Penzey’s excitement about celebrating their return was practically overflowing.

Paronai cheered too, shouting, “Yeah, let’s have some fun!” even though he still wasn’t well enough to walk properly.

Yeah, I should enjoy it too. The Black Dragon was dead, and the demon inside me had vanished. I wasn’t exactly free… but still, I had survived two major crises!

The group scattered into the village, but I didn’t follow. Bzhan stayed by my side, silently keeping an eye on me.

I sat down by the village gate and stared off into the distance. It felt strange.

Normally, I could easily spend hours following cracks in the ground or watching ants scurry about.

But right now, none of it was fun. How long had I been sitting there?

I narrowed my eyes.

Across the wide blue plains, I spotted a tiny moving dot—and leapt to my feet.

The large figure grew clearer as he approached.

Even from afar, I could see his crimson eyes widen when he recognized me by the gate.

He began running.

Wait—he’s coming way too fast!

I wasn’t mentally prepared at all. What was I supposed to say once he reached me?

While I panicked, he kept barreling toward me, not slowing in the slightest.

My face grew unbearably hot. My heart pounded violently. Pinned under his intense gaze, I couldn’t even move.

If someone stabbed me from behind right now, I probably wouldn’t notice and would just die like that.

No… before that happened, Banwes would probably save me… right?

Huh?

He ran right past me.

Only then did my stiff neck finally turn.

I stared at his retreating back.

Inside the village, his pace slowed to a crawl—so slow even a crawling child would have outpaced him.

So he wasn’t running toward me. He just wanted to get into the village quickly…It was so embarrassing I couldn’t lift my head.

Grinding my teeth, I trudged after Banwes.

Soon, I sped up my pace. The distance between us shrank slightly—and Banwes, as if mocking me, sped up too, widening the gap again.

I stomped harder.

Eventually, I broke into a run. But Banwes was far too fast for me to catch.

He easily pulled ahead, leaving me panting and gasping for breath.

In the end, I stopped, breathless, with tears of frustration welling up.

“You don’t even know where the inn is! That’s why I was trying to walk ahead! It’s not like I wanted to walk beside you or anything!”

I hated his attitude.

But what I hated even more was myself—because after breaking my promise to him, no amount of excuses would justify it.

It was fine. There was no need for Banwes to explain anything more. He was completely fed up with me. Even if I hovered around, it would only stoke his anger further.

I fished around in my pocket and found the paper and pencil I’d been playing with earlier in the carriage.

I wrote down the name of the inn.

Since Banwes couldn’t read, I carefully sketched the inn’s sign exactly as it looked. At least he should be able to match it by the picture.

“Take this!”

I shouted and tossed the paper onto the ground. As I tried to straighten up from my crouch, I flinched in surprise.

His legs were right in front of me. Almost at the same moment the paper touched the ground, a familiar bronzed hand reached down.

Not for the paper—for my hand.

***

A rough, calloused hand clutched a pale one.

It was in that moment Banwes realized what had driven that hand to seize the holy sword that day.

The one he should hate wasn’t Riarun, who had broken his promise to survive and instead tried to die.

If his body hadn’t been twisted and monstrous like an orc’s—If he could have reached out and seized Riarun’s hand—Maybe he could have pulled him away from the sword.

No, the one he truly had to hate was himself. A monster, inside and out.

No matter how he looked at it, Riarun had done nothing wrong.

Banwes had no right to be angry. There had been no other way. And Riarun had survived.

Not just survived—he had even managed to destroy the demon inside him, using the power of the holy sword.

It was a good thing. It was a blessing.

Banwes muttered it over and over inside.

He would never again have to see Riarun twisting in pain, never again hear him sobbing helplessly into his knees.

Like a long-frozen sorrow finally melting, the heavy burden on his heart slipped away.

But when the weight was gone, something else came into view—small, yet crushingly heavy burden that had been hidden beneath it.

Now, Riarun would no longer need anything from him. There had never been much Banwes could do for him anyway.

A monster like him had no right to approach someone like Riarun. If only Riarun had some flaw, some imperfection, maybe he could have excused himself.

But his hand—it was flawless.

Smooth, straight, without a single blemish.

As Banwes held Riarun’s hand and felt the soft skin under his palm, shame scorched through him.

He was so overwhelmed by self-loathing that he didn’t even realize he was unconsciously desiring him.

He held his breath and forced himself to steady.

Then, smashing through his hesitation like a crumbling dam, he spat out the words he had been choking on:

“I was petty.”

The strength of honesty was overwhelming—something he had never understood until now.

Through the gaps in Riarun’s platinum hair, he caught a glimpse of a faintly flushed ear.

Banwes didn’t think it was because he was holding his hand. He just stared at that tiny flash of color for a long, long time. Inside Banwes’ big hand, Riarun’s smaller one squirmed slightly.

Riarun spoke quietly:

“I’m sorry… for scaring you back then.”

Hearing Riarun, usually so prickly, actually apologize—Banwes hung onto every single word, like it was a secret confession.

“Even though I survived in the end, it doesn’t mean what I did can be forgiven. At the very least, I should have talked to you about it. I should have explained everything properly. But… I was afraid you’d get angry. That’s why I acted on my own first.”

“No. Even if you had explained, I still wouldn’t have accepted it.”

The awkwardness was crushing.

The suffocating tension and pounding heart made Banwes almost regret being so serious.

And yet, he still hadn’t let go of Riarun’s hand. Riarun finally noticed the paper with the inn’s name written on it.

It had been blown a good distance away by the wind. Banwes didn’t seem interested in picking it up.