Chapter 76: Edge Of Hope
She froze mid-motion, her head halfway turned toward the long bronze bell. The voice had come suddenly, breaking through the still air. At first there was no one in sight, only the faint hum of the town below, but then, from the shadow beside the massive bell, a young man stepped into view. He was dressed plainly, nothing more than a pale shirt and dark trousers, yet there was an ease in the way he moved, a kind of deliberate calm, as though the wind itself chose to slow for him.
Her eyes caught on his sharp brown hair, slightly tousled, the strands shifting under the breeze. Recognition tugged faintly at her memory. However, what truly stunned her was the sharpness in his gray eyes, though 'stunned' would be too generous; it was more like fear.
"Y-you… aren't you the guy I saw earlier with the Knight Captain?" she asked, quickly dragging the back of her hand across her eyes, erasing the trace of tears as if that might erase the moment itself.
"You remembered me faster than I had expected," he replied, leaning with casual indifference against the cold metal side of the bell, one hand slipping into his pocket as though he had all the time in the world.
"W-what are you doing here?" Her voice was tight with unease at finding someone there at all. "Are you a knight in disguise? Or did the Captain send you to me?"
"No. I'm not some knight orders puppet nor do I have any generous intention either. I'm here... because I'm interested to know what choice you'll make," he said quietly, his gaze sliding toward her without fully turning his head. His words were neither accusing nor concerned, simply… interested.
She blinked at him. "But… why? What would you even gain from this? Why are you here in the first place? Interest isn't thing that explain everything."
The questions fell out in a rush because she couldn't understand why a man she barely knew was standing in front of her at the edge of this moment.
He crossed his arms loosely, his eyes drifting upward toward the blue sky. "You know… humans are strange creatures, or perhaps the worst of them all," he said at last, his voice aimed not at her but at the empty air between them.
Her brows knitted. "W-what are you talking about? Oh... Wait are you trying to change the subject? Tell me what is you need." She shifted her foot slightly, and for a second, she realised just how close she was to the drop, only a few steps backward and there would be nothing left but air and gravity.
"We sometimes do things we later have to regret," he continued, ignoring her question. "It's not always about logic or reason. Sometimes… we just move toward an end without knowing why. And understanding why we do it…" He gave a small shake of his head. "That's the hard part."
His eyes lowered, fixing on her now, sharp, intent. "You chose to end your life, didn't you? Tell me… what will you gain from it? Is it truly a choice you made after thinking it through… or just something you reached for because the world felt too heavy all at once?" He took a single step toward her, the faint ring of his boot against the stone breaking the quiet.
She shot her hands out instinctively. "Don't come any closer. Don't... or I'll jump."
He didn't flinch, but he did stop, just enough to let her breath steady. "Answer me, then. What happens if you die today? Will it solve everything? Will it make the pain vanish? Or are you just… leaving it for someone else to carry? And tell me…" His voice softened with something closer to cold precision. "…didn't you even think about the child inside you?"
Her eyes widened, the words hitting harder than the wind. "H-how did you know? Are you stalking me? You creep..."
He looked past her, his expression unreadable. "I saw you earlier. You were talking to yourself… about things most people don't say aloud unless they're breaking apart inside. You're in pain. You're heartbroken. But none of that is a reason... not a real reason... to throw your life away."
She stayed silent, the weight of his words pressing against the fragile walls she had built around herself.
"Life," he went on, "isn't kind, and I think you've already realised that. What happened to you… it's not something I'd wish even on an enemy. But the child… the child is not guilty of any of it. It didn't choose this. And you... you don't even know for certain who the father is, do you?"
Her breath hitched sharply. When the realization sank in, her eyes widened. "H-how much else do you know? What do you even know about me, huh? Do you think you understand everything I've gone through? Of course you couldn't… you're just a guy, after all!" she shouted, her voice breaking against the wind.
"It's true," he said simply. "I don't know the details. I don't know your nights, your losses, the exact way the world hurt you. I'm not here to pity you either. I'm here to ask one thing... why choose death? Why choose it now? And more than that… why try to protect the man who broke you?"
Her lips parted in confusion. "W-what are you talking about?"
"You know exactly what I'm talking about." His gaze did not waver. "You tried to shield him. You wanted to protect him from the consequences. But you forgot something… the ones you are dealing with are the Knight Order's Captain and the Lieutenant. Convincing them with a lie is not something easily done. Trust me. If you really think you've outsmarted them, then you still need some brain power to grasp just how quickly those two work."
He turned his head toward the open sky, the light catching in his hair as he stepped to the side, giving her space without retreating entirely.
She remained where she was, the truth in his words forcing her to see angles she hadn't before. Yet, she was feeling an wave of something crashing in her chest. "Why didn't I think it before? How can I be this stupid? Of course it would have to end up like that."
"Tell me," he said again, quieter this time, "why did you try to save him?"
At first she did not reply to him, even though she already knew the answer all too well. No matter how much pain her husband had given her, she could not deny that she still had feelings for him. In the end, what she wanted most was to see him happy and healthy again. Her lips twitched into a faint smile as she looked at the young man before her. After a long pause, her voice faltered, barely more than a whisper. "…Because… I love him."
"Ah…" His lips curved, not quite into a smile, more into something like curiosity. "And what is this so-called 'love' you speak of so confidently?"
She frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I mean exactly that. What is it? What makes it worth all this pain, all this sacrifice, all this… loss?"
Her expression shifted, sorrow clouding her face. The wind caught her hair, whipping it across her cheeks, and her eyes began to glisten again. "You don't know what love is?"
"I don't," he said without hesitation. "That's why I'm asking you."
She stared at him, trying to decide whether his bluntness was cruelty or honesty. "…Love is…" Her words trailed off before they even formed.
"Go on," he prompted, his tone steady, as though the answer could be anything, so long as it was hers.
She swallowed hard. "…It's when… even after everything, even after you've been torn apart… you still want to see that person alive tomorrow."
He tilted his head slightly, studying her with the same unshaken calm as before, as though her trembling presence did not disturb him at all. His gaze lingered, unwavering, before he finally spoke. "Even if they are the reason you stand at the edge today?"
"…Yes." Her answer was faint, yet it carried the weight of everything she had tried to bury.
The young man smirked with the cold amusement of one who found truth in contradiction. "Then tell me, why? What do you stand to gain from it?"
Eska's lips quivered before the whisper left them. "Nothing. I suppose… nothing."
"Then why do it at all?" he asked, voice steady, like he was testing the fragility of her resolve.
Her breath trembled as she spoke, her voice breaking halfway. "Because… because he was someone so close to me that I cannot even put it into words. I wanted to protect him, no matter the cost. It does not matter if he believes me or not. Even if he betrayed me, I do not care about any of that. I had to."
The man tilted his head further, his expression unreadable, then let out words that froze her blood. "Then you never truly loved him at all."
Her eyes widened. Her hands clenched into fists so tightly her nails pressed against her palms. She shook her head, lowering her gaze, unable to contain the storm inside. "W-what? What are you saying? How else would you understand any of this? You know nothing... nothing!"
He sighed, slow and heavy, as if he had heard her protest a hundred times before.
"Again you misunderstand. I never said you did not love him. What I meant is that you no longer love him as you once did… or something happened that twisted your feelings until you could not even recognize them anymore."
Eska froze. Her eyes darkened, not with anger alone, but with fear of the shadow in his words.
"Do not take me wrongly," he continued, calm, almost detached, "but it is true. The decision to stand here was not truly yours. It was not born of reason. It was born of emotion that clung to you like chains. The truth is simple: you wished to die long ago. Something… or someone… kept you walking when you would rather have fallen. That reason has vanished now, and so at last you return to what you wanted from the beginning. You were never alive. You were a corpse that kept walking because you had to." His words were cold, merciless, each one cutting deeper than the last.
The breath left her body as though his words had struck her lungs. They pierced sharper than Caelum's scolding ever had. Her eyes blurred with water. She wanted to cry out, to scream, to strike him, to deny everything, yet no sound escaped. Somewhere deep inside, against her will, something in her admitted he might be right. It was a truth she had always hidden from herself, the truth she buried the day she had given her body to another man while her husband rotted in chains.
Had she really wanted to die all this time?
She did not know. She could not know.
Her thoughts tangled, choking her. Before she could unravel them, the young man's voice cut again. "You lived this long because you clung to a reason. Perhaps it was to protect him, perhaps it was something else. But now he has abandoned you. And so the reason is gone. What you are doing now is nothing but surrender, the final act of what you always wished for. And in choosing this way, you chose the most pitiful path. You let grief blind you, you let deception twist you, you let sadness consume every fragment of clarity. You even convinced yourself the child was not his… when all of that was nothing more than fear."
Her lips trembled. She wanted to cry, but no sound came. She pressed her teeth against her lower lip until it hurt. His words were merciless, yet they held a terrifying sense. She asked herself, through the haze of her despair... had she ever thought it through?
Now that she forced herself to think clearly, the answer horrified her. No, she had not. She had been blinded by grief and pain and rage. She had chosen the worst path she could have chosen.
He stepped closer, his voice low, pressing against her heart like a blade of ice. "Is it so difficult for you to grasp? Then let me make it plain. The only reason you long for death is because you have no hope left. People do not survive without reasons. They need them... small or great, even if they appear insignificant. You lack one, and so you cling to despair."
Her eyes locked onto him. Her chest rose and fell unevenly, her throat too tight to allow words to pass. The longer he spoke, the more distorted everything became, as though the ground beneath her was shifting. She wanted to answer, but her voice betrayed her. The words stuck like stone in her throat.
Then, without warning, he asked, "Do you know how a child is born?"
She blinked at him in confusion, her broken thoughts unable to follow. For a moment she thought him mad. What kind of question was that now? Did he mock her? Did he not already know?
Her cheeks burned with shame as she stammered, "By… by doing a few things…"
He almost smiled, but it was too thin, too sharp. "Good. You are well taught. But you forgot the most important part. Who was the first man you gave yourself to? Who?"
Her chest tightened, and she stared at him as though his question was an intrusion. Yet even in the weight of her trembling emotions, she whispered, "My husband, of course."
He exhaled, almost like he had been waiting for her to say it. "Then what are the chances the child is his? Greater than you let yourself believe. Far greater. You knew this. Somewhere inside, you knew. Yet you chose not to see it. You blinded yourself and picked the path that would destroy you the fastest."
Her hands shook. Her entire body trembled. Why had she not thought of it before? He was right. The first man… the most likely. How could she have ignored it, buried it so completely that she convinced herself otherwise? How could she have been so blind?
Had she wanted to end her suffering so badly that she let herself cling to lies? Was her death truly what she longed for all along?
Her heart ached with no answer.
The young man's eyes never wavered. His voice dropped, softer but far colder. "Listen carefully. If you wish to die here, I will not stop you. That is your choice, not mine. I am no judge over whether you live or die. But ask yourself one thing before you let go. Can you truly say you will not regret living? That even in this cruel world there could not be, somewhere, someday, a moment worth waiting for?"
A dark smile curved across his lips."The world is suffering. It always was, and always will be. But even amidst suffering, there are moments… fleeting, small, almost hidden. Those moments are what you run from. But if you endure, if you crawl through pain, one day such a moment will appear."
Eska's chest constricted painfully. She wanted to scream, to sob, to throw his words back at him, yet her body betrayed her. His truth pressed down upon her, unrelenting, and all she could do was stand trembling before it.
"As I told you already," the young man spoke again, his voice light but steady, as if he were merely stating something obvious, "the only thing you need now is a new hope… something to anchor yourself to this life. Hope never comes easily, and it will not appear simply because you demand it, but it can be found, even in places you least expect. That hope is already inside you, waiting. The child can become that hope. A reason to breathe again, a reason to take one more step tomorrow. Think about it carefully, Eska. Think before you throw everything away." He finished with a bright, unbothered smile that almost felt cruel in its ease.
Her lips parted, but she could not answer. Could she? The question echoed inside her like a whisper carried by the wind, circling her thoughts, refusing to leave. Could the child truly become her reason? There was, after all, a great chance that the father was her husband.
The young man had reminded her of something she had hidden from herself, and now that it had been spoken aloud, it seemed painfully clear. Yet what unsettled her more was not the child, but his earlier words. Did she always want to die? Had she been carrying death with her from the beginning?
Her memories came flooding back in fragments. The first day after everything collapsed, when despair had swallowed her whole, she had indeed tried to end her life. She had stood in silence, trembling, ready to finish it all. But at the last moment… she had stopped. Why? She never understood then, but now the memory resurfaced with piercing clarity.
She had endured another night. She had cried into her pillow until her throat was raw. She had refused food, her body weak, her heart heavier than stone. And still, she had lived.
Why did she not finish it then?
The question clawed at her. Her chest tightened as though something was struggling to break out. Slowly, painfully, the truth rose to the surface.
She wanted to see him again, to see him in whatever state he was in. She wanted to protect him, even if it was hopeless. She wanted to remember the way his bright smile lit up the room when he wrapped his arms around her waist. She wanted to hear his laughter, to feel the warmth of his presence, to walk outside with him just one more time. There were so many things left undone, so many small moments she had hoped for, even if she never admitted it aloud.
Her eyes widened as the realization struck. Her hands clenched tightly, nails pressing into her skin, as tears blurred her vision. Of course. It was always there, right in front of her. The reason she lived was never survival alone. It was him. It had always been him. The reason she kept walking after she first thought of ending her life was because of him. Because she longed to see him smile again.
And thus, the answer clung to her question and surfaced. Could the child be her husband's? The answer was simple. It could be, since the gap between their times together was long enough. Of course, there was a great chance. The child in her stomach could indeed be her own. If she longed to see his smile again, could she not see it within the child's smile? How would the little one look? Would they resemble their father, or her? What kind of personality would they have? Would they be awkward and uncertain like Caelum? How would their smile appear? Would it carry the same warmth as his?
Her chest heaved as if she had run a great distance. She looked at the young man, and though her tears poured freely, she did not wipe them away. She let them fall, glistening, running down her cheeks until her chin was wet. Her lips curved into a trembling smile, bright but broken, as she whispered, her voice heavy with gratitude and confusion, "What's your name… young man?"
He studied her quietly for a moment. His expression shifted slightly, as though he was about to speak, but before the sound could escape, her knees buckled. Her legs betrayed her, collapsing under the weight of exhaustion and relief, and her body tilted backward, pulled by the merciless tug of the earth. She had truly forgotten how she had been standing at the far end of the platform.
Her eyes widened in terror. Just when she had uncovered the faintest thread of hope, the cruel world sought to strip it away. She thought bitterly, perhaps the world itself had never wanted her to live. Perhaps the moment she discovered her reason, it would only be taken from her again. She closed her eyes, surrendering to the fall, bracing for the final silence.
But then... warmth. A firm grip closed around her wrist, halting her descent. She gasped, her body jerking as she hung in the open air, a single hand keeping her from oblivion. She felt the strength in that hold, unyielding, refusing to release her.
Her voice cracked as she whispered, "W-why… why are you risking your life for me?"
The young man smirked faintly, his calm unshaken even in the dangerous height. "I'm still figuring that out," he replied.
Her blurred eyes searched his face, and for a brief second, the edges of memory betrayed her. His voice carried a strange familiarity that unsettled her heart. As her tears clouded her vision, she thought she glimpsed something different... the flutter of a black coat in the wind, a mask hidden beneath a hood, white carvings etched like secrets upon its surface. For that moment, it was not this short young man but a taller figure, the very same who had once saved her from her nightmare.
Her vision cleared again, and she saw only the man before her, brown hair clinging to his forehead, struggling yet firm as he pulled her upward. Could it be? No, impossible. The man who had saved her before had been taller, broader, stronger. This one seemed almost boyish by comparison. And the height difference between them was so great that it was plain to see. And yet, the illusion clung stubbornly to her heart.
At last, he pulled her onto the platform. Both of them caught their breaths, his hand still lingering on her wrist for a moment before letting go. He exhaled lightly, then spoke in a friendly tone, as though the entire moment had been nothing unusual. "Kael Ardent. That's my name. But most people prefer to call me..."he pointed at himself with a small grin,"...the weakest adventurer in Velhart."
The absurd title drew a laugh from her throat, a fragile sound tangled with sobs, yet real. The name was ridiculous, almost insulting, but it warmed her in its strangeness. She smiled through her tears, voice soft but clear. "Thank you, Kael. Thank you very much."
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(Chapter Ended)