"Only after they were all dead did the superiors order me to organize and report the results. And they told me to deliver the truth to the Knight Commander first."
I opened and closed my mouth several times, not knowing how to react. But Joel, as if he no longer needed a response from me, slowly raised his head and stared into empty space.
"Isn't it ironic?"
Joel’s laugh sounded like a breath mixed with bitterness.
"Those who faithfully followed orders are all dead, and I, who disobeyed, survived. And now, I'm the one left alone who eventually has to carry the message."
His voice grew thinner. Each time he exhaled, his chest rose and fell sharply, and his fingertips trembled.
"I watched my comrades close their eyes one by one in that hellish trench. But those above only wanted a single sheet of report. To them, what mattered wasn't the death of the soldiers, but a single sentence to appease the public."
"..."
"‘The cause of death for the corpse found near the border is poison.’ They tried to cover everything up with that one sentence. To them, we were all nothing more or less than a casualty count written in a single line of a report."
A moment of silence passed. His hands clenched over his thighs until they turned white, then slowly relaxed.
"What I should have delivered to the Commander were the names of my dead comrades."
"...Joel."
"Not some talk about what that poison was like."
The inn fell silent. It was a stillness where not a single word dared to intrude. Only the sound of the soup boiling in the kitchen continued softly, as steam drifted from the pot into the air.
A dawn breeze brushed against the threshold as it seeped in from outside. Amidst that wind, Joel’s voice continued as if it might break.
"...So, I just walked out. Since I’m the only one who knows the cause anyway, I figured they could all just go to hell."
When he finally lifted his head after looking down for a long time, his eyes still burned like fire. Yet, it was a faded light, like burnt-out ash.
"..."
What words should I say?
'You worked hard'? 'It's okay'?
Whatever it was, for a person who survived that hell alone, any comfort I could offer seemed far too light. Yet, remaining silent felt like turning a blind eye to the sorrow he carried.
After contemplating for a long while, I slowly stood up. The chair made a loud screeching sound against the floor, but Joel didn't look up.
I walked past him and quietly entered the kitchen. I turned off the stove under the boiling pot and scooped a fresh bowl of soup and rice. When I brought the tray to the table where Joel sat, he looked at me with a startled expression.
"Have some more."
"...Pardon?"
"If you're going to tell the world to go to hell, you need a full stomach first."
Joel said nothing for a moment. Soon, the tips of his fingers gripping the spoon were trembling ever so slightly.
"...Aren't you... going to blame me?"
I shrugged at his question.
"Why would I? If I were to blame anyone, it would be those stupid superiors. They’re the ones who dumped the work on their subordinates because they didn't want to do the legwork themselves. They use people like that, only care about the opinions of those above them, and then blame the underlings when things go wrong. That’s just incompetence, and that’s where the blame belongs."
Joel let out a small chuckle. It was better than before, but it was still laced with resignation and bitterness.
"Do you know what's even more annoying? Those kinds of people are always the ones who survive until the end. There’s a reason people say you have to be born lucky."
When I mimicked the motion of gagging, Joel gave a faint smile at my exaggerated behavior. After catching my breath and looking at him, his complexion looking much better, I quietly continued.
"...But, you know."
"......?"
"Even though 'poetic justice' and all that sounds like a cliché, it's not like those things don't exist at all. Your Knight Commander is a regular at our inn, and at least he’s not that type of person, is he? He’s not some stiff, narrow-minded guy."
Joel’s eyes wavered very slightly. I didn't miss that expression and added quietly.
"From where I'm standing, this story will end up being on your side, Joel. So, just finish your meal."
I nudged the stone bowl toward him and went on.
"At the very least, when you're feeling miserable, you have to eat before you get angry so you feel less wronged."
Joel let out a hollow laugh as if it were absurd. But that laugh didn't last long. His eyes quickly welled up, and a hot tear fell. The ripple it made on the steaming soup vanished instantly into the milky broth.
"...It’s hot."
"Soup always tastes better the hotter it is."
He didn't answer and lowered his head. Even as tears fell, he didn't stop, putting one spoonful after another into his mouth. A faint mist, mixed with his tears, rose into the air.
I watched him in silence.
Baek Shion, the orphan.
In my twenty-four years of life, how much oppression had I faced? Of course, I had no intention of weighing whose life was more miserable between Joel and me. I couldn't possibly compare my world to his, as he had lived through much longer years. But one thing was certain.
Crying drains your energy. So before you cry, you have to eat well.
After finishing the rest of the meal, Joel took a long breath. He sat there for a while before speaking in a voice that held more strength than before.
"...I must go back."
"Alright."
As I gave a short reply, he slowly stood up and bowed his head.
"Thank you. Thanks to you, I've come to my senses."
"It was nothing. I just gave you a bowl of rice."
Joel smiled faintly. I scratched my cheek for no reason and awkwardly handed him a magic pouch containing meal kits.
"Go and give them a proper piece of your mind. It would be a shame to just run away."
He waved his hands, trying to refuse. But when I forced it into his grasp, he hesitated for a moment before finally accepting the pouch with both hands. On his face, as he bowed deeply, a resolve to return sat much more heavily than his signs of exhaustion.
The sound of the door opening and closing as Joel walked out echoed with a clack.
Once he was gone, the inn was filled only with the silence characteristic of the early morning. All that remained were two empty stone bowls, the lingering scent of food in the air, and a heavy resonance that had seeped into a corner of my heart.
Right then.
Damian, who was standing beside me with his arms crossed, slowly turned his head and asked.
"Are you not taking his money?"
"...Ah."
That's right. I gave him two bowls and didn't take any money. Even the magic pouch costs one silver. As I licked my lips in realization, Damian looked at me with questioning eyes.
"Weren't you obsessed with money?"
I wondered how he knew that so well, but then I remembered he was here even when he was Happy. That meant he must have seen me making heart gestures and talking about "love spells" in the inn. Feeling embarrassed, I scratched my head and muttered.
"Well, yes, that's true, but..."
My voice trailed off. Strangely, I didn't feel like it was a waste. And suddenly, Gilbert’s words came to mind.
'Principle isn't some grand thing. If you can sell a single bowl of rice without feeling ashamed, that’s your principle.'
"...It really isn't anything grand."
Damian tilted his head, looking puzzled.
I smiled for no reason and asked.
"Do you have a principle, Damian?"
It was an answer far removed from his question about being obsessed with money, but he didn't hesitate for a second.
"I do."
"Oh, really?"
I had tossed the question out half-joking, so my eyes widened at the unexpected answer. Damian shrugged and said calmly.
"I do not lie. Lying is the way the fearful deceive themselves."
"...Ah."
That was true. In this world, monsters instinctively do not lie. Because they have power, they only make promises they can keep. The stronger the monster, the closer their words are to the truth. Even if weaker monsters might mislead by speaking in circles, they do not utter lies.
It was quite different from humans. Humans lie for relationships, for survival, and to protect their emotions. Because they have to do that to survive.
"And you, human?"
I thought for a moment before answering.
"Just... if there's a hungry person in front of me, giving them a warm bowl of soup."
I had said it without much thought, but once it left my mouth, my heart felt strangely light. Damian snorted beside me as if he found me amusing.
"How bland."
"...Well... I suppose so."
I scratched my cheek to hide my embarrassment and added.
"And it's Shion. Shion."
Damian blinked a couple of times. He looked as if he didn't understand, so I put both hands on my hips and said again.
"My name. Stop calling me 'human' all the time. If you're not going to call me 'Boss,' just call me Shion. It’s less awkward."
After a brief silence, Damian easily agreed.
"Fine. Shion."
I was inwardly surprised by how readily he called me by name, and my eyes went round. Then, before I knew it, I burst out laughing at the absurdity of it all.
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