Newfear

A single short word, yet it echoed inside his mind, colliding against the walls of his soul, reshaping it with brutal force, tearing apart everything that had once held firm inside him. It felt as if the air in his lungs had suddenly vanished, as if something invisible had ripped his heart from his chest and was slowly crushing it before his eyes. His mind refused to accept it... screamed, fought, desperately seeking an explanation… any explanation.

How? How could she do this? How could she turn from a dream he longed to make real into a nightmare devouring him alive?

But despite his resistance, his mind couldn't ignore the reality before him. He couldn't deny Rinus's bloodstained body, his dimmed eyes, his voice devoid of hesitation. The truth was undeniable.

Then came the breaking point.

Something inside him shattered. Not just anger, but a crushing sense of ruin... of losing control, as if someone had yanked the ground from beneath his feet while he walked toward an abyss.

A storm of emotions consumed him in an instant... betrayal, deception, helplessness, disgust at himself, at his blind trust, at his failure to see what had been clear from the start.

Raymond didn't realize how his body moved. It wasn't a conscious decision but a raw, instinctive reaction to the emotional chaos overwhelming him.

He suddenly turned, as if some unseen force had pushed him, and drove his fist into the stone wall beside him.

The impact was violent. Small stones crumbled, searing pain shot from his knuckles up his arm... but none of that mattered. It wasn't even enough.

He gritted his teeth, clenched his fist again, and struck the wall once more. He wasn't hitting the wall; he was hitting himself... his naivety, his weakness in seeing the truth before it destroyed him.

A growl, filled with fury and anguish, erupted from deep within him, as if it had been bleeding inside him for too long, waiting to burst. He pressed his fist against the wall, veins taut, then leaned his forehead against the stone, striking it slowly, over and over, staring at the ground, as if physical pain was the only thing tethering him to reality.

But he didn't feel the pain. Nothing he did could compare to the agony raging within him... the pain that didn't stem from wounds or blows… but from betrayal.

Raymond moved slowly, then stepped through the doorway with heavy steps, his eyes scanning the scene before him. The manor was small, modest, lacking the grandeur typical of noble estates. But even this simplicity, even this minimal order, was now gone.

Everything was ruined.

The wooden cabinet near the entrance was violently forced open, its drawers broken, as if someone had tried to yank them out when they failed to unlock them. Papers were scattered across the floor... some torn, some trampled with dirt-stained footprints. A chair lay overturned, and the small glass lamp that had always rested on the table beside the couch was shattered, its shards strewn everywhere.

There was a quiet chaos.

Raymond took it all in… but he didn't care. As if his eyes didn't truly see what was in front of him. As if what had shattered wasn't just furniture… but something deeper. Something within his soul.

He felt his body... his heart pounding violently, as if trying to break through his ribs.

Then, slowly, he looked down at his feet and muttered in a voice so faint he barely heard it himself.

"Why…?"

He said it as if not expecting an answer. As if asking the void itself, pleading for time to turn back and explain how this happened... how it all ended like this.

Memories flooded his mind all at once.

Her laughter, her gaze, the way she spoke... everything had seemed real… but it wasn't. It had been a masterful deception, or perhaps something else... something he had yet to understand.

He turned away slowly. Picking up a cloth from the table, he folded it in his hands with an odd precision, as if his mind was grasping for anything... anything to do to keep himself together. Then, he moved toward the small desk in the corner, opened one of the few drawers left intact, and pulled out a bottle of antiseptic and some bandages.

He stepped outside.

Rinus was still struggling to sit up, wiping the dried blood from his forehead. Raymond approached him wordlessly, knelt beside him, and began wrapping the disinfected cloth around his wound with calm, steady hands… but without warmth.

Rinus remained silent for a moment before speaking in a weak voice.

Rinus: "I… don't know why she did it."

Raymond paused for a moment but didn't look at him. Rinus continued, his tone filled with hesitation.

Rinus: "I heard noises coming from your room, and when I entered, I saw her rummaging through your belongings… She was taking everything of value. I tried to ask her why, but…"

He fell silent for a few seconds, then continued, as if the words were too heavy to say.

Rinus: "She attacked me with the vase of mourning lilies… the one on your desk."

Raymond finally lifted his gaze, looking at him, but said nothing.

Then Rinus added, in a quieter voice.

Rinus: "Your mother loved that vase…"

At that moment, something clenched inside Raymond. A feeling he couldn't quite name... something between sorrow… anger… and utter emptiness.

He said nothing, only turned his face away for a moment before murmuring in a barely audible voice.

Raymond: "Stay here. Get some rest."

Rinus lifted his head slightly, looking at him.

Rinus: "Where are you going?"

Raymond stood slowly, glancing toward the nearby stables before answering, his voice low but sharp.

Raymond: "I'll find out why she did this."

Rinus followed his gaze, then spoke hesitantly.

Rinus: "She... took a horse and rode off in a hurry."

He paused, then added regretfully, "I'm really sorry. I tried to stop her, but…"

Raymond didn't look at him. He only spoke in a cold, steady voice.

Raymond: "It's fine."

Then, after a brief silence, he added, "Now, I know where she'll be."

Nirosia – Inside a Tavern

The place was bustling with noise, tables packed with men drinking, chatting, and laughing loudly. The scent of tobacco and alcohol mixed in the air, blending with the aroma of aged wood and the sweat of workers, merchants, and thieves who frequented the establishment.

At the counter, Liana stood.

Her hands pressed firmly against the polished wood, her fingers tensing with every passing moment. Her strong face held a sharp expression, but her eyes showed a flicker of unease.

Liana: "What the hell is going on?!"

She snapped, glaring impatiently at the man in front of her. "Why is this taking so long? I told you, it's good merchandise... I got it from a noble's estate, that's all... Wilder!"

'Wilder,' A man across from her was massive, his heavy build leaning toward raw strength. His swollen belly strained against his leather belt, while his worn-out shirt barely contained his weight. His pale skin contrasted with his sharp features... his nose was prominent, and his small eyes moved slowly, observing the situation before he raised his mug to his lips, taking a long sip before replying in a cold voice.

Wilder: "No need to worry, Liana... There's no rush. It's not like someone's chasing you, is it?"

Her expression froze for a moment. Despite trying to hide her nerves, tension showed in the way she clenched her fingers against the counter. She tried to maintain her composure and replied in a more serious but still sharp tone.

Liana: "Cut the crap. I've been here for half an hour! Just give me my share already!"

Wilder: "Alright, alright, no need to shout," he said with boredom, turning to one of the workers behind him. He took a small leather pouch from him and placed it on the counter in front of her with a faint thud. It wasn't large, but it carried enough weight to bring a slight sense of relief to her.

Wilder: "You'll get what we agreed on… but Samuel isn't too happy about what your sweetheart did to him," he said, tapping the pouch with his thick fingers. "So, we had to compensate him… with your share, of course."

She didn't say anything. She simply reached out, grabbed the pouch, tucked it into her bag, and sealed it tightly.

Loud laughter erupted from the corner of the tavern.

A group of men sat around a round table, their mugs clinking together as they exchanged crude jokes. One of them, a man with a thick beard and unkempt hair, raised his mug and laughed loudly.

"That damn cat! This is the Fourth time she's pulled off her dirty tricks!"

Another man, leaning back in his chair, turned his head toward her with a smug grin.

"Hmm... But Liana, this time you took a really long time… haha… Did you like that bastard or what?"

Their laughter echoed around the tavern, but she didn't move.

Suddenly, Wilder stood up, the chair scraping sharply beneath his weight, drawing everyone's attention. He shot the men a sharp glare before barking in his dry, rough voice.

Wilder: "If you have nothing worthwhile to say, then shut the hell up."

A heavy silence settled for a moment. The men exchanged glances, one of them pretending to cough, while the others lowered their heads, avoiding his piercing gaze.

Liana remained where she was, her hand clenched tightly around her bag, her fingers digging into the taut leather as if trying to release her tension through that single point. Slowly, she closed it, then exhaled silently, slinging it over her shoulder.

But before she could take a single step forward, she stopped.

Wilder was watching her closely, but his voice remained calm, laced with curiosity.

Wilder: "I haven't seen you like this since your first day here, Liana…"

She paused for a moment, lifting her gaze toward Wilder, her heart still beating fast as she tried to balance her emotions.

Wilder continued slowly, as if reading beyond her expression.

Wilder: "Usually, you take the money, say something stupid, and leave, acting like you don't care about anything in this world. But now... you look like someone who just lost something important."

Liana took a deep breath, as if trying to gather her scattered thoughts. Then, she slowly sat down on the chair, as if sitting would help calm her. She placed her hands over her face, running them down as if trying to wipe away the exhaustion and confusion clouding her features.

She looked away, pressing her lips together as if the words were difficult to form.

Liana: "I... I don't know... Maybe it's because I'm thinking, or maybe because I've started to see things differently."

Wilder leaned his arm on the table, a genuine flicker of curiosity in his eyes.

Wilder: "Differently? How?"

Liana glanced at the pouch in her hand, as if seeing it for the first time, every detail now stirring new questions.

Liana: "Tell me, Wilder... why are we different?"

Wilder smirked lightly, raising an eyebrow at her.

Wilder: "Because we weren't born from the same lovely mother, hahahaha…"

Then he stopped, his smirk fading into a half-smile, as if suddenly realizing the depth of the question... one that hid more than it revealed.

Wilder: "Hmm... well, because of circumstances. Because the pain we carry isn't the same, and because we see the world through different eyes… But I don't think that's what you meant."

Liana spoke quietly, as if talking more to herself than to him.

Liana: "I think differences are what make life more complicated. You, for example, find comfort in working here, not caring about tomorrow. You laugh and treat people as if they're just passing customers in your life. But I… I can't do that."

Wilder: "I don't think it's that simple. I laugh because if I don't, I'll become something I don't want to be. We wear the masks that help us survive… But tonight, you're not wearing yours. And that makes me wonder… what's weighing on your heart so much?"

Liana lowered her gaze, whispering in a barely audible voice.

Liana: "My family..."

Wilder waited patiently.

Wilder: "...What about them?"

Liana, bitterly: "They're alive, if that's what you're asking. But life itself… isn't in them."

Wilder fell silent for a moment, trying to grasp the weight of her words.

Liana continued in a low voice, though she fought to remain composed.

Liana: "I live in the emptiness between what I need and what I can't have. My mother… works until she forgets she's exhausted. My little brother doesn't ask about my father anymore, as if forgetting is the only way to survive. And Ray... I mean... he… ah… never mind."

She stopped abruptly, as if stopping herself from saying his full name.

Wilder placed his hand on the table, close to hers but without touching it. His voice was calm but deep.

Wilder: "But I don't understand. Where does 'Ray' fit into all of this?"

Liana froze, as if those two letters alone carried more weight than anything else.

She whispered, avoiding saying his name.

Liana: "He… he's the reason I can't see differences the way I used to. I thought I understood people, understood their motives. But when it comes to him… I can't decide if he's close or distant, real or an illusion, my salvation… or my downfall."

Wilder studied her for a moment, then said in a low voice.

Wilder: "Sometimes, the people who leave the deepest marks on us… are the ones we never truly understand."

Liana finally looked at him, her eyes carrying more than she could put into words.

Liana: "Or maybe… they're the ones who understand us more than we'd like to admit."

A moment of silence passed.

Wilder noticed her hand still gripping the pouch tightly, as if afraid to lose it—or lose herself along with it.

With a small but sorrowful smile, he said.

Liana: "No matter what you're going through, remember… difference isn't always a curse. Sometimes… it's the only thing that makes us who we are."

Liana sighed slowly.

Liana : "Maybe… but I don't have the luxury of thinking that way right now."

At that moment, the wooden door of the tavern creaked open slowly, cutting through the noise.

Silence fell for a moment… Everyone turned toward the entrance, and slowly… Liana turned as well.

It was Raymond. He stood there firmly, his posture straight, his eyes empty... cold as the night's shadows. But he didn't need to speak.

Liana's eyes widened in shock. For a moment, she froze in place.

Then, suddenly, she moved. She spun toward the back door, her eyes glinting with a hidden tension, but…

"Why…?"

Just one word, but it made her pause... for a moment.