She used to be different back then. In fact, it was easy to see how much she despised the Dragonslayer. When she first met him, he was just an asshole who stole her kill from her.

She had gotten overconfident at one point and decided to take on a quest to kill a Lamia by herself. Of course, there was only so much a single half-elf could do, and if Kalaman hadn’t showed up to slay it, Armei would have likely died. Still, he had her pride, and constantly harassed him for stealing her “prey”.

Months afterwards, she would constantly encounter him here and there, and every time, she’d butt heads with him. It was pretty much a one-sided argument most of the time since he’d usually just ignore her.

Armei didn’t know when her feelings started to shift. At one point, she ended up joining Kalaman’s party ... though it was more accurate to say that she just followed him around everywhere. Maybe it was then?

Maybe it was when she saw him run into a cave full of goblins by himself without any shred of hesitation. Armei remembered thinking about how hopeless he was. She felt like she needed to keep an eye on him from then on.

Maybe she’s felt that certain way towards him from the very start.

There wasn’t one singular moment that she realized. At some point, she just noticed that she did, and accepted it as how it was. Armei kept pretending to hate him, but she knew that it didn’t really fool anyone. Ques and Remina caught on very quickly, and while it took Jarvarax a while to get it, he eventually realized too.

Kalaman might’ve known. It was hard to get a read on him.

That was frustrating for her. All these years of being by his side, and she has barely any idea what he’s thinking.

But it wasn’t like she was entirely dense. Even she could tell a few things.

She knew that he didn’t really care much about the quality of his equipment, and used anything he had on hand. Jarvarax was quite chaffed about it, and regularly replaces his blades every now and then.

She knew that he had trouble with his sense of direction. He couldn’t read a map to save his life, and would often get lost. He’d split up from the rest of the party and wander off to gods knows where.

She knew how little he cared about politics. He never recognized any noble he met, no matter how powerful they were. Their agendas and schemes went through one ear and out the other. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested, it’s just that he found it hard to understand. Funny. The hero of the Mambhaling Civil War probably didn’t even know what caused that war to begin with.

She knew how selfless he was. He wouldn’t care how many wounds his body bore, his first priority after every fight was to assess everyone else’s conditions. If there were potions, he’d make everyone else use it first. It was noble, in a way. But she found it sad more than anything else. She wanted him to treasure himself more, after all.

She knew how he hated wearing cloaks and hoods. He kept complaining about how it impedes his combat ability and field of vision. A bit of stuffiness never really caused him that many problems in the end, but he never really warmed up to covert operations either.

She knew how he disliked taverns. The food and drinks were fine, and the noise he could live with. It was the songs that earned his ire. Specifically, songs sung about him. She never understood why he hated them so much. She thought they were great.

She knew how anti-social he was. He’d never talk more than he needed to, and often ignored everyone else. In the end, the rest of them had to do the talking for him. This was one of the reasons which led to him gaining so many enemies, but he didn’t seem to mind at all.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

There were so many things she knew about him. There was no one she watched as closely as she watched him. She’s watched him for years now. There was a lot about him she didn’t know, and a lot about him that she did.

She knew that he was incapable of love. He was a broken man, a cracked vase whose contents spilled out. Incapable of mending himself, he instead threw himself over and over again to adversity. Perhaps the reason why Armei was drawn to him was because she wanted to help him.

She eventually figured out her feelings towards him. And at the same time, she realized that it would be the same as it was before: completely one-sided.

But even if he never looks her way, it was fine. As long as she was there, then maybe one day, those shards will once again be a beautiful vase. That was all she wished, nothing more.

Then, a cleric came. In an instant, Kalaman was acting in a way he never acted before. He spoke to her, not as a means to an end, but simply to make conversation. He invited her to the party, when everyone else had chosen to follow him despite him not asking them to. And when he looked at her, he didn’t see through her like he did with Armei.

Was it some sort of charm? Some strange magic? No. As a sorceress, Armei would be able to tell. It could have been some other arcane art that she was unaware of.

But the simplest, most straightforward answer was the one she didn’t want to be true.

In all honesty, she was the easiest suspect. Now that all other options have been eliminated, the female assassin could be no one else. Yet Armei had her useless pride.

It wasn’t set in stone yet. There was counterevidence in her favor, at the very least. If she had more evidence, then she could justify it. Deep down, she realized that the reason she was investigating the crew was to narrow it down to the suspects she wanted. Otherwise, if she pointed at her without any evidence, then it would be easy to say how her jealousy was clouding her.

The elves were prideful people, though she was only half born. She isn’t doing this to earn Kalaman’s affection, she was only doing this because she wanted to do something for him.

She wanted to prove her bias towards him was unconditional.

†

She was just tired, surely. A bit of rest, and Armei would be back to normal. With that in mind, she went back to their shared room. There, Remina was on the floor, doing what seemed like inventory as she perused through her bag. Perhaps she finally decided to help Jarvarax a bit. Kalaman was there, too, sitting on his bedside, not doing much of anything. Lately, he’s been doing this a lot, and it worried her. The bags under his eyes were a shade darker, and he looked absentminded.

“Oh, hey, Mei!” Remina waved as she greeted, but immediately went back to doing inventory. Armei didn’t have the energy to respond in kind. Instead, she walked towards Kalaman.

“Kalaman, you look awful right now,” Armei said, her voice softening as she stood beside him. “Is ... is the assassin problem getting to you?”

“Does it look like it’s getting to me?”

“No. I figured.” She scratched the back of her ear and chuckled weakly. She just wanted to do something ... anything for him, but she couldn’t do even this much. “Well, if you need me, then just ask.”

She walked towards one of the beds, ready to lay down and sleep.

“Hey,” he called out.

Tug. Something inside her goes quiet.

“Yeah?” Armei’s head turned to him faster than she could think. She didn’t feel as lethargic anymore all of a sudden.

But that wouldn’t last long.

“Do you know where Nentonia went?”

The weather was getting stormier outside, but even its raging winds became muted and dull to Armei. She felt her own body get heavier. The sways of the ship seemed stronger, too. Was it because of the storm?

Nentonia. She’s never heard him call anyone by their name before.

“...You’re looking for her? Why?” Armei asked.

“Just curious.”

Wrong. Kalaman was never curious. Especially when it came to people. Maybe all of this was a dream. A nightmare. Maybe she was so tired that she fell asleep the moment she got to the bed.

Why won’t she wake up, then?

Even Remina found this strange. She just stared at them, her gaze jumping between Kalaman and Armei with worry and anxiousness plastered across her expression.

“Elf, answer me.” Kalaman’s voice rose a bit.

...

What the hell was she doing, letting her own sentiments get in the way? She wasn’t like this. Armei was a more logical person than this.

It was her duty to do what needed to be done. Pride had no room here.

The answer should’ve been clear from the very beginning.

“I don’t know, sorry,” Armei replied. Then, taking a deep breath, she began walking towards the door.

“Mei? Where are you going?” Remina called out with her slightly quivering voice.

“The upper deck,” she replied. “Just gonna watch the storm, that’s all.”

Armei’s footsteps were heavy against the wood. Truth be told, her head was still dizzy. She was nowhere near top form. But it was fine. The wind was cold, but her entire body felt strangely warm.

She grabbed the staff that was slung behind her back.

She was going to wake up from this nightmare.