“So you’re telling me that you pulled an isekai on me without having a truck kill me?”

“You watched too much anime dude…” I replied, trying to sound as derogatory as I could even though it was me who introduced ‘cultured’ media to him.

Of course, it’s disappointing to mention it now, but harems and loyal lovers were implausible no matter what world it was. As for becoming overpowered in a blink of an eye, that was also implausible. Everything was built upon knowledge and nothing could surpass experience.

No swordsman became strong just from swinging a sword a million times in a day. At the end of the day, the swordsman will have destroyed their rotator cuffs and shoulders while not knowing how to work a sword. To swing a sword was something anyone could do. It didn’t matter how much you mindlessly practiced it if you didn’t know the context of ‘Why?’

“Let me get this clear, you brought me back from the grave because you felt like it?” he asked.

But before I could answer, he already shot another reply having figured out the answer to his own question.

“You’re a piece of fucking genius…and also, fuck you.” He drew his two middle fingers. One was usually enough.

“Fuck me however you want, nothing will change,” I chuckled, thinking it was some sort of joke.

He looked me in the eyes. “I’m not joking.”

I found myself confused as to what he was on about, and yet, I felt I was in the wrong somehow without knowing the reason I felt this way. I could see it just from the way his eyes looked me dead-on.

‘He’s gotten rid of that habit of not looking people in the eyes.’

“I want to punch you.”

And again, he uttered words that no normal person would ever say, “I want to kick you.”

“Go ahead. But I don’t think you will,” I said.

He knew. He already knew, which was why he was only conveying his thoughts no matter how bland. That was how he worked. He never stated the obvious. But the obvious was:

‘It wouldn’t change anything.’

Even if he punched me, nothing would change.

Even if he kicked me, nothing would change.

That was how he denied his own pitiful existence. Simply put, he was too passive.

But I know he thinks of everything—“What shouldn’t be said ought not to be said.” But to whom he told it to, there was only one person.

I grinned.

“So, what do you think?” I asked, curious of his answer.

“You already know.”

I didn’t.

“Is it boring?”

“Why do you think?” he said, taking a seat by the stairs.

I took him up on his offer and sat beside him as I placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you satisfied?”

“If you mean forgiveness, just forget about it.”

Forget… So he thinks it’s meaningless, huh? I see.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“You sure about that?” I knew he couldn’t deny such an offer.

“What are the conditions?”

“Anything.”

He thought about it for a moment and then quickly made up his mind.

“I can do with some fried chicken.”

“You know poultry doesn’t exist here.” He knew.

“Chickens are free once they are fried, aren’t they?” He looked at me with a chuckle as his hand pushed mine off his shoulder.

Chickens… Fried… As I feared, he still spoke in this riddling of fashion.

“Cowards are freed the moment they are strangled.”

Cowards… Who was he referring to?

“What about escape?”

His eyes perked at my inquiry.

“Is freedom of body better than freedom of mind?”

Freedom…

He always said such pretentious things without a second thought.

“I see…” I took a moment to devour his intentions and came to the conclusion that it was rich coming from him.

Just because a chicken was freed, did not mean they were freed spiritually. He was implying that the freed chicken will continue living with a trapped mindset: one centering around not being caught again. It was the difference between a prisoner and a fugitive. One was physically trapped, while the other was plagued with the desperation of being found one day. And the catharsis would come only after what is to come, death.

“Hehe…”

The more I looked at it, the more ironic it was.

“What’s so funny?”

“You wanna know?” I smiled to myself, knowing that it sounded funnier in my head than if I were to say it.

“What is it?” He was confused by my enjoyment, a face that few lived to see.

I couldn’t help it.

Isn’t it utterly ridiculous?

For someone who saw school as a prison, he was awfully well-read when it came to academia. In particular, the humanities.

“You read too many of those old books,” I said.

“Mmm,” he did not deny my accusation; instead changing the topic.

“What about you?”

“Care for a guess?” I said.

“You don’t look like you’ve done drugs, that’s for sure.”

Drugs? Where did that come from?

“You say that as if you aren’t the highest person alive,” I said in tandem.

“Well, puberty is a drug.”

‘Excuses.’

“Stop bullshitting, we’re both nine years old.”

“Sure…”

“...”

A silence overcame us for a brief while until he broke it.

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Enjoy what?”

“Parents,” he muttered slowly while checking for a reaction.

‘Snarky bastard’

“It was underwhelming,” I replied with not much of a thought.

“I bet it was.” His eyes wandered away, thinking of something, and then voicing it.

“You must have been quite the loner to have the need to call for me.”

“Look at who’s talking.” I nudged his leg.

“...”

In the end, we didn’t have much to talk about. At least not as much as I had anticipated or wanted. But it was fine.

He was fundamentally still the same person. It naturally makes me wonder what he’s been through on that side…

I wonder what people would say if they saw the two of us sitting beside each other just staring off into the sunset.

*CRACK

My vision was drawn immediately to the foreign noise.

“Ma-Master?”

‘That voice…’

Her hair was still blonde as ever, with red ends just like her mother's. A mother she didn’t know.

And a daughter I didn’t recognize.

Those green pearls that reflected the good in the world had darkened with little hints of the original shine. Her eyes have aged, and her body has reached its peak state since a time I wasn’t aware of.

My mind was left empty, unable to process a response.

Sung-in looked at me, and then at the person emerging from the broken wall, and then back at me with the same confusion.

I did the same, looking between the two of their expressions before finding the resolve to say something.

“Meli—”

But before I could speak, I found something had already pounced onto me showing no signs of letting go any time soon.

I could only direct my attention to Sung-in to request backup.

But instead of the one thing I needed help with right now, he looked on with a blank face that I couldn’t interpret as he started distancing himself, sitting a couple steps down the stairs.

It was a cold hard betrayal.

'I will remember this.'