Unbelievable. Unbelievable!

I knew I looked entirely different from the way I did when he knew me, but he had no excuse to forget the way I fought.

After all, no one but me had adapted that style in the same manner as I, and I knew that Siridan wasn't the type of person to miss even one detail of any sword form that caught his eye.

Ludicrously enough, I was more upset at hearing that than about the fact that this moron killed me – at least for the first minute or so.

"Hit a nerve there? Shocker... Should've thought about it before you got yourself into a fight." He tilted to the side and smoothly sheathed his blade away, leaving himself defenseless.

If I thought I could get away with it, I would have slapped him there and then. "You have some nerve starting it in the first place. Unlike you, I didn't want my evening to look like this!"

He offered a strained, insincere, and sardonic smirk. "If you watched your mouth, old Candlestick probably would've backed the hell off. I don't think these things actually care for drinking."

Turning to squat and look at the deteriorating Sect, Siridan swatted at its remains, knocking some powder off its liquefying, disintegrating body and turning it over. He reached for its exposed core and snatched it, tucking it into his sash.

"I see. So it's my fault." My voice turned small and irate. I didn't dare to contest his words directly, but I spoke just loudly enough for him to hear a hint of sarcasm in my tone. "Might as well kill me for it."

Even though I was the one to toss it out in jest, the idea made my stomach lurch.

"Oh, I won't lie, I'm tempted. It won't be long before more of the archmage's toys come after me now that you baited me into playing with and breaking one of them." He sounded spiteful, but unlike before, he was also calm.

I said nothing. My mind was full of nasty words to throw in Siridan's direction, but I refrained from letting them out. The truth was, I was still terrified of him.

After spending so much time the way I did, I couldn't believe I managed to speak to him in the first place.

As far as old man Zakuli knew, I really needed to work in a place that would offer me a room to sleep in. From the perspective of those living in Woodknock Village, I showed up out of nowhere without anyone knowing who I was.

It wasn't entirely unusual – you'd see travelers arriving without many things on their person often, and when you get really good at giving people a stink eye, they don't ask as many questions.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

But I got a job at the inn to do more than add weight to my coin pouch. The inn was the best place in town to hear rumors and catch up on local news – and most importantly, it was the only place I could find this bastard.

He was like a ghost anywhere else. I never bumped into him once. But he showed up to the Redscale Sip every evening to have his drinks like an artificer's clockwork.

At first, I tried to be brave. I introduced myself and asked Siridan if he would like a drink in hopes of getting a chance to talk to him and understand why I died, but he brushed me off and ordered from the innkeeper instead.

Eventually, the truth became clear. Initially, I didn't even believe it. I dismissed it all as baseless rumors and accusations – but after overhearing a conversation in which Siridan coldly denied that my name was even remotely familiar, I stopped.

There was no excuse for that. If Paa'il and I were nameless strangers to him, he made a poor show of that for ten whole years.

Hearing the emotionless tone of his voice every time our names came up was like torture to me. Each incident tore apart the man I thought I knew to have been at least somewhat decent beneath all the savagery and alcohol, revealing that he was never there in the first place.

No one but a heartless killer could lie about our deaths with such conviction – and such a sinisterly honest tone.

In time, I became thankful that Zakuli was the one who needed to deal with him. His face began haunting my nightmares, and the knowledge that he could kill someone he cared for so easily made the new me feel so much more vulnerable around him.

It was just my luck that the old man had decided to leave for an errand that would last into the dead of night. He left me all alone, and now I had to deal with this – with him.

"—But, well…" Siridan began speaking again, cutting off my bitter train of thought, "I guess your distraction saved my neck there. I think I killed it before it got to see that you hit it, so you're probably not in as much trouble as I am…"

He reached a hand to scratch at the back of his neck awkwardly. Though his lips didn't shift to suit the expression, and the color of his cheeks remained as it was, his pale eyes looked down at the floor with a hint of shame.

"I think I owe you enough to let you off the hook this time," he finally admitted.

I hadn't noticed how tense my shoulders were before he said that, but as soon as I heard those words, they loosened and lowered, relaxing ever so slightly for the first time since his arrival. My head lowered, and my hair covered my relieved face like a curtain.

Slightly reassured, I lifted my head up and looked at him again, only to meet with something I didn't expect – the sight of a pinkish hue decorating his cheeks, subtle as can be, yet present.

"Alysia, was it? My bad. And thanks."

My face lit up with an irrational, embarrassed flush against my wishes. I tucked my wrists between my thighs and lowered my gaze again, avoiding eye contact and praying he couldn't see how bright it was – or the small smile that had snuck onto my lips.

What was I thinking, letting a simple sentence like that melt through my emotional defenses? My heart may as well have been in the same state as the Sect there, pierced through and forced to sizzle and melt away!

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid..!

Oh, whatever. I promised myself only to let it last a minute, but for that minute, whatever happened to the old me didn't matter. I didn't forgive him, but...

...He remembered the new me.