Sylvia looked at me with the same twisted joy. I shouldn’t have yelled. All that did was add more fuel for her to use. But, it was hard to let Sylvia so carelessly.

“My, my, you know, before he died, he gave me a brief rundown of everything you said. It’s stupid that you're following a dead person’s ideal. Why is that?” Curiosity scribbled across her forehead. It was a genuine question she wanted the answer to.

“Because of a promise.”

Her cheeks puffed up, and she tried to keep a giggle, but she failed. “You’re doing this all for a deceased person? Do you not realize how absurd this sounds?”

I shook my head in denial. It wasn’t ridiculous. I choose this path. One day, outsiders and Ionians would live together. Then, we could all live in peace within the walls. I held this ideal for twelve years and wouldn’t toss it.

“Even if it’s crazy, don’t you believe outsiders deserve to live with Ionians? Where’s the crazy in that?”

Her arms crossed her chest, tapping her bare skin. “That would be nice. You’re not wrong there. Unfortunately, it’s not up to us. Ionians—rather, SCAR has to acknowledge us as one, right?” Her normal tone threw me off. The prior, ill, squeaky voice was locked away in her throat.

I nodded, which stung a little. Sylvia was right. The man said how Ionians were terrified of SCAR and how they controlled Ionia. If they’re too scared to speak up, then how could we? No, this wasn’t up for a conversation.

“You and I both know SCAR isn’t going to do that. My, my, you said it yourself. SCAR is a power-hungry organization. They aren’t going to let potential competition freely walk into their city.”

“You’re right. That’s why—That’s why their destruction is a must.”

She laughed at my statement as if I said something foolish. “You can’t be serious! How are you, one person, going to destroy an entire military group? This is complete ludicrously!”

“I’m not sure. But it’s a must. Somehow—”

“There’s no ‘somehow!’ This cannot be done! You know the solution to the problem, but the steps to reach the solution are unattainable. Everything you’re saying is just child-talk.”

“No! You’re wrong! I’ll—”

“You’ll what?!" She said. "What are you going to do? Are you going to find a way into the walls and lead a raid on SCAR? For your hideous ideals, are you going to drag every outsider to their demise? Are you going to slay every SCAR agent alive? My, my, how dumb are you to fully believe that you can do this!” She was more upset than she was surprised.

She had another point. The more I thought about it, the more impossible it seemed. Back when we were kids, we didn’t know any better. This was just a child’s dream—a dream where the mantle was passed to me.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

Destroying SCAR would be highly reckless, a suicide mission. How could I defeat an entire army if I couldn’t defeat the agent by the house? How many times would I be on the brink of death? And how many battles would I be in? What if the parasite consumed my body? If it did... my friends could…

Why didn’t I think of any of this?

Was I so blinded by Raphtalia’s ideals that I didn’t consider reality?

“It’s impossible, isn’t it? Getting past the walls, destroying SCAR, living in Ionia in peace, is it all a mere dream?”

She kneeled to my eye level. “Jill, everything you said is impossible. You could potentially get through the walls, but even that is a task and a half. Destroying SCAR? Good luck with that. If you struggle to kill one SCAR agent, what makes you think you’ll be able to fight an entire organization? And living in peace? You’re just following an impossible ideal. After all, an ideal is just an ideal. As long as you hold onto that ideal, the conflict of reality will grow. So, I suggest you let go of this stupid ideal since, one day, you’ll have to face reality and pay the price for your choices. But that day won’t come since you're trapped here.”

She turned around and headed to the gate. Her shoulders rose, only to fall drastically. Turning around, she unlocked her squeaky voice and said, “Well then, I’m going to check on your buddy. Just sit tight. Don’t go anywhere.”

Two devils played tug-of-war with her lips. Chills crawled up my legs. The echoes disappeared the further she went.

I lowered my head. My lips vibrated against each other. My vision became blurry as cold tears filled the brim of my eyes, dropping one by one.

Please tell me that my hair covered my face. I couldn’t let anyone witness my pitiful state. I tried wiping my tears, forgetting I was tied up.

I couldn’t let go of something precious. But what if she was right? One day, I might have to face the consequences of this ideal. I might lose them along the way. I didn’t want to go through that again.

Was it worthless to do the impossible? I didn’t want to believe it, but it might be true. What if I wasted all this time, lost countless friends, and clung to a useless dream?

With my eyes shut, I cried uncontrollably, trying to kick my legs as hard as I could. My cries bounced off the walls. Beneath me was a puddle of tears along with my saliva.

What was I even born for? What was the meaning of my birth? Was it to mindlessly make that promise? Was it to drag people to their demise? Was it so a parasite could take over my body? Was it to delude my own mind? I didn’t want to feel like this. I would rather not have existed if it were to feel like. If it hadn’t been for this pitiful feeling, I would instead not have been born. If I genuinely thought death was better, then I would instead have taken that option. That’s what I thought. I had no intention of taking it back. I couldn’t. Everything I’ve done was useless. Living itself was worthless. All my life, everything I've endured led up to this pathetic moment? I haven’t been able to do anything. I’ve failed over and over. I’ve lost people over and over. Living itself was a failure. Dying itself was a failure. Then why? Why was it… why was it that… that I still wouldn’t wish I had never met her?

“Why are you crying?” asked a voice. It wasn’t the same voice as before—Sylvia never spoke that softly—and it was a voice I hadn't heard in years.

I slowly opened my eyes. It was an endless room filled with white, with a few black flowers scattered around. I was standing? I couldn’t tell if I was floating or not. My limbs were free from the ropes. I looked up and saw a girl who stood in the distance. I crept towards her. That appearance… It's so nostalgic. A little girl with blood-red hair appeared in front of me. I knew who it was. I raced to the girl and slid on my knees, embracing her with all my might. My uncontrollable tears streamed down my cheeks, sobbing as hard as I could.

“Raphtalia… how are you…” I could barely speak. It was like a demon had captured my voice and my hope.

Her soft hands stroked my head. I remembered those hands. They were still the hands of an angel. “It’s been a while, Jill.” Her voice was the softest thing I’ve heard in a while.