Some people carry guilt the same way they carry a scar.
Others… like a sentence.
And when someone believes they don't deserve to move forward, life becomes an endless payment.
A silent sacrifice.
A daily self-punishment.
Not for redemption.
But because, deep down, that person thinks this is the minimum price for what they did — and for what they can't forget.
---
The thin drizzle slid through the crooked alleys of Morrow-en, bending the broken lights and turning everything into blurred stains.
The smell of alcohol, rust, and sewage rose warm, like dirty vapor, choking Caerius as his sobs slowly faded.
He staggered through the shadows like someone trying to outrun their own mind.
The bitter sip from the almost-empty bottle didn't work anymore.
It didn't numb.
It only burned.
It only reminded.
"Naeris…"
He whispers — and then the flash hits, just like every other time:
A brief smile.
Tired eyes.
That day.
Seven years ago.
Blood.
Broken promises.
Then… silence.
"F-forgive me, Naeris… I just… I miss you so much…"
His voice comes out groggy, dragged. The only thing truly lucid were the memories pounding in his chest — insistent, suffocating.
Caerius squeezes his eyes shut, as if that could push the memories back, but they don't listen.
They leak through the cracks. They always leak.
He swallows hard, then laughs.
A dry laugh — humorless, hoarse, broken.
"'You shouldn't try to go up, Cae! It's dangerous up there!'"
Her voice echoes in his head — serious, yet carrying that soft smile. And it hurts more than any real wound.
"I get them, Naeris… but I can't move on from this guilt."
He almost collapses.
His back hits the damp wall and he slides down until he's sitting in a dirty puddle.
…
"I hate when you call me by that nickname…"
And once again, the past returns.
A vicious cycle.
---
Minutes, maybe hours pass.
Caerius stays sprawled on the sidewalk — no strength to stand, no will to go home.
All he wanted now was to stay there… still.
With nothing running through his mind.
No guilt, no responsibilities… no truth to face.
Then someone stops in front of him. Their boots splash the puddle into his face.
"Urgh… hey…! Uh? Aaah… Nemis… you again? I already understood what you meant, don't repeat that shit."
Nemis stares at him with a stone-cold expression.
"Understood my ass! You're drunk, filthy… a walking disaster! Idiot."
She sighs.
Without asking permission, she bends down, wraps her arms around his waist, and throws him over her shoulder effortlessly.
"Hey, put me down now! F-fuck, Nemis, respect my moment!"
"Shut up. You're in no condition to be left on the ground, much less to disagree with anyone."
She walks steadily despite the extra weight. People glance as Caerius tries to break free, failing miserably.
"Can you stay quiet? I'm not letting you go. Accept it. I'm not leaving you at the mercy of anyone with bad intentions."
Caerius doesn't argue.
He knows resisting Nemis is pointless.
He just huffs and gives up.
splish… splish…
splish… splish…
…
"I pity the people here… I've always thought this place was a dump. I never liked living down here. Always felt trapped. Never truly free."
His voice is serious… low, and hoarse.
"I get it. Morrow-en really is shit. Awful people, short life expectancy, no recognition. A complete mess."
She pauses for a moment — a tiny smile forms.
"I won't say I like living here, not even close. But… some people, even if few, make all of this feel less suffocating."
…
"I envy you, Caerius. You have what many here would kill for. You have the power to choose your destiny. You hold gold in your hands… value that."
She stops in front of a house, lowers him from her shoulder, and sets him on his feet.
She opens the door — it creaks. A familiar smell escapes, loaded with memories.
"Get in. You stink. Go shower."
Nemis walks inside, drops onto the couch, and props her feet on the small table in the center of the room.
The house was plain, extremely simple. A living room, a small kitchen, two small bedrooms. Enough for four people at most. Just the necessary.
"You know I hate coming here… urgh. I'd rather sleep on the warehouse's hard mattress."
Caerius closes the door with his foot.
"Naeris left this house for us. So we owe it some gratitude, don't you think? Now shut up and go clean yourself."
Caerius grumbles, kicks off his worn shoes and tosses them aside, walking toward the bathroom. But before entering…
"Think about our conversation, Caerius. That's all I'm asking."
Nemis says, without extending the topic, without saying anything else. Her eyes fixed on the TV.
He continues walking — but she knows the message landed.
…
clack.
The door closes.
Caerius sighs and walks to the sink, leaning over to wet his face, ruining it deliberately before looking in the mirror.
Another sigh.
"You must be so disappointed in me… I don't give you peace even up there, do I?"
His hands grip the sink until his knuckles turn white.
"I hate being in this house again… I hate feeling all of this every time. I… hate not having listened to you."
He releases his grip abruptly… opens the shower box and steps in.
The freezing water crashes onto his scalp, flushing away what little intoxication remained.
He stands there, still, staring at his hands stained with dirt and mud, noticing a reflection of something.
For the first time in a long time, he allows himself to think:
"Maybe… just maybe… this isn't the best way to deal with everything."
---
DUM! DUM!
The knock on the door cuts his thoughts, dragging him back to reality.
"What the hell—?! Argh!"
Caerius steps out of the shower, wraps a towel around himself, and yanks the door open.
"Nemis! Can you let me have one minute to—"
He freezes.
It was Din.
The old man stared at him with a wide, grumpy smile.
"Ah, you little brat! Nemis said you left the bar crying like a little girl and that she found you all fucked up in the mud! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Caerius is startled seeing Din sober — at least, more sober than usual.
"What's that face? You look like you saw a corpse!"
"I'm not in my best shape… and you? Weren't you drunk? Shouldn't you be in bed, old man?"
Din slaps him hard on the back, making Caerius stumble.
"My body's adapted to alcohol, kid! One hour of sleep and some food and I'm back in action!"
He closes the door behind Caerius.
…
"I'm glad you came here after so long. You… know how important this house is to me, don't you? And without you and Nemis… it isn't fully complete."
Caerius looks away, uncomfortable.
Not because he hated the place…
But because he hated himself.
For turning that home into a shrine of painful memories.
"I don't deserve to be here. I don't deserve to be welcomed in this house. I don't deserve anything that carries Naeris' name…"
…
He breathes deep.
"Don't you… hate me? I took something precious from you… something precious from many people. All because I was a stupid kid pretending to be a hero."
His fists clench. Wet hair covers his eyes.
"I tried burying it for years. I drowned myself in work, tasks, anything that kept me distracted. I thought effort would mean something. I thought if I tried hard enough, the guilt would… I don't know… lessen."
"But it always comes back. Always. Like someone punching me in the face saying: 'None of this matters. Live with the weight. It'll only drop when you die.'"
…
"I think I'm… doomed to carry this forever."
For the first time, Caerius truly opens up.
Not because people don't know why he's like this — but because he simply can't mask it anymore, not in a place this painful.
Seven years worth of weight… eventually, it just spills out.
Din clears his throat and leans against the wall beside him, arms crossed.
He thinks… thinks…
Knowing this is delicate — for Caerius, and for him.
"Naeris was always the daughter I wished I had. Sweet, kind… a little hot-headed sometimes. Hahaha… just like her father."
…
"The day she died… I hated you, boy. A lot. I won't lie. I held that grudge for a long time. But…"
He breathes deep.
"But seeing what Naeris believed in… what she meant to this place… I realized that hating you was spitting on that. She believed in the people of Morrow-en. Believed everyone here deserved a dignified future. And… after some time, I realized you wanted the same. She'd despise me if she knew I held resentment against you…"
…
"In the end… you were just a kid wanting something better for yourself, and for those around you. You wanted to explore the world, not be another one staring upward without ever reaching what your eyes could see."
He ruffles Caerius' hair.
A warm gesture, almost fatherly.
A rare calmness from that grumpy old man.
"You remind me a lot of her. And that comforts me. Caerius… forgiveness is one of the few things that can ease guilt, no matter how heavy. You have mine — and everyone else's…"
…
"And I'm certain Naeris forgave you too. Now you just need to forgive yourself, kid…"
He lowers his hand.
Caerius feels something… something light, unfamiliar.
Maybe… relief?
Maybe… a beginning?
The lingering doubt seemed to fade, piece by piece…
"You're a grumpy old man, Din. Don't start with these deep talks. Doesn't match your style."
His tone was sarcastic, humorous. But… this time… it wasn't masking anything.
It was genuine.
Everyone had peeled Caerius open, layer by layer.
The guilt would stay — but with a new understanding he never had.
Din bursts into loud laughter, grabs Caerius in a rough hug, and lifts him off the ground.
"I'm not telling you to leave Morrow-en and go to Vallum. You care about the people here — I know that. Just… stop sentencing yourself, kid."
He sets Caerius down.
"Now come eat before I finish everything! But put some damn clothes on first, you look like a pervert! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!"
He walks to the living room.
Caerius sees him arguing with Nemis — she complaining, he laughing, coughing, hugging.
And, above all…
…
plink.
A tear falls.
Not from pain — but relief.
As if, after seven years, someone finally found the right key to one of his chains.
It wasn't the end of the guilt… but the beginning of seeing it differently.
"I need to forgive myself to be forgiven… how ironic."
---
The rest of the night was quiet.
Almost a harsh contrast to the moment he stepped inside the house.
The pain and memories were still there… but they no longer pressed the same way.
For the first time in years, Caerius didn't feel like he was carrying the loss alone.
…
Comforting, isn't it?