SAI SHINU
The air outside the room was colder, heavier. We walked a few paces down the hall before he stopped and turned to face me.
"What happened today?" His voice was calm, but there was a current beneath it—a demand for truth.
I held his gaze, refusing to look away. "I fought your army. I lived. That's what happened."
He studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable.
Something inside me snapped. My voice was lower, sharper, trembling with restrained rage.
"You told me everything would be safe. I trusted you with everything… but you and your coward army betrayed me."
For a heartbeat he didn't move. Then his lips curved—not into a smile, but into something colder. "Yes. You are right. I betrayed you." He leaned in slightly, his stare boring into me. "What do you want from me now?"
I smirked bitterly. "You don't even feel shame." My hand curled into a fist at my side. "I want one thing. Tomorrow, I will leave this place. But Namae will come with me."
He didn't even flinch. "That's fine by me."
The bluntness of his response sank like a blade. No hesitation. No argument. No father's resistance.
He straightened, the conversation already dead in his eyes. "Do as you will. But remember, Sai Shinu—your choices ripple beyond you."
With that, he turned and walked away, his footsteps fading into the dark hallway.
I stood there, silent, my rage simmering, my mind caught between the burn of betrayal and the fragile hope that tomorrow, Namae and I would finally walk away from this cursed village.
I stood there for a while in the hallway, staring at the empty shadows where Namae's father had vanished. His words clung to me like thorns, sharp and suffocating.
"Yes. You are right. I betrayed you."
It kept repeating in my head, a poison that made my chest tighten.
Finally, I turned back toward the door. My hand lingered on the handle, heavy with everything I couldn't yet say. Then I pushed it open.
Namae was sitting on the bed, her knees pulled to her chest, waiting for me. Her eyes, wide and searching, caught mine immediately. "What did he want?" she asked softly.
I shut the door behind me, leaning against it for a breath before crossing the room. I didn't want her to see the storm in me, the way every nerve still burned from his words.
"Nothing important," I said, lowering my voice. "Just… words."
Her brows furrowed. She didn't believe me. Of course she didn't. Namae always saw through the cracks in my mask. But she didn't push. Instead, she scooted to the side, patting the spot next to her on the bed.
I sat down slowly. The silence stretched, heavy, broken only by the faint wind outside.
Her hand brushed mine—hesitant at first, then firm. "Sai… you don't have to carry everything alone."
The irony of her words nearly broke me. I wanted to tell her everything—that her father had admitted betrayal without shame, that tomorrow I'd leave, that I'd demanded she come with me. But the thought of the fear that would paint her face, the weight that would settle on her shoulders… I couldn't. Not yet.
So I squeezed her hand back instead. "I know."
We sat there quietly. I could feel her warmth against me, fragile but steady, and for the first time since stepping into that arena, my heart eased.
But deep inside, I repeated the vow I had already made:
Tomorrow, I'll take her away from here. No matter what it costs me.