Adi bolted upright, the dry bread of his sandwich scratching his throat as he forced it down. He splashed cold water onto his face, the droplets stinging his skin, but he barely had time to reach for a towel before the floorboards groaned.
The girls were moving.
Maria burst from her room first, her eyes wide with a frantic, sharp light. The others followed in a grim procession, their silence heavier than any scream. Adi waited, heart hammering against his ribs, until their shadows faded from the porch. Then, he slipped out.
He trailed them like a phantom, weaving through the jagged silhouettes of the forest. He ducked behind ancient oaks and pressed his back against damp stone walls, keeping just enough distance to remain a ghost in their periphery.
The Clearing of Ash
After ten minutes of breathless trekking, the girls stopped. In the center of the clearing lay a mangled heap of cloth and flesh. The face was a ruin of crimson and bone, unrecognizable to any eye—save for the clothes. The scorched tunic, the frayed belt; there was no mistaking it. It was **Ash**.
Maria's breath hitched, a strangled sound escaping her throat as she recoiled from the carnage. But the others? They stood like statues carved from ice. No tears, no prayers. Just a chilling, clinical observation.
One of them reached into the tattered pocket of the corpse's jacket, her fingers steady as she unfurled a blood-stained scrap of paper.
The Final Note
"Hi, I'm Ash. If you're reading this, it means I'm already dead. I gave my guild card to a person with sky-blue hair and green eyes. Do not trust them."
The Hidden Architect
From behind the gnarled trunk of an oak, Adi watched the scene with a cold, hollow clarity. He didn't need to hear their whispers to feel the rot in the air.
*"I'm glad…"* Adi breathed, his voice a mere vibration in the wind. *"I'm glad I had the foresight to write that letter. Because in this world, a man's life has no weight. Only his utility."*
He turned away, leaving the "mourners" to their silence. As he walked back toward the hotel, his gaze drifted to the vast, indigo sky. It was beautiful, yet it felt like a canvas with a hole ripped through the center.
*"So that's the game,"* he mused, a bitter smile touching his lips. *"They don't want me. They want a battery. A tool to fuel their growth."*
He thought of his previous life—of the girl who had reached into his loneliness and made him feel human. He had lost her, too.
*"Perhaps it's better this way,"* he whispered to the empty air. *"If no one loves you, no one has to suffer when you finally break."*
The Mask and the Mirror
The truth was a jagged pill. Earlier that day, Adi had slaughtered a goblin, dressing the creature in his own discarded garments before crushing its features with a magically propelled boulder. A perfect double. A perfect exit for "Ash."
Back in the safety of his hotel room, Adi lay on the bed. He turned toward the mirror, and finally, the dam broke. Tears tracked silently down his face, not for the man he was pretending to be, but for the life he had lost and the girl he would never see again.
The door creaked open. The girls were back.
"Ah, crap," Rem's voice sliced through the quiet, dripping with annoyance. "We went through all that trouble just for this pathetic Adi? Waste of time."
"Now, now," Masha chided, though her voice lacked any real warmth. "Don't speak like that. We still need a man to carry the gear, manage the chores, and cook. He helps the party grow."
Adi lay perfectly still, his breath shallow, absorbing every sharp word like a needle to the skin.
"Let me check if he's actually asleep," Maria whispered. She leaned over him, her shadow falling across his face. She saw the damp tracks on his cheeks, the slight tremor of his lashes. She knew he was awake. She knew he was crying.
She said nothing to the others.
The Awakening
*'A resource. That's all I am to them,'* Adi thought, his grief hardening into something cold and metallic.
As the girls moved to the other side of the room, his hand brushed against something cold on the floor. A sword. It was an old, unremarkable blade, likely dropped in their haste, but as his fingers closed around the hilt, a jolt of electricity surged up his arm.
The air in the room seemed to thicken. The shadows beneath the beds lengthened, and for a moment, the heavy silence of the room was replaced by the faint, rhythmic thrum of a war drum.
Adi gripped the leather-wrapped handle, and his reflection in the mirror changed. His eyes didn't just look green—they burned with a faint, ethereal light. He felt a weight on his shoulders he hadn't felt before, the phantom pressure of armor and the instinct of a killer.
"What the hell is going on…?" Adi gasped, his voice sounding deeper, echoing as if from a great distance.
He didn't just feel like a man holding a sword. He felt like a king reclaiming a throne. And in the corner of the room, Maria froze, her eyes locking onto the blade in his hand as she realized the "resource" had just grown teeth.