Raska broke the silence, her voice measured and soft—so soft it nearly faded before my senses could catch it.
"...Hah?"
My voice sounded foreign, brittle, as if I hadn't used it in days.
Her eyes were the ones that pinned me to the wall this time. They held a predatory focus, tracking the micro-tremors in my hands.
"...Oh." I scratched my cheek, feeling the stubble there—a physical record of how long I'd been hiding in this room. "The screaming?"
She exhaled, a sharp, impatient sound that ruffled the stray hairs near her ears.
"...I want to know about that too." Her voice grew more measured, a trace of embarrassment flickering across her face, as though she thought she'd frightened me. "But first... the fight in the depot."
The shift in her posture was subtle—a slight lean forward, her tail wrapping tightly around her own ankle. It was a tell. She was gearing up, ready to strike if I pivoted the wrong way.
I needed to shift gears.
I knew I was a mess, but letting my guard down had always been a fast track to catastrophe—worse than anything happening in this room.
I knew the drill.
Bury the feelings, lead with the head. It was an old habit, one I'd mastered back when I watched Sera fade.
I had forced a smile for her, purely so she wouldn't have to see me break, while inside, I was already grieving.
I'd learned long ago that my body didn't need to betray what my head was busy compartmentalizing. I tightened my stomach muscles, turning my core into a shield.
"Let me get this straight. You knocked me out just so you could interrogate me?"
"There you are, loudmouth. I thought your bad luck—or that freak ability of yours—would be the end of you. Turns out your own mouth's going to beat them to it."
I stared at her. Didn't even bother throwing an insult back. That's how a frog ends up on a cobra's dinner plate. I focused on the way her shadow stretched across the floorboards—it was long, thin, and entirely too still.
"Come on. Tell me. How did you even do it?"
I took a breath, locked the panic behind a steel door in my mind, and looked back at Raska.
"...What are you asking?"
"Don't play dumb. You know exactly what I'm asking."
"..."
"What's with the pause? Cat caught your tongue?"
"No?"
"Then?"
"I'm thinking... where do I even start?"
"Okay. Start with this. How did you manage to kill that thing?"
"...Luck, maybe?"
A snort—loud, immediate, and unimpressed. "Yeah? Do I look like an idiot? Go peddle that crap to some buck-toothed fool grinning ear to ear."
"What else, then?"
"You're a damn Wall Shadow magnet." A finger jabbed toward my chest. "Don't go calling yourself lucky, dumbass."
"...That has nothing to do with this."
"It has everything to do with this. And come on—I've seen you trip over your own boots in an empty hallway. Luck's the last thing I'd bet on you having."
"Hey—that was one time!"
"Twice. When I was looking. Now, you tell me—how many times when I wasn't around?"
"Ack! ...Fine. Skill, then."
"Skill." She said it flat, like the word itself had personally offended her. "A Level One with skill enough to solo an irregular. Sure. Then I'm secretly a princess."
"Explains the attitude."
"Watch your mouth."
"...Yes. Of course, Your Highness."
An instant death glare. A vein popped on her forehead.
"Try that again. I'm gonna wipe that smug look off your face for good."
"Sorry, sorry. Adrenaline, then?"
Another vein popped.
"That's not an answer. That's a symptom."
"Divine favor, maybe?"
"Which dumb god even gave his blessing to you, I wonder."
"...You're really not gonna let me half-ass this, are you."
"Nope."
"...Haaa..."
I let out a slow breath through my nose, the kind that did nothing to loosen the tightness sitting behind my ribs.
She shifted her weight, tilted her chin, and smiled—and I was sure it wasn't a smile at all. Not really. It sat on her face the way a blade sits in its sheath, all edge hidden under the shine. The light caught the sharp angle of her canine, a reminder of what she really was.
"Who are you? And which familia are you from?"
"Should I have to answer that?"
"You better."
She didn't say anything after that. She didn't need to.
Those amber eyes stayed fixed on me, waiting—patient enough to give me the chance to answer, but making it painfully clear that she wasn't going to let the question go.
I tried to say something, anything to get out of this awkward situation. But my mouth refused to spill the thoughts that had barely formed into anything meaningful.
Even if I tried, what was I even supposed to say?
That I came from another world?
That I died... and somehow ended up here?
That I was possessed by some weird Falna that worked without a god, despite me having no clue how?
The absurdity of it felt like a cold stone in my gut. Who in their right mind would believe that?
One thing I knew for certain: she wouldn't.
I knew Raska was a good person. She basically carried the whole party together, taking hits that were meant for others and practically saving my ass more times than I could count.
But it wasn't the only thing that made me want to trust her.
It was the little things. The way she'd quietly keep track of everyone around her. The concern she'd try to bury beneath that usual sharp attitude. The way she always seemed to notice when one of us was struggling, even when she pretended otherwise. Somewhere along the way, without me even noticing when, she'd stopped feeling like just another adventurer I'd happened to meet.
And maybe that was what scared me.
Because how far did any of that really go?
People didn't do things for nothing. There was always something behind it—an intention, a reason, something they wanted or expected in return.
Maybe Raska was different. Maybe there really wasn't anything hiding behind her concern.
But even then...
Would she still look at me the same way if I told her everything?
How much could I tell her? How much should I keep to myself?
Lying straight through it would only make this worse. I needed something that sounded like truth. Even if it wasn't the whole thing.
A partial truth, then.
Something to give her. Enough to hold on to, while everything that actually mattered stayed out of reach. But even that needed a base to stand on. A lie underneath the lie.
Right!
"I'm from the Far East."
The same lie I'd used to stop Anya from trying to munch on my head.
She rolled her eyes, her expression practically screaming, I never asked you about it, dumbass.
Seriously? At least let me line up my lies first before grilling me!
"I was—"
"Tch."
Before I could continue dumping lies like some cheap anime backstory, she cut me off.
"Yeah, yeah. Spare me the drama. I'm not here for your sob story. I want answers."
I swallowed the lump that refused to go down.
The room felt suddenly stifling, the smell of the rain now mixed with the scent of her frustration—sharp, like ozone before a strike.
I couldn't find a single opening to turn this around. She kept batting away every lie I threw at her like a damn soccer ball.
What the hell was going on inside that thick skull of hers?
"So you're from the Far East, but you won't say which Familia? That's awfully secretive... Don't tell me you're secretly a cultist."
"What?! No! Hell no!"
"You sure? You've got the eyes for it."
"I do not have cultist eyes!"
"Everyone says that right before the robes come out."
"...There's no robes. I don't even own a cloak."
"Yet."
I rolled my eyes, but they didn't quite make the full circuit—catching on the door for a beat too long, like some part of me was already checking how fast I could get through it.
But I knew she wouldn't let me. Before I even made it two steps, she'd snap both my legs and drag me right back to where we left off.
"Then explain this. Sparkly Head fighting the Infant Dragon. You acted like you already knew how it'd end. How?"
Sparkly head? Is it Bell?
"Fine. I'll humor you for that one. Let's call that 'luck.' Your favorite excuse. But, the Silverback breach. You knew it before even I could sense it."
Agh! Another home run...
"Did you have something to do with it?"
"No?"
"Don't lie to me. I can tell when you do."
"Do you think I'm lying?"
"A little."
She detected my lies that easily?! Damn.
She stared at me.
That stare could've made an innocent man start remembering crimes he never committed.
"Then how did you know?"
...Shit.
Is she really an NPC, or some detective reincarnated into this world?
Come on, brain. Give me something. I pleaded. My brain reached into the emergency bullshit drawer instead.
"Instinct."
She stared at me. "...What?"
"Call it instinct," I blurted.
"Better than me? A freakin' Level Two with werewolf blood."
Silence.
She rolled her eyes again, this time the look she gave me practically screaming, I'm not buying that.
Right. Too much. And I'm getting better at reading her stares instead of just what she's actually saying.
I rubbed the back of my neck and sighed. My skin felt clammy, my nerves buzzing like a live wire.
"Back home, I spent most of my time buried in books. Anything that had to do with dungeons, monsters, expeditions... I'd read it. Strategy, survival, monster behavior—if I could get my hands on it, I devoured it."
She didn't interrupt. She simply gave me a blank stare, weighing every word that left my mouth. The silence between us stretched, filled only by the rhythmic thrum-thrum of the rain.
"So when everything went to hell..." I shrugged. "I fell back on what I knew. That's all."
It wasn't the truth.
But it wasn't entirely a lie, either. Because I did read countless novels that included plenty of battles.
She didn't call me a liar.
She didn't look convinced, either.
Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly before she let out a quiet breath, as though filing the answer away without deciding whether to believe it.
For now...
It would have to be enough. That's what I thought. Then came the gut punch.
She wasn't done.
"Fine. Instinct. Books." Her tone made it clear she was setting that aside, not accepting it.
"How could you—a Level One, like you said yourself—stand on equal ground against that thing like it was nothing?"
This time, the whole familiarity vanished. Like this was the main dish she'd been preparing me for. She wasn't smiling this time. The playfulness was gone, replaced by a cold, surgical precision.
She'd roasted me every chance she got before. Now she was cornering me like trapped prey.
I straightened up. The bed I was on was smooth and comfortable. Yet somehow it felt like I was sitting on a rock. The ache in my chest began to creep back, a physical weight pushing against my lungs.
"I just leveled up," I said flatly, laboring to bury the question alive.
"And that freaky ability of yours?"
"Freaky—?" I almost protested, then stopped myself.
Right.
I wanted an answer to that one myself. Whatever my dumb Falna had cooked up this time, I knew damn well it wasn't normal. And unlike everything else she'd been throwing at me, this wasn't something I had an answer tucked away for.
"Okay, fair. It's creepy, even to me." I exhaled. "I didn't even know I had it—not until I picked up that severed limb."
It was true. I genuinely hadn't known. This was probably the same thing that had saved my life on Floor Fourteen—the fight I should never have walked away from. The memory of that sensation—that dark, cold surge of power—recoiled in my mind, making me shiver.
"Somehow... it felt like it boosted my strength. And senses too. All of it."
She propped her chin on one hand, fingers curling loosely against her jaw, and dropped her gaze—not lost in it, but working through it, eyes moving like she was lining up scattered pieces on a table only she could see.
Then, something clicked into place behind them.
A short breath left her—almost a laugh, except nothing about her face agreed to it.
"So you really didn't know."
She wasn't surprised. That was the wrong word for whatever crossed her face.
Raska leaned forward, elbows on her knees, voice dropping lower—not louder, just harder.
"If you're hiding something, tell me. Right now." Her tail flicked once, sharp, a lash against the floor. "Give me one reason not to take this straight to the guild."
"...Are you threatening me?"
"No. I'm asking you to trust me before someone else starts asking questions."
"What if someone else notices what I noticed? What if they decide you're an Evilus pawn? Or worse... one of their experiments?"
"So that's it?! You think I'm one of them?!"
My voice cracked louder than I meant it to, words tripping over each other on the way out.
"You think I'd do what they do? Tear through people like—" I cut myself off, jaw tight, chest heaving. The room felt even smaller now, the shadows seeming to lean in.
"Do you think I'm a monster too?!"
It came out louder than everything before it—like the question had been building pressure the whole time, and this was just where it finally broke through.
"Dammit, would you listen?! I'm saying that's what they'll think!" She shouted back.
"A week ago, you told me you were only Level One. And now you're going on the offensive against a monster that cornered all of us—a monster that played with all of us like eome freak strategist, like a veteran battle party leader. How is that even possible?"
"You called that monstrosity an Irregular before any of us knew what the hell we were looking at. How did you know what it was?"
"And the most terrifying part? It wasn't attacking us at random..."
"..."
"It was after you. Isn't that right?"
"How you gonna explain this? Coincidence? Cut that crap! If you're not gonna tell me, I'm gonna knock your teeth out and drag everything out of your mouth myself."
The words landed heavier than they should have. Because it was supposed to be a threat, but wrapped in something almost gentle.
She didn't stop. "You sucked the magic out of that thing, didn't you? How the hell did you even do that? No human should be able to do that."
No human should be able to do that.
The words didn't land like an accusation. They landed like an echo—like something already spoken once, in a place with white sheets and rain against glass, in a voice that wasn't supposed to say it either.
Monster.
I hadn't imagined this part. That was what scraped worst going down—that she wasn't guessing at something impossible. She was naming something she'd already seen.
Something real enough to leave a mark before tonight ever happened.
The question lingered between us, heavy with the weight of unsaid things.
So... she's been on my tail this whole time!