CHAPTER 21 — The Breaking Point
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The air in that small clearing felt heavy, like before a storm. Dust still swirled from the brief battle, and the shadows of the empty buildings around them formed dark patterns that shifted slowly with the morning sun's movement. On the ground, the bound thug still sat, his chest rising and falling with difficulty. Behind Kyoichiiro, Aetheria and Amura stood like two shadows—ready, but restraining themselves.
Kyoichiiro didn't move. His light blue eyes remained fixed on the thug's eyes—eyes that now darted restlessly, like a rat trapped in a box. He let the silence hang, let the pressure of his stare sink in slowly. This was a technique he had learned not from this world, but from his previous life: let the other person become uncomfortable with the emptiness.
Finally, the thug couldn't take it anymore. He took a long breath, his lungs burning—partly from wounds not yet fully healed, partly from the pressure he felt from the child before him. He tried to look away, but his eyes kept returning—like iron drawn to a magnet.
Thug #1: (His voice hoarse, trying to sound calm but failing) "Slaves...? What do you mean by that?"
Kyoichiiro didn't answer. He just stared. One second. Two seconds. Ten seconds passed in suffocating silence. The wind blew gently, carrying the smell of blood and dust. In the distance, Elunie—the little brown-haired girl—still sat on the ground, her hollow eyes slowly beginning to focus on the scene before her.
Kyoichiiro shifted his gaze briefly, deliberately looking around: the pile of wood from the trap, bloodstains on the wall, the second thug's body still lying unconscious beneath the mound of materials. Then his eyes returned to the conscious thug, and he sighed—like someone disappointed at not getting what he wanted.
Kyoichiiro: (Flat, but with a hint of condescension beneath) "I see. It seems difficult to get straight to the point."
He reached out his hand. Slowly. Not hurriedly. His fingers touched the thug's arm—right where the wound was, not yet fully healed even after Aetheria's treatment. The thug winced, his teeth grinding against the pain. His bound hands tried to pull back, but couldn't.
Kyoichiiro: (Glancing briefly at Aetheria, flat tone) "Your healing seems to be at an advanced stage. Effective, but not instantaneous."
Aetheria: (Nodding slightly, a little embarrassed) "Sorry... I'm still learning. Deep wounds like this take time."
Kyoichiiro turned back to the thug. He didn't release his grip—firm enough to remind that he could press harder if he wanted, but not enough to cause new pain.
Kyoichiiro: "There are many things I want to ask you."
With his left hand, he reached into the small pocket behind his jacket. He pulled out a necklace—cheap, with a worn leather cord and a small square pendant made of cheap metal, rusted on some sides. He opened the pendant. Inside was a worn photograph—a grown woman with long brown hair smiling while holding a little girl, perhaps a toddler, with the same colored hair.
The photograph was faded, crumpled, and looked like it had been rubbed many times by trembling fingers.
Kyoichiiro raised the necklace to chest height, showing it to the thug. His movement was slow, deliberate. He wanted to see the reaction.
Kyoichiiro: "Do you know what this is?"
The thug froze.
His previously restless eyes were now fixed on the pendant. His pupils dilated. His face changed—from fear to surprise, from surprise to anger, and from anger to something shattered. But then, a moment later, that expression vanished. Replaced by a thin layer of indifference—like a mask put on in a hurry.
Thug #1: (His voice rising, hoarse) "Hey—kid! Give that back to me!"
His bound hands tried to reach for it, but could only writhe in place. Kyoichiiro didn't budge.
Kyoichiiro: (Closing the pendant with his thumb, then hiding the necklace in his palm) "I'll give it back if you answer my questions."
The thug laughed. Not a happy laugh—a cynical laugh, the laugh of someone who had been deceived too many times to believe in promises.
Thug #1: "You think I'll open my mouth just because you're holding that thing as collateral? Hah. Snot-nosed brat."
He turned his face away. He didn't want to look at the necklace anymore. But Kyoichiiro noticed—the thug's trembling hands didn't stop. His heartbeat, visible from the pulse in his neck, quickened. That wasn't anger. That was fear. Fear of something he didn't want to admit.
Kyoichiiro didn't answer. He just stared. Didn't blink. He let the silence work, let the thug feel the weight of his gaze. His eyes observed every small movement: the way his fingers clenched and released, the way his lower lip trembled even as he stiffened it, the way his eyes kept shifting restlessly even as he pretended to be calm.
It seems my guess was correct, Kyoichiiro thought, piecing together fragments of information like puzzle pieces in his mind. He's hiding something. Has been for a long time. Years, maybe. And this object isn't just a valuable possession—it's the only thing left from his past. But he doesn't want to admit it. Not in front of strangers.
He took a soft breath. Then, without saying a word, he brought his face close to the thug's—only inches away. An uncomfortable distance. A distance that forced the other person to see not just with their eyes, but with their entire being.
Kyoichiiro: (Voice low, almost a whisper) "I have a deal for you. Do you want to hear it?"
The thug blinked, trying to hold onto the remnants of his courage. He stared back, trying to intimidate—but his eyes met light blue ones that showed absolutely no emotion. No anger. No hatred. Only cold calmness, like ice in winter.
Thug #1: (Sneering, but his voice trembled slightly) "A deal? Hah. Who do you think you are? A kid your age has nothing I'd want to bargain for."
Kyoichiiro was unaffected. He kept staring.
Kyoichiiro: "I know what you're hiding. I know exactly what kind of person you are."
He sighed, his tone shifting—becoming heavier, more mature, like someone who had seen darkness too many times. Not because he was pretending to be wise, but because he truly had seen it.
Kyoichiiro: "So if you lie... too bad. You'll have an unpleasant experience here."
He raised the necklace again. Opened the pendant. Showed the photograph once more—not directly in front of the thug's eyes, but to the side, so the thug had to choose whether to look or not.
The thug turned his face away. But his eyes, which had tried to stay tough a moment ago, now grew increasingly restless.
Thug #1: (Voice hoarse, trying to sound angry but failing) "What is this... you think with that cheap thing you can... ah, screw it. I don't know anything."
Kyoichiiro closed the pendant. Put it back in his pocket. He didn't push. Instead, he stood up straight, took a step back, and folded his arms across his chest.
Kyoichiiro: (Tone shifting to more neutral, like someone observing a natural phenomenon) "Fine. Then I won't force you. But remember—you chose to stay silent. I'm not the one refusing to listen."
He turned as if to leave. One step. Two steps.
The thug stared at Kyoichiiro's back. His bound hands gripped tightly. Something inside his chest felt like it was being pulled—between the desire to hold on and the desire to release the burden he had carried alone for years.
Thug #1: (Calling out, his voice cracking at the end) "W-wait."
Kyoichiiro stopped. Didn't turn around. Just stopped.
Thug #1: (Letting out a long breath, his chest rising and falling) "You... you're a really strange kid." He laughed softly—a bitter, rueful laugh. "I've dealt with many people. Killers. Slave traders. Even some depraved nobles. But never... never have I felt like this."
He shook his head, as if not believing himself.
Thug #1: "Will you even understand any of this if I tell you? Will you care? Or will you just use my information and throw me away like trash?"
Kyoichiiro turned slowly. His eyes met the thug's. He didn't promise anything with words. He just stood there, waiting.
Kyoichiiro: "Try me."
The thug stared at him for a while. Looking for lies. Looking for doubt. Looking for something he could hold onto to justify his distrust. But all he found was unshakable calm. A strange calm. Not the calm of someone who didn't care—but the calm of someone who had seen too much to need to pretend.
Thug #1: (Finally giving in, his shoulders slumping) "Alright... but after this, you give that thing back. Got it?"
Kyoichiiro: (Nodding) "I'll return it."
The thug closed his eyes for a moment. Gathering the remnants of the story he had buried for so long. When he opened his eyes again, their look was different—deeper, emptier, like someone looking into an abyss and realizing he had been at the bottom for a long time.
---
Thug #1: "Yes... you're right. That's my wife and daughter."
His bound fingers trembled. He tried to clench them, but couldn't. His hands just shook in his lap.
Thug #1: "They're already dead. A long time ago. Maybe... five years now."
His breath caught. He bit his lower lip—not from anger, but from trying to hold back something he had held back for too long. Something that, if released, would destroy whatever remained of him.
Thug #1: "I found them... in a very tragic state. Their heads... crushed. Unrecognizable. Their bodies were separated—scattered across the living room floor. Blood everywhere. The walls... the ceiling... all red."
He stopped. His chest rose and fell rapidly, like someone gasping for air.
Thug #1: "I came home then... after getting drunk at a bar. It was late at night. I could barely stand. The front door was open—it shouldn't have been, because Elise always locked it before bed." He smiled bitterly. "Elise. My wife's name. She always complained because I often forgot to lock it."
Tears began to fall. He couldn't hold them back anymore.
Thug #1: "I went inside. The lights were off. I called their names—Elise! Lili! No answer. I searched for matches, lit a candle... and I saw."
His body shook violently. His teeth ground together—not from cold, but from the memory forcing him to relive that horror again.
Thug #1: "I vomited. Right there. I couldn't believe it. I screamed, but no sound came out—just like... like someone was choking me. I ran to the back of the house, hid in the shed, and there I cried like a little child."
He wiped his face with the back of his hand—useless, because his hands were still bound. The tears kept flowing.
Thug #1: "Then... I started blaming myself. I should have been home that night. I shouldn't have gone out drinking. I should have been a better husband and father."
His voice grew hoarser. He spoke like someone raging inside but unable to shout.
Thug #1: "But fate decided otherwise. Fate decided that day was the day I lost everything. And after that... I lost my way. My life fell apart. I had no purpose anymore. I just... went with the flow. Did whatever it took to get money. Killing? Stealing? Selling children?" He laughed bitterly. "What's the difference? It's all the same. Meaningless. Because the meaning of my life died with them."
He stared at Kyoichiiro with empty eyes—but not as empty as before. Now there was something inside them: unhealed pain, self-hatred, and a question that had never been answered.
Thug #1: "Because if I don't do this... if I stop..." He bit his lip until it bled. "...I'll be haunted by their memory every night. I'll hear Elise's voice calling my name. I'll see Lili smiling while hugging her old doll. I can't survive that. So I run. Into cruelty. Into brutality. Because there, I don't have to feel. There, I can die slowly without ever realizing I'm dying."
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Silence followed his words.
Behind Kyoichiiro, Aetheria covered her mouth with both hands. Her eyes were wet. She couldn't speak. Amura, usually quick to comment, was also silent. His hands clenched at his sides, but he didn't interrupt. His earlier anger slowly transformed into something more complicated—something he couldn't name.
Because this story wasn't about a monster. It was about a broken human. About how pain could turn someone into something they themselves never wanted to become.
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Amura: (Finally unable to hold back, his voice sharp but not as harsh as before) "Enough. Your sob story won't change anything. You're still trash."
He stepped forward. Not to attack, but to say something.
But Kyoichiiro extended his hand to the side, stopping Amura's advance.
Kyoichiiro: (Without turning, voice calm) "Calm yourself, Amura. Let him finish."
Amura: (Still annoyed, but not stepping further forward) "Are you sure about this guy, Kyoichiiro-san? You want to believe the words of trash like him?"
Kyoichiiro sighed. His shoulders dropped slightly—a sign that he, too, felt the weight of this story, even if he didn't show it.
Kyoichiiro: "We don't need to believe him. We just need to listen."
Amura stepped back, but his eyes remained sharp on the thug—not with hatred anymore, but with something more complex: a reluctance to sympathize, yet unable to fully refuse.
Kyoichiiro: (To the thug) "Is that all?"
The thug lifted his head. His face was wet, but he no longer tried to hide it.
Thug #1: "No. There's one more thing."
He took a deep breath.
Thug #1: "I... got information. About the organization that pays me to do this." He clenched his fists. "They're also the ones who killed my wife and daughter. I don't know for sure, but... all the clues point that way. The magical aura left in my house is the same as what they use for that girl's chain."
He nodded with his chin toward Elunie.
Thug #1: "But I can't get into their zone. That place is sealed tight. No gaps. Even me, who's worked for them for two years, have never been allowed into the central area."
He looked up, his eyes searching for something—perhaps hope, perhaps sympathy, perhaps just acknowledgment that he wasn't alone in his hatred.
Thug #1: "I also don't know the exact location. They move often. But there is one place that might work... underground. An empty house. Uninhabited. That's where they gather the 'merchandise' before shipping to the black market."
Kyoichiiro listened without interrupting. His eyes didn't blink, recording every detail. Not just the words, but also the tone of voice, facial expressions, hand movements—he absorbed it all as data.
Kyoichiiro: "How do we get in? Who can be contacted?"
The thug sighed. He began to explain—about hiding places, about the codes used, about the "mysterious merchant" who sold weapons in the underground market, who to meet, what password to say, about delivery routes, guard rotation schedules. He poured it all out quickly, like someone who had held back a flood for too long and whose dam had finally burst.
Kyoichiiro didn't ask further. He just listened.
Thug #1: (After finishing, his voice exhausted) "That's all I know. Any more than that... I can't help."
Kyoichiiro nodded. He stood, straightened his slightly dusty robe. The necklace was still in his pocket.
He took it out. Tossed it into the thug's lap.
Kyoichiiro: (Flat) "My promise."
The thug caught it with his bound hands, nearly dropping it. He clutched it tightly to his chest, like someone holding onto the last remnants of his shattered world.
Kyoichiiro also tossed a small pouch of coins—heavy, containing about two hundred Zeyn coins, maybe more. The thug caught it reflexively, then stared at the pouch in surprise.
Thug #1: (Confused) "This... what is this?"
Kyoichiiro: (Already turned away, but answering without looking back) "Compensation. For answering my questions."
Thug #1: "But—I—you saw what I did. I tortured that child. I—"
Kyoichiiro: (Interrupting, voice flat) "I know."
He paused for a moment.
Kyoichiiro: "But you're also a human being who lost everything. That doesn't justify your actions, but it explains why you're here." He turned halfway, just enough to see the thug from the corner of his eye. "That money is enough for a few days. Maybe to start over. If you want to."
The thug fell silent. Tears fell again—not from sadness, but from something more complicated. Guilt. Regret. A hope he didn't deserve to feel. He clutched the necklace and the coin pouch tightly, not knowing what to say.
---
Kyoichiiro walked away from the thug, heading toward Elunie—the little girl still sitting on the ground, the magic chain still coiled around her neck, her hands and feet still bound.
Aetheria followed behind, her eyes occasionally glancing at the thug with an expression she couldn't explain. Amura did too, though he still wore a cold face, his steps slightly heavier than usual.
Aetheria: (Whispering to Kyoichiiro, hesitant) "Kyoichiiro-san... are you sure?"
Kyoichiiro: (Glancing back, smiling faintly—a rare smile from him) "Yes. It's fine, isn't it?"
Aetheria: (Her face flushing slightly, but she nodded) "Alright then."
Amura, on the other hand, only shot the thug one more sharp glare before turning away. His look said: if you're lying, you know the consequences. The thug could only bow his head.
---
Kyoichiiro stopped in front of Elunie. He crouched, lowering himself until his eyes were level with the little girl's.
The little girl looked up. Her face was still covered in bruises, her lip split, her tangled brown hair covering part of her eyes. Around her neck still coiled the deep purple chain—the magic chain that prevented her from escaping. Her hands were tied behind her back, her feet bound as well.
She wasn't crying. She just stared.
Kyoichiiro: (Voice calm, unhurried) "Are you alright?"
Elunie didn't answer. Her hollow eyes were now beginning to focus—on Kyoichiiro's cold but not cruel face, on his light blue, calm eyes. She moved her lips, but no sound came out.
Kyoichiiro didn't push. He just waited. Giving her time.
Ten seconds passed. Twenty. Elunie remained silent, but her eyes—her eyes spoke. There was fear there, but also a question: will you hurt me too?
Kyoichiiro: (Exhaling softly) "Wait a moment."
He pulled out a small knife from his belt—not the katana, but an ordinary folding knife he had bought at the market. His movement was slow, deliberate, so as not to startle the girl. With steady hands, he cut the rope binding Elunie's wrists. One by one. Slowly. Not rushing. He didn't want to hurt her already chafed, small skin.
The first rope broke. Elunie's right hand was free. She didn't move it immediately—just stared at her own hand, as if forgetting she could move it.
Kyoichiiro continued to the left hand. Then to her feet. Each cut was followed by a short pause—giving the girl time to process what was happening.
After all the ropes were removed, Kyoichiiro faced the chain around her neck. Remnants of purple magic still flickered on the metal surface, sending small, unpleasant vibrations through his fingertips as he touched it.
Kyoichiiro: (Pulling out a black key with a skull design) "This is the last one."
He inserted the key into the lock. Felt the key's teeth engage with the mechanism inside. A perfect fit.
He turned it to the right.
Click.
The chain opened. The purple glow around Elunie's neck faded, then vanished like smoke blown by the wind. The iron chain fell to the ground with a metallic clatter—a sound that felt very real in the morning silence.
Aetheria smiled in relief. Amura did too—though he tried to hide it by turning his face away.
Kyoichiiro also removed the lock from Elunie's wrists—the chain connecting her hands to her neck. One by one. After everything was free, he slid the remaining chains off the girl's body and tossed them aside. The sound of metal rolling on the stony ground.
Kyoichiiro: (Standing, his voice slightly softer than usual) "You're safe now."
Elunie didn't move immediately. She looked down, staring at her freed hands—her small hands, covered in scars from the bindings, but now no longer tied. She moved her fingers one by one, like someone just realizing she could still move. Then she touched her neck—where the chain had been. The red marks on her skin were still visible.
She looked up. Her eyes met Kyoichiiro's. For the first time, there was something there—not fear, not emptiness, but a small light. Very small. Barely visible. But there.
Kyoichiiro: "Oh, by the way, what's your name?"
He hadn't finished asking.
Suddenly, Elunie lunged. Not to attack, not to pounce—but to hug. Her small arms wrapped tightly around Kyoichiiro's waist, her face pressed against his stomach, and she didn't let go.
Kyoichiiro froze. His hands lifted slightly, not knowing where to put them.
Kyoichiiro: (Confused, slightly awkward) "U-um...?"
Elunie: (A small voice, barely audible, but she repeated her words twice) "Elunie... Elunie."
Her name. Twice. Like a mantra she whispered to remind herself that she still existed. That she could still be trusted.
Aetheria, watching the scene, pouted. Her cheeks puffed out slightly, her eyes narrowed. It wasn't clear whether she was jealous or just feeling strange. Amura, on the other hand, remained silent with an unreadable expression.
I didn't expect this, Amura thought to himself. He's been hugged by a girl twice in a short time. First Aetheria. Now Elunie.
He glanced at Aetheria. Aetheria, who was still pouting, noticed his gaze, then stared at Amura with displeased eyes. Amura only smiled wryly and quickly looked away.
---
Kyoichiiro, still standing stiffly with Elunie hugging him, finally sighed. He didn't push the girl away—he couldn't bring himself to, perhaps—but he also didn't return the hug. His hands just stayed at his sides, resigned.
Kyoichiiro: (Finally speaking, trying to steer the atmosphere back to something more practical) "Alright... we should rest first. Gather our energy. The day is still long."
Aetheria: (Still pouting, but nodding) "Agreed."
Amura: (Sighing, his shoulders dropping) "Yes. This has been exhausting. Seeing so many things that annoy me."
Kyoichiiro glanced down at Elunie, still clinging tightly to him. He didn't know what to say. The girl didn't move, didn't let go. As if letting go would shatter her.
Kyoichiiro could only resign himself.
And in that silent clearing, under the rising morning sun, five figures—three children who had come to save, one broken-hearted thug, and one little girl who had just rediscovered the meaning of freedom—stood in a heavy silence. Each carried different wounds. Each sought a way out of their own darkness.
But for the first time, they were not alone.