[POV: Ren Takashi] [Location: Royal Castle - Dining Hall]
The potato stew had formed a skin.
Ren stared at the bowl in front of the empty chair. The steam had stopped rising twenty minutes ago. The broth, once a hearty brown, was now a congealed, lukewarm sludge.
"It's dead, Ren," Rika said softly. She was sitting next to him—closer than necessary, their shoulders brushing. "You can't revive soup."
"He said he'd be back," Ren murmured, spinning his spoon on the table. "He's never late for food. Back in our school, he'd wake up from a coma if he heard a bag of chips opening."
"People change," Rika said, resting her chin on her hand, looking at him. Her eyes were dark, reflecting the flickering candlelight of the empty hall. "Or maybe he just found something better to eat than... this." She gestured vaguely at the hardtack.
Ren sighed and pushed the bowl away. He felt restless. The castle was huge, loud, and full of people celebrating them, but it felt suffocating.
"I'm going to find him," Ren decided, standing up. "He's probably lost. This city is a maze."
"I'm coming," Rika stood up instantly.
"You don't have to," Ren said. "You should rest. You fought hard today."
Rika stepped in front of him, blocking his path. She reached out and fixed his collar, her fingers lingering on the fabric of his uniform.
"Ren," she said, her voice dropping to that tone she only used when they were alone. "Do you know what a Rogue's job is?"
"Stabbing things?" Ren tried to joke.
"Support," she corrected, stepping closer until he could smell the faint scent of soap she had used in the baths. "I watch the back. I clear the traps. I stay in the blind spot."
She looked up at him, her expression fierce and vulnerable all at once.
"Wherever you go, I go," Rika whispered. "If you walk into fire, I'll be there to fan the flames. If you walk into darkness, I'll be the shadow. You can't get rid of me, Hero. I'm attached."
Ren felt his face heat up. He looked at her—really looked at her. The dirt and blood were gone. She looked like Rika again, just a girl from his class. But there was a steel in her eyes that hadn't been there a month ago.
"I don't want to get rid of you," Ren admitted quietly. "I'm glad you're here, Rika."
Rika smiled. It wasn't her usual smirk. It was soft. Genuine.
"Good," she patted his chest. "Then let's go find our stray dog."
[Location: The Capital City - Lower Streets]
They left the castle grounds, walking past the heavy iron gates and into the city proper.
The capital of Altherion was beautiful, in a stark, rigid way. The buildings were tall, made of white stone and dark timber. The streets were paved with cobblestones that clicked under their boots.
But as they walked, Ren noticed something.
"It's just humans," Ren whispered.
"What?" Rika asked, linking her arm through his as they navigated the evening crowd.
"Look around," Ren nodded at the people. Merchants, blacksmiths, children playing. "Everyone is human. No Elves. No Beastkin. No Dwarves."
Rika scanned the crowd. "You're right. In the dungeon... the prisoners... the corpses... there were demi-humans. But up here? It's homogenous."
"The Kingdom of Altherion," Ren remembered a line from one of Valdorn's lectures. 'The bastion of Humanity.' He hadn't realized it was a literal description.
It made the air feel colder somehow.
They walked down the main thoroughfare, the smell of roasting meat and spices filling the air. It was a sharp contrast to the dungeon air they were used to. Here, life was normal. Here, people were worrying about prices and weather, not basilisks.
"There," Rika pointed.
Down a side street, near a small, ramshackle fruit stand, was a figure in a grey cloak.
It was Sora.
He still had his hood up, blending into the shadows of the alleyway. He was standing in front of a grumbling old merchant.
Ren and Rika approached quietly.
"Come on, old man," Sora's voice drifted over. It sounded tired. "It's an apple. A bruised apple. You're really going to charge full price for fruit that's been dropped?"
"Three copper or you walk, boy!" the merchant barked, waving a fly swatter. "I don't run a charity! You want charity, go to the temple!"
Sora sighed. He dug his hand into his pocket. He pulled out lint, a piece of string, and a single, lonely copper coin.
"I have one," Sora said, holding it up. "And I have... a very nice piece of string? High quality twine?"
"Get lost!" the merchant scoffed. "No money, no food! This isn't a soup kitchen!"
Sora's shoulders slumped. He looked at the apple—red, shiny, crisp—with a longing that hurt to watch. He started to turn away.
Ren stepped forward.
"Here," Ren said, flipping a silver coin onto the counter.
The merchant caught it. His eyes bulged. A silver coin was worth fifty coppers.
"Keep the change," Ren said. "Give him the apple. The good one. Not the bruised one."
The merchant's attitude flipped instantly. "Ah! A noble! Yes, yes, of course!" He grabbed the biggest, reddest apple from the top of the pyramid and polished it on his apron. "Here you go, sir!"
He handed it to Sora.
Sora stared at the apple. Then he looked at Ren.
He didn't look grateful. His jaw tightened. For a second, his eyes were hard, flashing with something dark. Then, the mask slipped back into place.
"Ren," Sora said, forcing a crooked grin. "You're ruining my negotiation tactics. I had him on the ropes."
"You had a piece of string, Sora," Rika deadpanned, letting go of Ren's arm to cross her own. "You were about to get swatted."
Sora took a bite of the apple. CRUNCH.
"I could have managed," Sora mumbled, chewing. "I could have... traded labor. Or stolen it."
"We were worried about you," Ren said, ignoring the theft comment. "Reiji said you vanished after the infirmary."
"Just had to clear my head," Sora shrugged. "The castle is loud. Too many people clapping."
"Well, get used to it," Rika smirked. "Because there's a party tonight. A big one. The Prince invited us."
Sora stopped chewing. "A party?"
"Banquet. Music. Dancing," Ren listed off. "And actual food. Not hardtack."
"Pass," Sora said immediately. "I'm not a 'banquet' guy. I don't even have a suit."
"Tailors are providing them," Ren countered. "And you're coming."
"Ren, look at me," Sora gestured to his dirty grey armor, the faint stains of blood still visible on the cuffs. "I'm the guy from the Outer Barracks. If I walk into a Royal Ball, the guards will tackle me."
"You're Class 3-G," Ren said firmly. "You saved us today. If anyone says anything, I'll handle it. I'm the Hero, remember? I have 'authority' or whatever."
Ren stepped closer, lowering his voice.
"Please, Sora. It won't feel right if the whole team isn't there. We started this together."
Sora looked at Ren. He looked at the genuine, stupid, golden hope in Ren's eyes. He looked at Rika, standing by Ren's side like a guardian angel.
They were clean. They were shiny. They fit the world.
Sora felt the weight of the machete on his back. He felt the phantom sensation of the Elf woman's blood on his hands. It was still sticky in his mind.
He didn't belong at a party. He belonged in the dark.
But he couldn't tell them that. Not without breaking the illusion.
"Fine," Sora sighed, taking another bite of the apple. "I'll come. But only for the free food. As soon as I'm full, I'm ghosting."
"Deal," Ren smiled, clapping Sora on the shoulder. "Come on. We have to get back and get fitted."
"You guys go ahead," Sora waved the apple. "I wanna finish this first. And I... need to walk a bit more."
Ren hesitated, then nodded. "Okay. See you at the dorms in an hour?"
"Yeah. An hour."
Ren turned back to Rika. "Ready?"
"Always," Rika smiled, slipping her arm back through his.
They turned and walked away, heading back up the street toward the looming white castle. The magical streetlights were flickering on, casting a warm, golden glow over the couple.
Sora stood in the alleyway, watching them go.
He took a bite of the apple. It was sweet. Sickly sweet.
He watched the way Rika leaned into Ren. He watched the way Ren slowed his pace to match hers. They looked like a painting. The Hero and his Shadow. The King and Queen of the new world.
They had purpose. They had love. They had a future.
Sora looked down at his own hand—the hand holding the apple. Under the dirt, he could still see the red stain in the creases of his fingerprints.
He had nothing.
No mana. No title. No girl. No money.
Just a rusty blade and a head full of screaming ghosts.
"We started this together," Sora repeated Ren's words, mocking them quietly.
He swallowed the apple, but it felt like a stone in his throat.
A strange feeling twisted in his gut. It wasn't just the sadness of the dungeon. It was sharper. Hotter.
He looked at Ren's back—at the Golden Hero walking in the light.
Why him?
The thought came unbidden.
Why does he get the light? Why does he get the girl? Why does he get to be the savior, and I have to be the executioner?
Sora clenched his fist, crushing the core of the apple until juice ran down his wrist.
"Jealousy?" Sora whispered to the empty street. "Is that what this is?"
He threw the apple core into the gutter.
"Pathetic."
He pulled his hood up, turning away from the light of the castle, and walked back into the shadows of the alley.