[ In one of the arena's corridors ]
At that moment, Demian was simply following Mira in silence, not saying anything, keeping a distance of three steps behind her while watching her closely.
They were walking through a dimly lit corridor, and it seemed that not many people passed through there. During the three days Demian had been in the coliseum, he had noticed that there were usually people everywhere while walking around—but here, there was no one.
Demian looked around in every direction, while Mira slightly turned her head to speak to him.
"You must be wondering why there's no one here, right?" Mira said.
Surprised that she spoke to him so suddenly, Demian took a moment before answering her question.
There was a brief silence before he spoke.
"Yes, I'm curious about that."
As Demian spoke, they began to climb a staircase that was there.
"The reason is quite simple. None of the gladiators have permission to come to this part of the coliseum. Well, I mean, there are a few exceptions—like Goliath, who's the oldest gladiator here since I arrived, or people I personally invite… like you," Mira said, giving Demian a friendly smile.
For a few moments, Demian felt slightly captivated by her smile, but he quickly regained his composure.
BAM
Demian slapped his own face.
"Calm down. You can't become too friendly with the enemy. Even if she's not a bad person, she's on Louis's side—and probably on the side of whoever commands Louis."
"So I can't lose focus. The goal of this conversation is to find something that indicates where the exit of this place is."
"Alright. Now I need to pay attention to all her movements."
Demian then began staring at Mira, who noticed it almost immediately and let out a small giggle.
"Alright, Demian, we've arrived," Mira said after finishing climbing the stairs.
After Demian reached the top as well, he found himself facing a long corridor with only a single door at the very end.
"There's probably something in her room that indicates where the exit is."
The two of them walked toward the door. Mira opened it and said:
"Come in. Make yourself at home, Demian—just as if this were your own room."
...
[Mira's Room]
After Mira and Demian entered the room, Mira walked over to the small table in front of the sofa and picked up a glass of wine.
Whoosh.
Suddenly, Mira heard the sound of someone lying down on her bed, and she immediately turned toward it.
Demian was lying face down on her bed.
"Wow, this is the first time I've ever lain on something this soft. This is extremely comfortable," Demian said.
He kept moving from side to side, as if he were enjoying the best sensation in the world at that moment.
"I know I told you to make yourself comfortable, but I didn't expect you to lie down on my bed. Don't you have even a little shame, Demian?" Mira asked.
Demian stopped moving and, still lying down, looked at her and said,
"Shame is for those who have something to be ashamed of. I don't have anything like that," Demian replied with a serious expression.
Seeing this, Mira sighed softly and gave a small, sideways smile.
Well, I said I wasn't ashamed, but one thing does make me curious. Why is this bed so cold? I get that it's not warm, but normally, even if someone hasn't laid on a bed for a long time, it wouldn't be cold to the point of being icy. Seriously, I'm starting to feel cold, Demian thought.
Realizing that Demian had no intention of getting up, Mira turned around, picked up the wine glass she had just filled, and walked toward the bed, sitting down beside him.
After sitting down, Mira took a sip of wine and then spoke.
"So, what do you think of the coliseum, Demian?"
Demian, with his face buried in the pillows, turned his head toward her and replied,
"I think it's actually a decent environment, considering everything."
"What do you mean by that?" Mira asked.
Demian looked straight into her eyes and said,
"If people think about it seriously, the prisoners here actually have a fair amount of freedom. From the out
Mira kept looking at him, waiting for him to finish.
"And fr
After hearing that, Mira gently swirled the wine in her glass, took a sip, and then said,
"Demian, I want to ask you something. May I?"
"Of course."
"Does a person who knows they are already condemned by the mistakes of the past still have motivation to live?"
Ah! Where did that question come from all of a sudden? Demian thought.
Mira, who had been staring at her glass, turned to look at him.
"I think that if a person still has the desire to atone for their mistakes, then yes, they still have motivation to live."
"But how can someone atone for someone who is already dead?" Mira whispered.
At that moment, Demian noticed a trace of sadness in Mira's eyes as she looked at him.
"So, Demian, going back to what you said earlier about the freedom I give to the prisoners of the coliseum," Mira continued, "the reason for that is because I believe they deserve at least a minimum of freedom, since they can die at any moment."
"But why would you go to such lengths just to give them a bit of comfort?" Demian asked.
"Because that way, perhaps good people won't die in such a lonely manner," Mira whispered.
"What? Sorry, I didn't catch what you said," Demian replied.
Mira smiled at him—a smile that clearly showed she had no intention of answering.
"Well, you've spent quite some time here already. Your friend Alan is probably about to wake up. I'd accompany you, but I still need to finish my wine, so I'll say goodbye at the door."
I really don't understand her. She wanted to talk to me, but she didn't say anything truly important—just trivial matters. Still, I suppose it doesn't matter. That whole conversation gave me time to carefully observe her room, and now I think I already have an idea of how to get out of this place, Demian thought.
Demian then stood up from the bed, a bit reluctantly, since he had been feeling so comfortable there, and Mira walked him to the door.
"Well, Demian, it was actually quite relaxing to talk to you. You're very straightforward about what you think."
I won't deny that I see you differently now, Mira. You don't seem like a bad person, and that only makes me wonder why someone like you would manage a place like this, Demian thought.
"I feel the same, Mira."
Then Demian turned around and left, intending to return to the infirmary.
...
[Infirmary]
At that moment, Alan was moving from side to side, his body drenched in sweat.
It seemed as though he was dreaming of something.
In his dream, there was a little boy who looked to be about twelve years old. His head was completely covered in blood, and standing in front of him were two people—a man and a woman.
The man looked shocked, while the woman appeared terrified.
Then the little boy spoke.
"Mom… Dad…"
The woman's trembling mouth uttered only a single word.
"Monster!"
Suddenly, Alan woke up and sat upright. He was gasping for air, sweating heavily, and a thin trail of tears ran down one side of his face.
"Mom…" Alan whispered in a low voice.