The shopkeeper rummaged through the counter and pulled out a piece of paper. It didn’t seem particularly useful; it looked like something drawn by a seven-year-old.

Realizing this belatedly, she crumpled the paper and pointed to her face.

“There was a scar around here like it had been slashed with a knife. His eyes were yellow, the pupils small, and the whites of his eyes shiny. His voice was raspy, almost metallic, and he wore all black. We reported it to the castle, but the lord doesn’t seem concerned about public safety. So, be careful—don’t go anywhere alone.”

“Thank you for letting us know. Is your nephew all right?”

“He just bruised his tailbone from falling. My sister’s family came to pick him up, so he’ll leave soon. I doubt anyone would go so far as to chase him down to kill him, right?”

Bleria looked somewhat relieved but quickly fell back into a dark expression.

“I’m truly sorry for causing this trouble.”

“Oh no, it’s not because of you.”

Perhaps trying to put her at ease, the shopkeeper waved her hands dismissively. However, Bleria’s expression didn’t lighten even as they left the bakery.

***

The two returned to Bleria’s house. The atmosphere had remained somber throughout the journey, making it difficult for Gopher to broach the topic. All he managed to say was a feeble reassurance: It’s not your fault.

“You said you had something to discuss? Let’s talk inside.”

Her voice was faint as she opened the door. As they had for several days, they sat across from each other at the dining table. Outside, raindrops had begun to fall.

Gopher couldn’t help but notice how thinly dressed she was, but this wasn’t the time to comment on it. Once Bleria had poured tea and filled their cups, Gopher finally spoke, albeit hesitantly.

“What do you think of Mixel Luke?”

Bleria gazed at him for a moment, then sighed heavily. Her suppressed and strained voice carried her response.

“When I came to Conercio, Mixel was the only person I could trust. And he hasn’t betrayed me yet.”

“Have you ever felt he might be dangerous?”

“Even if I have, what difference does it make? Suspecting and guarding myself against him changes nothing. If I were to be betrayed, all I’d gain is the hollow satisfaction of thinking, ‘Ah, I was right.'”

“…”

“I don’t want to doubt him. Constantly weighing whether or not someone can be trusted is exhausting. So please, don’t tell me Mixel tried to harm Aaron.”

The only choice left. The sole person I can trust.

Listening to her words, Gopher was reminded of their past selves. Yet this time, his role was to drive a wedge between them, to sow distrust.

The irony of their reversed situation gnawed at him, but the more pressing matter was that Gopher was running out of time. Mixel could return at any moment—could he persuade Bleria before then? The urgency parched his throat.

“I’m not trying to sow discord,” he said, though his tone betrayed his desperation. “I just…”

No. Gentle persuasion wouldn’t work here, no matter how he framed it.

Gopher gritted his teeth, his gaze hardening. He asked directly, 

“Are you aware that Mixel is monitoring you?”

“People are protecting me.”

“Those people are isolating you.”

“That’s why I’m living in Conercio in the first place.”

“And you think it’s acceptable for them to harm innocent people who try to approach you? Do you believe what happened at the bakery wasn’t on Mixel’s orders?”

Bleria didn’t answer, but her silence didn’t feel like agreement. Gopher’s frustration quickened his words.

“Couldn’t you stay somewhere out of his sight, just for a little while? Just a brief respite. I’ll arrange everything—the expenses, the safe house. You wouldn’t have to endure any inconvenience.”

“You’re asking me to trust you and run away?”

Bleria’s tone was emotionless, her expression unreadable. She looked no different than she had months ago when she had refused his help and fled on the hunting grounds.

Unbidden, the memory resurfaced for Gopher.

“L-Lady Bleria has jumped off the cliff!”

His stomach churned violently. He covered his mouth with his hand, lowering his head.

Bleria hadn’t died. She was alive, sitting across from him. And he wanted her to remain alive. He couldn’t let her be caught in Mixel Luke’s web.

As he steeled his resolve, Bleria rose from her seat.

“We should end this conversation. I’d like to rest now.”

Gopher also stood, meeting her gaze with an intensity that seemed to pierce her fiery orange eyes.

“Mixel might harm you.”

After a brief silence, Bleria sighed heavily. Gopher was about to add to his plea when she stared at him directly, her tone cold and biting.

“He’s more trustworthy than someone who already abandoned me.”

“…”

“I mean you, Gopher.”

Her voice, uttering his name, had never sounded so cruel.

It felt like someone had poured pure white paint into his mind, drowning his consciousness in blankness. Bleria gathered the untouched cups and began arranging them on the tray, speaking as she did.

“The more you talk like this, the more you remind me of the old Mixel. I suppose you two really do share the same blood.”

The crack that started at his feet expanded until it shattered his entire field of vision into a thousand fragments.

Gopher felt betrayed—not by Bleria, but by the world itself. By his naive, complacent self, who had dared to believe he’d been granted a second chance.

I wished Bleria’s face would turn into Eos’s instead, but this wasn’t a nightmare. The stark reality pierced through my mind. His jaw trembled.

“… Didn’t you take the Dreamer’s Bloom herb?”

“I pretended to. If I said I wouldn’t take it, and someone slipped it into food, I wouldn’t have been able to avoid it.”

“Why did you act like you couldn’t remember?”

“The door was open that day—you came in.”

Gopher vividly recalled the day etched in his memory.

It was the day of a torrential downpour. Bleria had opened the door and stepped out. Just as he was about to speak to her, she glanced outside and asked, 

“Who are you?”

“Ha.” 

The laugh that escaped him was dry and hollow.

“You were being mindful of the watchers…”

“If I acknowledged you and Mixel found out, he’d realize I hadn’t taken the Dreamer’s Bloom herb.”

Gopher rubbed his face with trembling hands.

The sound of rain outside made him feel as if he had returned to that day when he had met Bleria again.

The despair, fear, and unease from back then came crashing down like a deluge. Emotions he thought he had long left behind swirled above him like clouds, only to burst all at once.

They coalesced into something dark, weighing heavily on his heart. Gopher thought it was anger.

“Why did you deceive me?”

His voice simmered darkly.

“Was it fun pretending not to remember anything, watching me scramble to please you? Did you enjoy seeing me act ridiculous, terrified you’d discover the truth about the past? No, none of that matters.”

Gopher rubbed his face roughly, the tension pulling his skin taut, and glared at Bleria. His voice carried an old resentment as he continued.

“Why did you push my hand away in the hunting grounds? Why did you seek Mixel’s help instead of mine, creating a fake corpse and deceiving even me? I—I truly believed you were dead. Until I found you in Conercio, I thought you were gone…!”

Do you even know how I lived after losing you?

He wanted to spill it all, to tell her how close he’d come to giving up on life. He tried to lay bare the pain and despair he’d endured, the loss and regret that had been impossible to erase. But none of it reached Bleria.

“You lied countless times, but I can’t lie to you even once?”

“Bleria!”

“…Bleria?”

That word, laden with mockery, stung more than any insult he’d heard.

With just that one retort, Gopher felt all his emotions extinguish. No, it wasn’t just his emotions that melted away. It was as if his very existence had been erased. An unbearable sense of loss consumed him.

“It’s been a long time since I heard that name.”

Bleria—no, Mel Slopey—looked him in the eyes as she spoke. Gopher tried to meet her gaze, but what had been so easy moments ago now felt impossible.

He lowered his head. Only the sound of cold sweat dripping could be heard in the suffocating silence. Unable to wipe the sweat pooling at his chin, Gopher listened as Mel spoke calmly.

“Why did I deceive you and let you into the house? I needed to know what you were thinking. How did you find this place? What were your intentions? Were you really looking for Mixel… was it to eliminate loose ends? To…”

Her voice hesitated momentarily, but then the words sharpened, piercing Gopher’s chest like a blade.

“…to kill me?”

A sharp pain flared deep within his lungs. He gripped the table’s edge as if he would tear it apart.

“If I pretended to have completely forgotten, you’d leave in peace. But in the end, it came to this.”

“…”

“Why did you come here in the first place? Even when I pretended not to remember, why did you step into my house and act out the farce you spoke of?”