The next day, news of the bloody girl incident spread like wildfire. In every hallway, classroom, and cafeteria, whispers filled with fear and disgust could be heard:
"She's a monster…"
"They said she killed two cadets almost to death…"
"How could a kid like that get into the academy? She's more like a prisoner of war."
Ars Storia remained silent. He didn't budge hearing all that. He just stared out the classroom window while holding a pen.
"People are afraid of things they don't understand…"
"…and hostile to those they can't control."
But for Ars, something about the girl disturbed his heart. There was an invisible wound behind her brutal actions. A wound that was all too familiar.
Not a monster. But a victim.
Just like me.
As night fell and the academy began to quiet down, Ars slipped out of his dormitory. His small body made him almost inaudible as he walked. He had memorized the surveillance routes of the nurses and guards. Several blind spots on the magic cameras in the hallway below.
His destination: the underground quarantine room. The place where the girl was locked up while awaiting "further evaluation".
In her hand, she carried a metal plate filled with dry bread and bland porridge. Not a special meal. But enough to survive.
Her steps stopped in front of iron bars made of a mixture of magic and cursed steel. Pale blue crystal light illuminated the small room inside.
In the corner of the cell, sat the girl. Her hands and feet were still shackled, but her body was now covered by a shabby blanket. Her long black hair hung down, covering part of her face. She didn't move, like a tired statue.
Ars placed the back of his hand on the magic sensor on the wall, leaving a small gap open for food to be inserted.
The girl turned her head. Dark red eyes. Eyes that seemed ready to cut anything… but behind them, there was a very old and deep wound. A wound that couldn't be seen… except by someone who also had it.
Ars didn't say much. He just offered the food slowly.
"This… isn't delicious. But it's better than starving," he said flatly.
The girl just stared. Long. Not taking. Not speaking.
"If you want to kill me," Ars continued expressionlessly, "just take the knife when you're free later. But at least eat first."
Silence froze between them.
Then… the girl's hand moved. Hesitant, trembling, but still taking the food slowly. She said nothing. But the look in her eyes changed slightly. Like a small ember burning in the darkness that had long frozen her heart.
Ars just stood there for a moment. Then turned around.
But before he really left, the girl finally spoke, softly, almost inaudibly:
"…why…?"
Ars stopped. Didn't look back.
"…why aren't you afraid of me?"
Ars' answer came out without hesitation.
Simple. Cold. But cutting:
"Because I know… pain doesn't make someone a monster."
"But the world that continues to torture him… can."
Then he walked away, leaving a deep silence in the cell. But behind that silence... there was a tear that finally fell from the girl's eyes.
As Ars' footsteps faded into the dark hallway, the girl stared at the metal plate in her hands. Bland bread. Cold porridge. But… somehow, it felt warm.
For the first time, someone had thrust something into her without command. Without force. Without fear… or disgust.
The girl stared at the small hole where Ars had slipped through.
And suddenly—the image appeared in her mind.
A small silhouette.
A calm gaze.
A cold… yet non-judgmental tone.
That silhouette… was too similar to someone from her past.
Tears suddenly flowed without permission. Without a sound. Like a dry river finally broken by the first rain.
"Why do you… remind me of him?"
Flashes of the past swept through her mind like a storm.
In the snowy forest, two children ran among the ruins and corpses. The girl, with her small body covered in wounds and trembling hands, took a breath while holding back tears.
Someone pulled her hand. A boy with a gentle smile. Their ages were not much different. But their eyes… shone like the eyes of someone who refused to die.
"Don't stop. You promised me, right? You have to live."
"Why…" the girl whispered at that time, "why do you… always smile even though we continue to be tortured?"
The boy answered, "Because if I cry, you won't be able to stand."
Then they were caught.
Like tired hunted animals, they were thrown onto the muddy ground. Dragged. Beaten. And finally… sentenced.
"One must die. One can live. Choose for yourself."
The girl couldn't speak. Couldn't move. But before she could think…
BOOM!
The first bullet pierced the boy's chest. Then the second. The third. The fourth. The girl screamed, but the sound was drowned out by the executioners' laughter.
And after the body fell covered in blood—
The sword was raised high.
Then… the head… fell.
The girl could only crawl on the ground, trembling, grasping for air, staring at the head of her only friend lying in front of her eyes.
Those eyes… were still open.
Still looking at her…
…as if saying: "Sorry, I have to go firstsai
Back in the quarantine room, the girl covered her face with both hands.
Her tears flowed more freely now. Not because of fear.
But because of the memories she never allowed to come out…
…finally burst out.
And in a soft whisper, she said:
"Why… do you remind me of him…"