The Story or My Life
Since crossing over into this world, he had dug for answers, over and over. Roughly a day of digging was all it took for him to grasp where he now stood — and the picture was ugly. The situation was precarious in the extreme, and if he let it run its course, retribution was certain to come for him.
"Fuck... why am I the one who has to clean up the mess this guy made?"
The bounty hunter Revnil Lophenheim was making his way somewhere in secret. If he acted now, a breakout was still within reach. But once he was locked away in the penitentiary, even rescue would become a fantasy.
'Sure, I'm the one who put her in there in the first place. With a bounty that size on her head, they must have decided that was enough and let it slide.'
She would not die until the story reached its ending. But the road there was treacherous, and every step of it became fuel for provoking the protagonist. Because of that, he was destined to be written off as just another minor villain swept aside in the hero's wake.
'The first time, I took the money and handed her over. From the second time on is where the problem begins.'
Born of witch's blood, she could always claw together some answer whenever a crisis closed in on her. Of course, within the story those answers were nothing but stopgaps, each one merely setting the stage for the next disaster. She would suffer and despair because of it, and still live on, struggling, with her eyes fixed on the protagonist and no one else.
'I have to settle this mess first, before I can even attempt to talk my way through anything.'
Revnil was trying to pull her out, fully prepared to accept that the story would twist off course. The story flowing smoothly, or his own survival — there was no reason to agonize over a choice between the two.
'First I put distance between the protagonist and me. Then I can think about the story, or whatever else comes after.'
One after another, Revnil knocked out the soldiers guarding the prison. Fortunately, Revnil Lophenheim carried at least a rudimentary measure of force. But were he to run up against a wall like the protagonist, he would crumble all the same, hollow and helpless.
'Once this stunt is pulled, there'll be a price on my head too...'
Getting her out for good would take more than a jailbreak — they would have to get entirely clear of the city. On top of that, the city's Imperial Army garrison or other bounty hunters might well come hunting them. This one act was dragging no small weight of danger behind it.
'From here on out, I won't be able to show my face anywhere. I'll have to scrape by in the Underworld.'
Moving in silence, Revnil kept dropping soldiers as he went. A wanted man could hardly stroll about in broad daylight. His new life would simply have to begin with everything entrusted to the dark.
'If only I'd done this before I handed her over — it would have gone so much smoother.'
Revnil found the key ring and shook his head. Nothing about this could truly be called his responsibility. He was merely bound to a fate that had been draped over this body without asking.
'My life has always been a wretched thing. Wherever I go, whatever I do, nothing ever comes undone.'
Despite himself, Revnil's thoughts drifted back to his previous life. The backdrop and the circumstances would be different, but the man tangled in the web was the same as ever. In the end, it would take an upheaval of some kind to break a cycle like this.
...
Revnil came to a stop before the cell and peered vaguely inside. Torchlight bled in from the corridor around him, but it could not swallow the darkness within. Even so, faint as it was, he could make out signs of someone stirring inside.
"You..."
"There's no time for a long story. If they haul you off like this, getting out won't be easy."
Revnil gave the short answer and began sorting through the keys, testing each one against the lock in turn until, at last, he found the one that fit.
"I know full well this mess is my own doing... but it's not too late to start undoing it."
Revnil flung the cell door open and met her gaze head-on. Red eyes, brimming with loathing, stared straight through him. He still considered himself wronged in all this, but there was no way to explain that away.
"So — will you let them drag you away, or will you try escaping?"
"..."
At his offer, she moved, reluctant as it was. For now there was nothing to do but follow Revnil. Alone, she had no way out at all.
"We get fully out of the city. Even then, they might still come after us."
"It may look pathetic to you, but I'll have a bounty on my head soon enough myself. I was the idiot who got myself into this."
"I sold you off for my own gain, and now I'm breaking you out because the guilt won't leave me alone. That's the end of my excuses — think whatever you like."
With that, Revnil cut the explanation short and turned back the way he had come. He meant to avoid spilling blood wherever he could, but in a desperate moment, leaving someone hurt was unavoidable. Even so, on the whole it beat the alternative — being cut down by the protagonist.
"... Even so, I won't forgive you."
"Better than moping, I suppose. You'll need feelings like that if you want to survive."
"Even if you threw your life away for me, I still wouldn't forgive you."
"Oh, I'm sure. I'm as good as dead already, anyway."
"You shouldn't have done it in the first place, then."
"Yeah, yeah. If I'd known I'd end up regretting it like this, I never would have. But I'm not that capable, and I've been dropped into a position about as unfair as it gets."
The words slipped out of him — an honest heart laid bare before he could stop it. No one could understand the position he was in. Someone else had made the original mess; he was simply the one left sweeping up after it, one-sided as that was.
"... Is there some other reason?"
"Whether there is or isn't, I doubt it would make you understand. People don't exactly go around weighing each other's circumstances, do they?"
"That's..."
The witch's descendant, Emyuna Legande, could not bring herself to answer. She knew the truth of it in her own bones — she and her ancestors alike had lived persecuted for generations. There had even been those who were used and then discarded, and not a soul had ever pitied them. Perhaps Revnil Lophenheim, too, carried some story he could not tell.
"But I won't grovel about it. This mess is mine, plain and simple. That's exactly why I'm going through all this grief."
Even as he answered, Revnil shoved back soldiers that had appeared out of nowhere. For now, he could still handle them alone. But if the elites of the Imperial Army were dispatched, things would turn considerably trickier.
"So what exactly are you planning?"
"I get you out, then I vanish. Even so, I know a way or two to keep myself fed."
"You're giving up bounty hunting?"
"I'm about to be the one getting hunted. What else is there?"
Emyuna simply let the silence stretch on. She didn't particularly pity him, but his situation had undeniably turned for the worse — in the end, even Revnil's fate had been dragged into this because of her.
"The escape route's already mapped out... Everything still holds for now, so all we can do is push through."
"... I have seen your future."
The instant he heard those words, Revnil stopped dead without meaning to. Witches, unlike mages, carried powers both mystical and grotesque. It was why, down the long ages, they had been crushed under oppression or ruthlessly exploited.
"I didn't see it because I wanted to. It's not the kind of thing you can simply choose to look at."
"You're bringing up my future in the middle of all this?"
"Back then, you were a man bound to die before long. You would have brought me even more pain... and you were the one whose actions would set off my friend."
"..."
His expression gone somewhat graver, Revnil glanced sidelong at Emyuna. That prophecy matched, exactly, the end that awaited him. But this time he would not repeat the same blunder — and so that prophecy would, at last, go astray.
"But the moment you opened that cell door... I saw a new future. Your life stretched a little longer. You won't be the one hurting me anymore. If anything, you'll be trying to help me... and I can't make sense of it, no matter how I turn it over."
"So that's why you followed without a word."
Quietly relieved, Revnil started walking again. If a witch's descendant had glimpsed a vision like that, he could set his worries aside for a while. At the very least, he wouldn't be dying at the protagonist's hand.
"You carry an enormous destiny. Until this moment, you were nothing more than an insignificant man..."
"People can't stay the same forever. And I'm not fool enough to hang everything on a single prophecy."
Revnil meant to hold fast to his original position. A witch's foresight was, admittedly, razor-sharp and cunning in equal measure. But he was, above all, a man who simply took care of what needed doing.
"All I need from you is to tell me what you've been through, and where. I already know your father is an executive of the Revolutionary Army, and that your childhood friend is strong. Quite strong, in fact."
"..."
Emyuna followed behind Revnil, considerably shaken. She had never breathed a word of any of it to a living soul. Which meant Revnil had to have unearthed it all on his own.
"So the moment I get you out of here, your safety is guaranteed."
"But you..."
"What, you've got that much leisure to worry about me now? I'll survive my own way. No matter what happens from here."
Revnil said nothing more after that. From here on out, he needed his focus. The moment they left the prison behind, enemies would come crashing in from every side.
'This is exactly why touching the heroine never ends well... From now on, I'd better live an honest life.'