Honestly. Just Keep That in Mind.
‘Sister’s got a stubborn streak, doesn’t she.’
Kaya, who had led Shae to Hendrick’s tent, gave her a brief rundown on a few key details about Hendrick before heading into her own tent. Though Kaya hadn’t forced her...
‘How could I say no to that look on her face?’
She was still confused and scared. The nightmare had been bad enough, but she couldn’t shake the way Hendrick had glared at her in that moment. Still, she decided to trust Kaya’s words. She chose to believe that Hendrick had done her a great favor, that her entire life had changed because of him.
“Ahem, ahem!”
Rustle—
She deliberately made her footsteps loud and cleared her throat, and there was a stir from inside. It hadn’t been that long since lights out, so it wasn’t strange that he wasn’t asleep yet.
—...Shae?
“Yes, Leader.”
—You got something to say? Or is something up?
“Um... may I come in? I have something to talk about.”
Shae hated silence. She always had, from the past right up to this very moment. Silence was usually the harbinger of bad things. That’s why she avoided it or broke it herself. But not now. She didn’t want to throw away Kaya’s kindness, and deep down, she agreed that she needed to talk to Hendrick.
—Come in.
Thankfully, the silence broke quickly, and Shae let out a sigh of relief as she stepped into Hendrick’s tent.
**
Her body was screaming for sleep, but once she lay down on the ground, her eyes refused to close. They were drier than after pulling an all-nighter for a long terror run, her body more exhausted than after a full-kit march in the army, but sleep wouldn’t come.
Fucking annoyingly.
When she closed her eyes, the nightmares replayed. The key unlocking the door more terrifying than ever, getting beaten for no reason, begging for mercy through tears and snot with zero effect, the chilling moment she turned back while trying to escape... The nightmares from 1-3 fragmented and replayed in random order.
So she didn’t want to close her eyes, and that just made them drier.
Fuck—
She heard Shae’s voice right when she was seriously considering chugging some holy water. The vibe earlier had been off, and a one-on-one in his current state felt weird, but talking to her might help, so he let her in.
“The tent’s small, so we can’t sit as far apart as before.”
“It’s fine.”
Not seeming like they’d talk lying down, he sat up to greet her. But the tent was ridiculously low. Unless he sat ramrod straight in the exact center, his head brushed the top if he straightened his back or neck.
‘Already feeling like shit, and now talking in this uncomfortable position?’
Fuck it. He lay back down. Then he patted the spot next to him.
“Space is space, so let’s get comfortable and talk.”
“Uh, uh-huh...”
“You’re tired too.”
He glanced over—Shae was in casual clothes. It’d be ridiculous to wear full plate even in the one safe rest spot, so that was natural. But he remembered how she’d shied away from skinship. For her, being alone with him in this tight space in ‘casual clothes’ must be a huge burden.
‘Then why’d she even say she wanted to come in?’
He wanted to sigh but held it back. If she was pushing past that much reluctance to enter his tent, it had to be extremely important. Instead of more words, he scooted as far to the edge as possible to give her space. This tent seemed a bit bigger than an A-frame, so at this distance, their skin shouldn’t touch.
Reading his silent gesture, Shae hesitated before lying down in proper form. Her posture was so stiff it was almost comical. For the record, her body was plastered to the opposite edge too.
...Seeing her like that made his own body tense up in solidarity. In other words, zero comfort.
“So, what’d you want to say?”
“L-Leader.”
“I’m listening.”
“There’s stuff I want to say, and stuff I want to ask. I’ll start with what I want to say first. Leader.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry for swatting your hand away back in that box room. It wasn’t on purpose.”
“Nah, I’m the one who should apologize for that.”
“No! That’s not it! It’s not something you can just brush off like that!”
“Shae?”
“Ahh... sorry.”
The distance between them at opposite ends of the cramped tent mirrored how their conversation felt—somehow not meshing. He held no grudge about her swatting his hand. His apology had been genuine. If she had trauma, extreme caution was right. Hell, even he—fucking nightmares dragging buried memories to the surface—had nearly freaked out at a simple handshake or touch for ages. Social anxiety was his baseline.
What pissed him off and bugged him was unknowingly triggering her trauma and how it had wrecked the hero party’s vibe—not anything she’d done wrong.
But Shae saw it differently, apparently.
“Could you... maybe light this place up a bit later?”
“Out of nowhere?”
“Just... yeah. You laid everything bare so honestly, so maybe I should open up a little too.”
“No need to force it. If you’re doing this out of consideration for me...”
Swish—
Instead of answering, the sound of fabric rustling came.
......What.
Why the sound of putting on or taking off clothes? She couldn’t be dressing now. Which meant... only one possibility.
Shae was undressing in his tent right now!
“Shae. You right now—”
“Okay... I’m done. Light it up now.”
“Shae.”
“Hurry... before my resolve fades.”
Unable to resist her strained voice, he pulled out the magic torch close to the lantern. A drop of oil and a spark, and a reddish glow spread through the tent, illuminating what had been too dark to make out.
What appeared before his eyes was Shae’s bare back—not a stitch on her. Smooth curves and firm, unexaggerated back muscles caught his eye first.
But.
‘W-What the... fuck. What the hell has this woman been through?!’
Her back bore a long scar snaking across the middle like a thick serpent’s trail. Deep gashes stitched up. Severe burns imperfectly healed. Chunks of flesh gouged out and regrown. Scars whose origins were impossible to guess...
Scars. Scars. Scars, scars.
Finding unmarred skin was the challenge—her back was a landscape of scars.
“What do you think? Pretty ugly, right?”
“You, you...”
“Can’t quite show the front. Even the back’s the ‘lesser’ one.”
His mouth moved, but no words came. He had zero clue what to say. Pity? Sympathy? Comfort? Even a fuckup like him knew those were wrong answers here.
Her back carried shudder-worthy malice. Enough to make his own past traumas feel like chump change.
“That’s why I never wanted to show skin if I could help it. Not even casual clothes or nun robes touching bare skin. Except sleeping or washing, I always wore armor. Now, though, we rest when we can, so no hiding anymore.”
The small amount of oil made the flame dim quickly. The scars faded into shadow, but... they were already burned into his retinas, tattooed into his brain as vivid memories.
“So swatting your hand was a reflexive thing from way back. Not that I hate you or that you did anything wrong. That’s what I wanted to say.”
“...Got it.”
“Good.”
More rustling—this time, dressing. Seeing those scars, he could guess her nightmares. Not battle wounds. Persistent torture or experiments... something like that.
He started dreading whatever question she’d ask after baring her body like this.
“Leader.”
“Yeah.”
“I hate heretics.”
“Yeah.”
“Heretics aren’t people.”
“Yeah?”
“And this place is their den—the worst, deepest one.”
A group worshiping insane terror? Yeah, that fit.
“So I want to wipe them out completely. No mercy. Intel? Don’t need it. Redemption? Not worth considering.”
Heat bled into Shae’s voice.
“They’re society’s filth. Filth that chooses to wallow in it. They don’t help anyone—drag people into despair, cause harm. Pests and beasts at least serve as prey in the end, but these? Nothing.”
“Right.”
“Leader. I want the dungeon’s total annihilation.”
Total annihilation. In long terror terms, complete clear. The weight of those words wasn’t light. Immense.
Thinking of her life and those back scars made it even heavier.
Her hatred for heretics—burned fierce and long into charcoal, yet still smoldering hot. That was the reason this beautiful crusader, always flashing easy smiles, existed and moved. He realized it now.
An angelic crusader with demonic scars, harboring unquenchable hate.
“Can you keep embracing someone like me and keep going forward? That’s what I wanted to ask.”
Can you bear this scarred, beautiful crusader—not just once, but until the dungeon falls?
“Shae.”
“Yes, Leader.”
“Sorry for not answering straight and throwing a counter-question, but why’d you give me your holy symbol? We’d only fought together once.”
“I felt your sincerity. This hero party, you—you’re really trying to break through the dungeon. That kind of sincerity.”
Sincerity. A word with mysterious power. Strong enough to answer most questions.
“To answer honestly, I only eyed your talent at first. From the moment I saw you, I was greedy for it. Thought a top-tier tank like you guarding our front would be perfect—someone I had to recruit. That’s all.”
“I see.”
“But after fighting together—especially after you nearly died—my thinking changed. The sincerity you talked about. I felt it too.”
I want to go all the way with this crusader. Sure, gamer greed and hype mixed in heavy, but the feelings—admiration, gratitude, coolness—weren’t fake.
“Can I keep embracing you? Let me ask you again.”
With sincerity once more, he made the formal proposal.
“Crusader Shae of the Justitia Order. Are you ready to follow a worthless unbeliever like me, Hendrick, to the dungeon’s deepest depths?”
The flame had died; faces invisible in the dark. But it didn’t matter. Voices conveyed their wills.
After a brief silence, Shae’s answer came. Straight and true.
“I am.”
“Ready to follow my orders, cherish your comrades, and block enemy attacks first?”
“I am.”
“Ready to trust me, trust yourself, trust your comrades, push to the end, and face the greatest, longest terror that awaits?”
“I am.”
A shut-in gamer loser abused into self-loathing, possessing a mediocre bounty hunter. A battle nun shattered by racial abuse and violence. Add a destructive crusader whose top emotion was now hatred for heretics after unspeakable pain, her fake smiles hiding it all. Not surprising, not impressive.
“Until death parts us, the hero party’s goal won’t change. I swear it on the two goddesses I know. Warm mercy and cool tolerance. And, uh, what was it...”
“...Radiant light and impartial justice upon all faces.”
In the pitch-black tent, a small light flickered near Shae’s neck.