It Hurts, and It Hurts Again
The woman shed tears she'd never shed before. She felt like she might just die from it. Groaning in agony, grunting and vomiting blood time and again. Even the bedding that should have felt soft pricked and burned against her skin. She couldn't even register the cold wet cloth on her forehead, reaching out into empty air instead. And in the end, she thought she might as well die. It hurt too much, was too hard. Her mind grew hazy, then felt like it was tearing apart.
In that pain, emotions bloomed. Sadness, injustice. Hatred, curses. She thought of dying countless times, and finally, as a gray one, she awakened something. Feeling it slowly fill her to the brim, she contemplated death. The children who threw stones at her. The adults who looked at her with contempt. The thought connected: it was they who should die, not her.
The gray curse always twisted that way in the end. Sure, they were given the choice to continue as humans, but beside the wide, easy path, there was only a narrow, steep cliffside trail they couldn't take. It was presented as a choice, but no one could call it that. No one would abandon the easy road for one where they might plummet to their death.
So the gray ones writhed in torment and eventually made a forced choice. But the woman, faced with that very crossroads, felt someone holding her hand. Amid the pain and hardship, as emotions swelled, that person surfaced.
"…A, Ah, in."
She felt like she'd never see Ain again if she chose wrong. Like she couldn't remain the good child he wanted. Like he'd abandon her forever.
"Ain…."
The woman murmured his name over and over. She felt the cold wet cloth. Someone gently held her hand.
"A, in…."
"…Yeah, I'm right here."
A familiar, gentle voice answered her call.
"I… I'll be a good girl…."
"…Yeah."
So, Ain.
"Don't… abandon me…."
"…."
With those words, she lost consciousness again.
How many days had passed? The woman lay on the makeshift bed, still groaning. He arrived early every morning to change the wet cloth, wipe her body, and nurse her, but he couldn't shake the anxiety that she might just stop breathing.
Even in this proper setup thanks to the old man's consideration, the fact that she hadn't opened her eyes for days planted a quiet doubt in his mind. If things had followed the novel's course, how had she survived? Curiosity bloomed about that unwritten part. Had someone helped her then? Was there at least one person who pitied her like he did? And if so, where had that person gone?
As he changed the cloth amid such scattered thoughts, a sigh-mixed voice came from behind.
"You're awfully devoted, you fool. Putting in effort for a total stranger you wouldn't even give your own mother."
"…Be quiet."
He wished the old man would curb his excessive assumptions. He wasn't unfilial—at least, he'd do the same for his mom if she collapsed.
"Tch, tsk tsk. When you were bawling and begging for help, now a single word gets you nagging."
No.
"Old man, I didn't cry back then, okay?"
"Like hell you didn't, you brat. I remember clear as day—you were bawling like a baby, 'Old man… help… sob….'"
It had been urgent and chaotic, but he distinctly remembered not bawling like that. So the old man was distorting a scene that shook centuries of history.
"No, when did I say that? If you're gonna keep saying weird stuff, go sit at the counter!"
"No customers coming, why the counter, you whiner? 'Old man… pleeease… help, sob~'"
"…."
Ah, please. Stop. He'd prefer the old man go back to seriously scolding him.
But the old man showed no such intention.
"Keh heh heh, all brawn, no brains. So what if you're tall and muscled? You'll still be busy crying later!"
"Ah, you're annoying—get out…."
"Beg like back then with tears, and I'll go. 'Old man, pleeease help meee~'"
"…."
I'm gonna lose it.
Anyway. The gray woman had spent over a few days not in the alley's wooden shack, but in the small room of the grocery store.
Contrary to his worries, the old man didn't show disgust or hatred toward her. He'd sigh about whether this was the right choice, but still fetched fresh cloths for her groans.
When he'd cautiously asked if he wasn't worried the curse might spread, like common perceptions…
"Ain, seeing you fine after years of care proves it doesn't spread. Use that brain of yours, idiot."
"…."
He'd been speechless at being called the idiot while the old man changed the cloth.
So he was grateful. It had been a decision he couldn't easily make despite endless thought. This one act cost so much. When even the old man refused, his options were all bad.
So for the old man to shake off centuries of prejudice on a mere boy's tears after a few years working together, thanks weren't enough.
Thinking that, he looked at the woman. Days later, she still hadn't regained consciousness, but her constant groans had quieted. Sometimes she'd briefly come to, murmuring his name and gripping his hand tight.
So she'd open her eyes soon. Not as the powerless girl sprawled in the alley, but as the gray witch who might become a disaster.
"…."
Honestly, that scared him a little. Even believing he could change things, recalling the novel's gray made it so. Like a burst dam flooding emotions long dammed. The newly awakened power could be swayed wildly by those feelings, as written.
Helping and caring since childhood didn't guarantee she'd become normal. Like the old man said, his choice might doom imperial citizens. That thought gnawed at him.
Still, foolishly, he held hope.
"…I hope she stays good."
He hoped that when she opened her eyes and faced him again, she'd be the same dazed, kind girl. Smiling shyly when happy, pouting only her lips when displeased. Not fully normal, but close—free from stale prejudices, reassigned a role beyond imperial disaster. A story where she wasn't killed by the hero and saintess.
And.
"…Ain."
As if answering his murmur, she opened her eyes. The trembling from pain had stopped. Her cloudy, hazy pupils now held deep hexagonal irises, capturing new light. The mark of a mage. Proof her gray talent had awakened.
Blinking repeatedly, her eyes gradually focused—not on him, but empty air.
"Ain."
Her voice, hoarse from days of fever, sharpened with power.
"Ain."
Her always-faint expression twisted, lips curling up excessively. Emotions boiled uncontrollably, her face eerie as her body shook. The little girl became a woman, now inevitably a witch.
But.
"…Ain."
Her slender hand rose, something rippling at her fingertips.
"Ain."
In this world, mages were called geniuses but still required long study and effort.
"Ain."
But gray talent skipped all that.
"Ain."
Utterly irrational, like speaking and walking at birth.
"Ain."
The intangible power flowing from her fingertips soon filled the room.
"Ain."
Whoosh—light spread. Murky, viscous gray.
"Ain."
Her tiny incantation between murmurs of his name was inaudible, and even if clear, her unique spell.
"Ain."
Fear gripped him amid it all, but he answered her.
"…Yeah."
He hoped. That his choice wasn't wrong. That she wouldn't become a disaster.
Even as gray filled the room, blinding eyes and deafening ears briefly, he thought so.
And so.
"…Ain, I'm hurting."
"Yeah, you did well."
Facing her dazed eyes again, he nodded. Honestly, he had no idea what she'd done. But he believed it was for both of them. That he could defy the novel's flow. Assign new roles, step forward. An extra becoming a wandering traveler. The girl meant to be an imperial calamity living an ordinary life as a woman. He believed she could choose that.
She opened her eyes and called his name.
"Ain."
Unlike before, emotions surged madly as she called him.
"Ain."
Just saying his name felt ecstatic; her lips tore upward.
Anyone seeing her would call the woman's expression grotesque, unleashing the uncontainable.
But she thought: This isn't normal, can't be the good girl. Ain would hate this. He'd distance himself. So she concluded.
Instinctively, she waved her hand. Never taught, yet she wielded something instinctively.
"Beyond the horizon."
"The sea's breath."
"I conceal them."
⟨ Suppressing Incantation ⟩
Not knowing what she uttered, she chanted, hoping to calm the whirlwind emotions, blanketing everything in gray.
And so.
"…Ain, I'm hurting."
"Yeah, you did well."
With dazed eyes again, emotions still intense but faintly subdued, she faced him.