Reunion
I had already been on the front line for ten full years.
During all that endless time, countless people had died beside me, yet I was still breathing.
When I first arrived here, no one would have bet that I would survive this long.
I was a seventeen-year-old orphan who had never even held a sword properly and lied about my age just to join the mercenary band.
On the day I killed my first person, my hands had shaken so badly I could barely grip the hilt.
When I first saw a monster, the only thing I could do was fight the urge to run, using every ounce of strength I had.
Was that good fortune?
Actually, I had a certain talent for cutting and fighting.
I hadn’t learned any proper swordsmanship.
I only knew the gutter-level fighting style that veteran mercenaries passed down.
They called it Arang-sik.
It wasn’t anything spectacular.
It was simply the art of cutting throats to stay alive.
Far removed from honor, knightly glory, or any of that nonsense.
It was the only sword technique that existed: kill the enemy and survive.
But it was enough.
After I killed the first one, I killed two more.
Day after day, hour after hour, I survived.
Only when I finally looked up at the sky did I realize that the number of demon beasts and monsters whose heads I had severed with my blade had grown so vast I could barely count them.
Of course, talent didn’t mean I had never come close to death.
There had been far too many close calls.
I had once been stabbed through the gut.
I had crawled through the night forest with an arrow lodged in my back.
I had survived being ripped open by monster claws and trapped beneath a dead comrade’s corpse for nearly a full day without even breathing properly.
The price I paid for every single one of those survivals was a collection of scars I could never erase.
Scars on my face, across my chest, down my back.
If you placed the seventeen-year-old me from the orphanage next to the man I was now, side by side, even a mother wouldn’t have believed they were the same person.
I had shot up in height.
Years of rolling around on the battlefield had thickened my frame.
A jagged scar now sliced across my left eyebrow.
I had never bothered with proper haircuts, so I had simply tied my long hair back roughly to keep it out of my eyes during fights.
Now I was twenty-four.
Ten years had passed since I left the orphanage at seventeen.
Counting only the memories I actually had, I had spent half my life on the war front.
And nothing had changed in those ten years except for my appearance.
At the very beginning, no one even remembered my name.
I was just another green recruit.
But every time I brushed death aside, every time I survived and cut down an enemy, people began to gather around me.
At first there were just a few.
Then ten.
Then dozens.
Eventually, when I stepped forward, entire groups of mercenaries followed without being told.
Older men than me.
Battle-hardened veterans.
None of them cared about my age or where I had come from.
On the front line, who fought better and who was most likely to bring you home alive mattered far more than anything else.
So at some point, no one knew exactly when, people started calling me Chief instead of my name.
“Chief.”
I turned my head at the voice coming from beside me.
One of my subordinates wiped dried blood from his blade and looked up at me.
“Word is the Hero Party is coming here today.”
“Really?”
“You’re not interested, Chief? They say the Hero’s face is beautiful even up close.
It’s been years since I last saw something that made my mouth water.”
“…”
“I know.”
“Huh?”
“It’s nothing.”
I muttered the words, still half-distracted, and picked up my sword.
Today the Hero Party was coming to this front line.
I had first heard the rumor only a few days ago.
For the massive offensive that was about to begin, the Hero Party would be moving all the way to the front.
Ten years.
Thinking about it now, it really had taken forever.
I had fled the orphanage the day I decided I was going to find Arien.
Yet here I was, twenty-four years old.
Throughout those years I had heard countless stories about her.
The Hero chosen by the Holy Sword.
The one who had slain the monster they called the Apocalypse and saved the city on the verge of falling.
The one who had cut down countless demons in the process.
And naturally, I heard stories about the companions who fought beside her.
The Saintess, who could revive anyone—even those on the brink of death—thanks to the god’s blessing.
The Great Archmage, who could cast spells that required dozens of mages working together, all by himself.
The Great Chieftain, who had united hundreds of tribes in the northern reaches into one mighty alliance.
And the Elf Archer, the oldest hunter in the Elf Forest.
Ordinary people would rarely meet any of them in a lifetime.
Yet here they were, gathered together to bring down the Demon King.
The Hero Party.
Every time the mercenaries gossiped about them, I felt a quiet relief that Arien was still alive.
I held on with nothing but the thought that someday we would meet again.
“What would she say if she saw me like this?”
I stared at my reflection in the shallow puddle of water beside me.
My face had changed a lot from the one Arien remembered.
Ten years had passed.
Even if she didn’t recognize my face right away, it wouldn’t be strange.
But the necklace would give her away.
Then what would she say?
Would she start worrying? Or would she start yelling?
I figured she would start yelling.
“What the hell are you doing following me all the way to the front?!”
Then, as she spotted every scar on my body, she would probably look ready to cry and demand to know why I had gotten so hurt.
What should I say?
“I came because I missed you”? That would only make her cry again.
Just as I was thinking some nonsense like that, a faint smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.
And right then.
“Waaaaaaaah!”
A huge cheer began to echo from somewhere far away.
Everyone around me turned their heads toward the same direction at once.
Some soldiers even sprang to their feet and craned their necks, staring into the distance.
“They’re here!”
“It’s the Hero!”
“Chief, look over there!”
At my subordinates’ words, I naturally followed the sound of the cheers.
At first the crowd of people made it hard to see anything clearly, but little by little the shapes of the Hero Party emerged.
There was the Saintess in her pure white cleric robes, waving her hand gently in greeting to the cheering crowd.
Walking beside her with a staff casually slung over her shoulder, looking annoyed at the whole thing, was the Great Archmage.
Behind them loomed the massive Great Chieftain, carrying a battle-axe nearly as tall as he was, and at the very back, the Elf Archer—long ears, quiet, watching everything with unblinking attention.
And right in the middle of them all, the color I had never forgotten even once.
For a moment, the cheers and voices around me seemed to fade into nothing.
Golden blonde hair glowing brilliantly in the sunlight.
Green eyes that sparkled like jewels.
Even after ten years, I recognized her instantly.
She was a little taller.
Her face had matured.
Instead of the old orphanage rags, she wore armor so dazzlingly white it hurt to look at.
None of that mattered.
I had never forgotten her for even a single second.
She was Arien.
“A….”
A small sound slipped from my throat.
She was alive.
We had finally met.
My heart pounded so hard I thought it would burst.
I wanted to shove through the crowd and shout her name right then.
To tell her I had been fine.
To say how much I had missed her.
To say I had come here because I missed her.
But the moment my eyes landed on her neck, I froze.
There was no necklace.
A plain white throat.
No trace of the necklace we had both worn for so many years.
“…”
At first I thought I was seeing things.
Maybe the distance was too great.
Maybe the armor or her clothes hid it.
So I narrowed my eyes and stared at her neck over and over again.
There was nothing.
Why?
Why was it gone?
We had promised to buy matching necklaces.
If anything ever happened and we got separated, we swore that one day we would meet again and recognize each other with that necklace.
On our last day, we cried while promising never to let go of it.
I had even told her, “When we meet again, keep a firm grip on your necklace so you can recognize me.”
But now… why was hers missing?
The small metal charm suddenly felt unbearably heavy in my trembling hand.
This necklace had been the most precious thing I owned.
Even on the battlefield where lives were lost every second, I had checked it countless times to make sure I hadn’t lost it.
Even if I was injured, I had made sure to protect that necklace above all else and kept it safe in my hand.
But Arien’s neck had nothing.
Didn’t we promise that even if we had to part, we would use this necklace as proof to recognize each other someday?
What had become of the promise we made while crying together that day?
I had survived this hell all these years because I was trying to keep that promise.
So then… why had I come here at all?
After ten years of fighting just to stay alive… what was I even fighting for?
“Chief, step aside for a moment.
The Hero is coming through.”
At the subordinate’s voice, I finally snapped out of it.
The Hero Party had already come quite close.
And right in the center of them, Arien was walking straight toward me, as if drawn by some invisible thread.
Just moments ago I had been thinking the same silly thoughts—worrying or yelling.
But now something terrifying gripped me.
What if she saw the necklace?
What should I do?
In that instant, I felt myself being seized by panic, like a fool who had been hypnotized.
Somehow, I shoved the necklace deep inside my clothes.
I didn’t know exactly why I did it.
Maybe I had always known.
I didn’t want her to find out that I had been clinging to that silly old promise all alone.
Just as I finished hiding it, Arien walked straight past me.
So close.
Close enough that if I had stretched out my hand I could have touched her.
Close enough that if I had simply raised my voice, she would have heard me call her name.
So I stood there and simply watched her.
Even without the necklace, maybe she would recognize my face.
Despite the years and how much I had changed, I refused to let go of the tiny hope that our eyes would meet again and she would remember the old me.
And then, a moment later, Arien’s green eyes turned toward me.
For just an instant, her gaze swept across my face.
My heart stopped.
But that was all.
Just like the countless soldiers and mercenaries guarding the front line, she glanced once in my direction.
Her expression didn’t change at all.
She looked straight ahead again and walked right past me without pausing or even glancing back.
Arien hadn’t recognized me.
I stood there in a daze, watching her figure grow smaller and smaller in the distance.
I couldn’t help the hollow laugh that escaped my lips.
“Haa….”
Yeah.
That made sense.
So much time had passed.
My appearance had changed so much.
Height, scars, long hair tied roughly behind my head.
The boy from the orphanage might not even exist in her memories anymore.
I could understand why she hadn’t recognized my face.
But what about the necklace?
Did she forget that too?
The girl who had cried with me that day, forced a smile, told me to forget about her, and swore she would never let go of that necklace.
The same girl who had promised, “When we meet again, we’ll use this to recognize each other.”
I had never forgotten her.
Because I was still here, still fighting in this hellish place, I had survived.
I had survived the sword.
I had survived the arrow in my back.
I had clung to life even as my friends died one by one.
Because I told myself, “If I die, I’ll never see her again.”
But now I had no idea why I was still alive.
Why I had come all this way.
After ten years of survival, what exactly was I fighting for?
There was only one thing I was certain of.
Now that I had survived, the reason to keep going had vanished.