The Burning Heart
Revenge is often depicted in media as having the nature of fire. Phrases like "a blazing desire for vengeance" or "a burning heart of revenge" compare it to flames, and I find that to be a fitting analogy. Revenge begins to burn by using one's dark heart as kindling. Anger, sorrow, insults… such emotions are quickly swallowed and consumed by the fire of revenge. Eventually, only the small, demonic flame of vengeance remains within, beginning to incinerate both body and mind.
By the time it reaches this stage, the initial desire for revenge is bound to fade. Even those who once declared their vengeance with sky-high fury often turn their eyes away as time passes, claiming that "living well is the best revenge." As humans, we naturally prioritize our own peaceful lives. Even if one has ignited a flame within, they are bound to change their mind the moment that fire dares to burn too greedily. They realize, upon weighing it on a scale, that it isn't worth the cost.
However, there are people in this world who will finish their revenge even if it means turning everything they own into ash. Broadly speaking, there are two types of such people: those who diligently fed the fire to achieve their goal, or those whose inner spark was an unquenchable hellfire. And from what I’ve seen, the protagonist was neither. He simply kept repeating the hollow words of "revenge" over and over.
After hearing the news at the guild, the protagonist declared a temporary closure, and we returned to the inn. He sat on the edge of the bed, lost in thought. His face looked deeply troubled. What could he be worrying about? Is he wondering if the series of events in the back alleys are related to Onyxia? Or is he struggling because he lacks connections to the underworld? Perhaps he’s contemplating whether he should return to the root of the problem and pursue Onyxia after all.
To be honest, I couldn't understand the protagonist's obsession with Onyxia. Betrayed? Sure, that’s infuriating. But… the protagonist is still alive, isn't he? Edenia is a cookie-cutter medieval fantasy world. Living in a massive city like Silverion—and in a safe district at that—has dulled my sense of reality, but this world was never that lenient to begin with. The streets are crawling with pickpockets and vagrants, and even a minor scuffle can cost you your life. Buying and selling slaves is a matter of course, and the streets are filled with armed groups and individuals roaming about, even if they have permits. And you got your pockets picked after being betrayed in a place like this? If you tried to vent your grievances to anyone passing by, they’d probably ask why your head is still attached to your neck.
It might sound strange, but Onyxia had already shown the protagonist enough mercy. That was true even during the last ambush. Onyxia was a skilled rogue. One look at how she dominated the protagonist throughout their duel was enough to prove that. She could have easily finished off someone like Meredith, who had approached her so clumsily. But she didn't. She simply neutralized her with paralysis powder. The protagonist must have judged that Meredith wouldn't lose her life even in the worst-case scenario, which is why he allowed the negotiation, however reluctantly.
If a powerhouse has let you off the hook several times, why keep obsessing over her? Was she a heroine? Then what about Ameryel and Meredith? Did he let them go because they weren't original heroines? Was she his "best girl"? That might be a possibility. But do people usually burn with such vengeance for a character like that? Usually, you'd try to resolve the underlying issue and recruit them as a companion. It might not be for some meta-reason, but simply because of the bond formed after falling into this world. Given that Onyxia and the protagonist use the same weapons and fighting styles, that seemed like a plausible theory. But even that doesn't answer the question of *why* he is so obsessed with Onyxia. What does he want to do when he finds her?
There is a subtle emotion flowing between the protagonist and Onyxia. A feeling of hatred, yet also trust—a sentiment even fainter than love-hate. Hazel didn't have the power to delve into that. Hazel wasn't a transmigrator, nor an adult, and certainly not someone who could embrace the protagonist's troubles. The poor, orphaned child Hazel—a setting that had been quite helpful until now was now holding me back. Another shackle. It was absolutely exhausting.
While I was lost in thought, the protagonist seemed to have finished organizing his ideas.
"Hazel, are you done resting?"
"Yes."
"Then let's go."
After that brief exchange, he stood up, dusted himself off, and left the inn. The bell tied to the entrance jingled. Business was resuming. In the end, it seemed the protagonist had decided to investigate the commotion in the back alleys. Thinking back on what I’d overheard at the guild, it didn't seem like a place where an outsider could get off easily. Places where minor factions run rampant are often merciless to individuals. Worry gnawed at me.
The place we visited with that goal in mind was, surprisingly, Woman's Smile. I realized it halfway there. We visited so often I could find my way there with my eyes closed. Regardless of that, it was the right choice. I had wondered if the protagonist had ties to the underworld since he was a rogue, but if he didn't, this was the best place for information gathering that I knew of. The sex trade and the entertainment business are always intertwined with the dark side.
Today, we walked straight through the front door. I couldn't predict how the reaction would differ when I was with the protagonist rather than alone. A customer and a "customer's guest" are treated differently, after all. If I relied too much on our familiarity, I might end up losing even that.
It was also embarrassing to be seen entering the representative establishment of the red-light district so familiarly. Was it because it was lunchtime? The atmosphere inside the shop seemed different from when we visited in the evening. How should I put it? A bit calmer… would it be accurate to say it felt more like a regular restaurant? As I walked slowly, looking around, I caught the eye of a waitress moving through the shop. It was an elf I recognized. She smiled happily when she saw me and started to approach, but then she tilted her head, sensing something was off. *Why is she coming in here?* That was the look on her face.
Seeing the elf, I held up my index finger to my lips. It was a gesture for her to be quiet. It was the same in Edenia. The elf watched me for a moment, then started to giggle. Her face was full of mischief. A sense of unease washed over me.
"Two meals, no drinks," the protagonist said, pulling a sack from his coat and sliding it across to the elf. "In exchange, I'd like to hear some interesting stories while we eat."
The elf weighed the pouch lightly and loosened the drawstring to peek inside. After quickly counting the contents, she smiled brightly and said, "My, aren't you bold for broad daylight."
She then pulled up an empty chair and sat down next to the protagonist. The protagonist looked flustered. Whether he liked it or not, the elf waved to call over another waitress wandering nearby. As expected of an elf. "Two meals, no drinks. I need to have a 'talk' with the customer. Got it?" She gave a light wink.
The elf who was asked looked confused, wondering why she was doing this, but after glancing back and forth between me and the protagonist, she said, "Understood," and headed to the kitchen with a giggle.
The elf who remained at the table said, "Customer, I'm Viola. It's a pleasure to meet you." She then immediately linked her arm with the protagonist and pressed her body against him. The protagonist jumped in surprise and looked at Viola with a flustered expression. I felt like I roughly understood what these elves were thinking.
What followed was horrific. The protagonist was brutally ravaged by Viola's conversational skills. Well, a young man in the prime of his youth couldn't possibly win a verbal battle against a hostess seasoned in the art of hospitality. Every time the protagonist tried to steer the conversation toward the back alleys, Viola would press her body closer or spin the topic away. She’d compliment him, or whisper something slightly erotic. Things like that.
At first, he tried to resist, but now he was just blushing furiously, only managing to chime in with, "Yes," "I see," or "Is that so?" Once the food arrived, it was even more ridiculous. He couldn't even speak; she was physically blocking his mouth. Whenever he tried to say something, she would cut a piece of meat small and feed it to him, tear off a bit of bread, or wipe his mouth. She was a temptress if I ever saw one.
On top of that, perhaps the elf who went to the kitchen earlier had spread the word, but one by one, workers started sneaking out from the back, pretending to work while stealing glances at us. It wasn't just the elves; it seemed like all the hostesses and dancers I’d become acquainted with were watching. I was mortified. The protagonist seemed to have given up on talking entirely. *The money you gave for information is turning into a tab and draining away in real-time—are you okay with this? Why don't you just announce to the whole neighborhood that you're a pushover? Look, even that elf passing by is watching to see what the 'sugar daddy' looks like…*
Ah. I made eye contact with Flora. She grinned and started walking toward us. *I just want to go home.*