The Weight of Unspoken Words
"That's not it. Let us stop around here."
"B-But is that all right...? We haven't reached Death's Canyon yet..."
"It's fine. We're right in front of it anyway. Let's head back quickly."
The monotonous days passed, filled with traveling by carriage and setting up camp whenever we found a suitable spot. There were occasional monster attacks, of course, but they were hardly enough to serve as a warm-up.
"Everyone, get off! We'll be staying at this village one last time!"
When I knocked on the carriage and shouted, the mercenaries climbed out one after another—some looking perfectly fine, others disheveled as if they'd just woken up, and a few with pale faces from motion sickness.
"I hope you have good results...! Farewell!"
Once the coachmen confirmed the carriage was empty, they offered their farewells and quickly disappeared back the way they came.
"Ughhh... Have we arrived...?"
-Aigoo... My back...
-Urp...!
-Hey, go throw up over there!
The mercenaries, stretching their stiff bodies, approached me.
"........"
Cerise, with her usual cold expression, stood quietly among them and looked at me.
"It's the village right before our destination. The day is getting late... A little rest wouldn't hurt, would it?"
"You're absolutely right, Commander!"
"I can see it just ahead. Let's go find a place to rest."
We gazed at the desert village ahead, the kind you'd see in a western movie.
'...Death's Rest? The resting place of death?'
The name was ridiculously straightforward. They probably named it that because it sat right before Death's Canyon. The sign at the village entrance was half-erased, and aside from the faint glow of lanterns, there was no light at all. Not a single person could be seen wandering about, giving the place an eerie, ghost-town atmosphere.
But after days of riding in carriages and camping, none of that mattered to us. As long as there was a bed to lie on and decent food to eat!
"Let's check that building first. Follow me."
We began examining the buildings one by one.
Knock knock—
"Is anyone there?"
I knocked on the building right at the village entrance, but no sound came from within. It seemed no one lived there.
Knock knock— Knock knock—
After that, my mercenaries and I scattered, knocking on doors, but we found no one anywhere.
'Hmm. So only that building is left?'
Unlike the other buildings with no lights, a large three-story structure was the only one emitting any glow.
"Commander! We didn't find anyone over there either!"
Hans, who had been checking the opposite side, rejoined the group.
Together, we walked toward the large building with desperate hope, as if it were our last chance.
Creak— Creeeak...
With every step on the wooden stairs, an eerie sound echoed through the air.
...Did wood always make this much noise? Even the rotting floorboards at the mercenary headquarters had been quieter than this.
'....Death?'
The sign on the glowing building clearly read that word. Death? Was this a building we shouldn't enter?
....Ah. Upon closer inspection, the word "Rest" was faintly visible below, half-erased. This must be the largest inn in the village, then. It was common sense in this world that the biggest inn would share the village's name.
Creeeak...
Even the bright light pouring out felt somehow unpleasant in this chilling atmosphere... but we had no choice. I pushed open the door, which groaned just as loudly, and stepped inside.
"Whew."
The moment I entered, a wave of warmth washed over me, and I let out an involuntary sigh of relief. I'd been worried there might be lights but no people... Thankfully, the heating worked properly, and someone sat at the reception desk.
"...Welcome."
A bald man with heavy dark circles greeted me quietly. His face was so menacing that you'd believe him if he said he'd killed several people.
"Do you have a room that can accommodate my entire party?"
"...Yes. We do."
"That's a relief. How much for the room and meals?"
"...Please wait a moment."
The man, who appeared to be the innkeeper, stood up and disappeared into a back room. When he returned with a piece of paper, he glanced at the mercenaries behind me, wrote something down, and spoke.
"...Including meals and lodging, that will be 15 gold."
"Wait, 15 gold?! Isn't that far too expensive!"
Hans, standing beside me, exploded in anger at the outrageous price.
"Please don't get angry and listen for a moment."
"No! Even so...!"
"Hans. Let's hear him out first."
"....Yes."
The innkeeper's serious expression suggested there was more to the story, so I decided to listen.
"...Are you aware of the characteristics of this area?"
"No, I'm not."
How would I know? This was my first time here, and I only knew about the desert and the canyon.
"This place, where Death's Canyon exists, is also called Death's Desert. And there are only two reasons for that ominous name."
"What are they?"
"Monsters, and sandstorms. Death's Desert is home to incredibly powerful and unusual monsters. Additionally, massive sandstorms occur at regular intervals."
Ahem— After clearing his throat and taking a sip of water from a nearby cup, the man continued.
"...And these sandstorms... are so fierce that you can't see an inch ahead, strong enough to sweep away even the frailest person. You've come here for Death's Canyon, I presume. It will likely become a significant obstacle."
"....."
We hadn't heard anything about that. We came to defeat a 5-star monster, but if there were sandstorms strong enough to make opening your eyes difficult, the chances of failure were extremely high.
"...Therefore, the price of 15 gold includes lodging and meals until the sandstorm ends in four days."
"I see. Understood. A reasonable price."
"...Thank you. You appear to be mercenaries... There's a large training ground in the basement of this building. Feel free to use it."
If a training ground was included, then it was an extremely reasonable price. At this rate... we'd naturally have to pay.
"Here's 20 gold. Consider the rest... a tip."
"...Thank you! You may use any room you like. As you can see... no one ever comes here."
The man smiled brightly, his sharp features softening. It was clear that appearances didn't always reflect a person's true nature.
"Everyone, come here."
I gathered the mercenaries and explained our situation. At first, they looked confused about staying four more days, but after hearing about the sandstorms, they all nodded and went off to find their rooms.
"Cough... cough."
...I should go rest a bit too. To prepare for a battle where I'd give my all—or even my life—I needed rest, aside from a light warm-up.
"...Hup!"
Swish—!
Cerise swung her sword in the training ground, trying to shake off the restless thoughts swirling in her mind.
Whoosh—!
"Haa..."
No matter how many times she swung, thrust, or slashed, the thoughts rising in her head refused to disappear.
'Commander...'
Looking down at the sword he had given her, she thought of him once again. She needed to apologize... but she was so terrified that she couldn't bring herself to do it. Every day, every moment, she resolved to apologize, but now even approaching him felt overwhelming.
...Every time that happened, it felt like the Commander was drifting further away from me. Like he might leave at any moment.
No... No...!
Whoosh—!
Slash—!
Swish!
She began swinging her sword through the air like a madwoman. Her swordsmanship grew more refined and powerful by the day. But her heart, in contrast, seemed to wither and become more desolate with each passing moment.
"Commander. You didn't come out of your room today either."
Three days had passed since they arrived at the village. Just as the Commander had said, fierce sandstorms raged outside, making it impossible to leave. Everyone seemed to have succeeded in shaking off their fears through training, meals, and conversation. Their bodies, stiff from carriage rides and camping, were gradually recovering as well.
While everyone else was regaining their vitality, the Commander alone remained unseen. The man who never missed meals or drinking sessions, the man who never skipped training, for some reason, never stepped out of his room. He only ate when the innkeeper or Hans brought food to his door.
"Did something happen to him...?"
Cerise was worried by his unusual behavior. The other mercenaries felt the same, but whenever they approached his room to ask, they only received the same reply: that he was fine.
"........"
Suddenly, Cerise recalled a conversation she'd had with Hans the previous night while eating.
"Has something happened to you lately, Vice-Commander?"
"....Huh?"
While she was forcing down food that wouldn't go down her throat, Hans suddenly spoke to her. Flustered by the direct question, she blurted out whatever came to mind.
"Ah... Th-That's not it! It's just... my friend has a bit of a problem..."
"Ah, is that so? That's a relief, then."
"Haha..."
...I'm such an idiot. Saying it was about a friend. Cerise felt another nail driven into her heart, as if she were stabbing the Commander with a dagger herself.
"Then, may I ask what happened to this friend of yours?"
"....Huh?"
Hans asked while chewing the bread provided by the innkeeper. Normally, she wouldn't have answered, but...
"W-Well, you see..."
For some reason, the words flowed out differently than usual. Cerise spoke of her own actions and words, framing them as if they belonged to "a friend." How she had rejected his touch. How she had spoken harsh words. How she had ignored his every approach. How she wanted to apologize but couldn't because of her fear of the future. And yet, how she loved him and desired him more passionately than anyone else.
"........"
After listening to everything, Hans sat in silence for several dozen seconds, as if deep in thought.
"Haha... It wasn't a big deal, right...?"
"...Are you insane?"
"....Huh?"
Cerise thought she must have misheard or misread the situation. Because Hans, who never got angry, had a distorted expression and was swearing.
"No. That so-called friend of yours... sounds like an absolute piece of trash, doesn't she?"
"........."
"Isn't she just toying with one person... with that man? If it were me, I'd cut ties immediately. Someone like that doesn't deserve anything!"
-She's toying with one person.
-She's someone who only thinks of her own safety and doesn't consider the other person at all.
-Fear of the future, my ass. She's just not apologizing because she's scared of getting hurt herself.
-Even the push-and-pull from the past was ridiculous, trashy behavior.
As she listened to Hans spew curses for dozens of minutes, criticizing her actions right in front of her, each insult and condemnation piling up in her heart—or rather, embedding themselves into the wounds the Commander must have suffered—
"....Huh?"
Cerise realized that something had gone terribly wrong.