Let's Be Friends Again
Let's be friends again.
He was charred pitch-black. Time seemed frozen. All Yuria could see was Ricardo's face, twisted in agonized groans floating before her eyes.
Yuria thought that as she opened her eyes. Something was wrong. Seeing Ricardo's hand, burned black like charcoal, the emotions that had just settled inside her began to crumble once more.
Ricardo leaned against the wall, breathing raggedly. Gone was his usual sturdy demeanor; he was letting out delirious moans.
"Uh...?"
Yuria rubbed her eyes. Maybe she was seeing things wrong. Whether it was the alcohol or exhaustion, the Ricardo before her didn't match the one she knew. He looked utterly drained, moaning in pain, covered in horrific scars. The sight snapped her drunken haze awake.
What's wrong with him...?
Her memories from when she was drunk wouldn't come back. Yuria strained to recall what she'd forgotten, but nothing surfaced. She vaguely remembered Hans's face, the men in black priestly robes, but not what Ricardo had done or why he was so injured. She berated herself for being so stupid.
You idiot...!
Her vision finally began to clear. As her eyes, shrouded in darkness, sharpened, she took in the wrecked surroundings. Crumbled walls. Floors scarred with sword marks. Ricardo collapsed nearby. Everything pointed to her as the cause. Everything was a mess except the space around her.
And then... the cold, lifeless corpses.
Yuria couldn't help but panic.
It's my fault again...?
Again...
Why did their bad karma keep piling up like this? Bursting with emotions on the verge of exploding, Yuria staggered toward Ricardo.
And then.
"Huh?"
Her eyes met Ricardo's, who was caught off guard.
"Ah... looks like we're in trouble."
As always, Ricardo flashed a composed smile and said,
"Sorry."
"I messed up again."
Seeing him offer that curt apology, Yuria's emotions collapsed.
* It was a face she'd never seen before. Ricardo looking so flustered like this. And Yuria had never witnessed the ever-resilient Ricardo in agony.
With trembling hands, Yuria reached out to grasp Ricardo's hand. She had to heal him. She had to mend those gruesome wounds right in front of her. Otherwise, her heart felt like it would burst and drive her mad.
"Ahhh... why..."
If she asked what had injured him, the answer would be herself—the one standing there unscathed. If she could just think straight, she'd realize the truth: she was the only one unharmed amid the devastation.
Yuria looked at Ricardo with quivering eyes. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he forced an awkward smile and apologized. His hand was blackened with necrosis. She'd treated many patients in her life, but never one with injuries this severe, she thought. The pain of healing and necrosis cycling over and over was unimaginable.
It was a wound that could kill him any moment. That was black magic for you. Magic that tormented people and stole lives. And that was the sin on Ricardo's hand—her sin.
Ricardo's wound shook Yuria to her core. In a trembling voice, she started to ask if this was because of her. If he'd gotten hurt protecting her worthless self again. But Ricardo's calm reply cut her off.
"It's nothing."
"..."
"It's not related to you, Yuria."
His steady words made her hands shake. He'd anticipated her flustered question and deflected with that nonchalant answer. Yuria bowed her head, clenched her fists, and shot back at Ricardo.
"What do you mean 'nothing'..."
"It's true."
"What do you mean 'nothing'? I'm standing here perfectly fine...! Everyone else is hurt like this because of me...! What do you mean it's okay?!"
Ricardo looked at me with panicked eyes and repeated the same excuse. His injury had nothing to do with me; it just looked weird in the dark. He spouted nonsense no elementary school kid would buy.
You expect me to believe that?
No matter how much of a fool I am.
No matter how much I blame others like an idiot.
No matter how useless I am.
Saying that... it hurts too much.
What am I supposed to do...?
The man I'd once loved is hurt. I hate it, I hate it so much... Just looking at his face tears my heart apart, and here he is being kind. Lying that it's nothing. Seeing Ricardo make those empty excuses filled Yuria with sorrow. She didn't know what to do.
Even if it were true.
In this moment, facing his apologies, Yuria felt an indescribable heaviness.
Ricardo gave an awkward laugh and carefully lowered his rolled-up sleeve. Glancing at Yuria's expression, he sneaked it down bit by bit, then struggled to his feet and offered his left hand—not his right.
"Let's go. It's too late."
Yuria shook her head.
"Get treated first."
"You know."
Ricardo shrugged.
He glanced at his injured arm and said,
"This can't be healed."
"Still..."
"It's an old wound. No need to worry."
Black magic couldn't be healed. Attempting it was illegal, and the process was far more complex than ordinary wounds. Despite Yuria's stubborn insistence, Ricardo smiled awkwardly, withdrew his hand, and said,
"Sorry for showing you something ugly."
"..."
Ugly. How could anyone call that ugly?
Yuria shook her head fiercely at his endless apologies. Ricardo turned to her with a subdued voice and cautiously brought up what had just happened.
"Just ran into some thugs. Jealous of my handsome face, probably."
To lighten the heavy mood, he joked, but when our eyes met, he flashed that awkward smile again.
"Really, it was nothing. This wound too. You know me—I don't go around getting beat up."
His words—"I don't go around getting beat up"—dropped Yuria's head to the floor.
I don't go around getting beat up...
It offered no comfort, coming from the man I'd stabbed with my own dagger. It overlapped with his current bitter smile. His excuses now just sounded like attempts to soothe me.
Finally, Ricardo glanced at the corpse on the ground and murmured,
"As for killing those guys..."
He let out a deep sigh. His exhale, expecting my scolding, made my shoulders tremble. They weren't pitiable anymore. Was it from that brutal dungeon experience? Or because Ricardo mattered more than their cold, dead fates? In this moment, she hated them instead.
Hesitating to answer, Ricardo dropped his gaze to the floor and said softly,
"I thought they might hurt you, Yuria."
"..."
"I know you hate it, but you're precious to me."
Yuria recalled all the advice Ricardo had given her over time.
—Don't meddle.
—That's for your own good.
His small pieces of guidance, while he dirtied his own hands—that history gnawed at her emotions. And then, those feelings poured out.
"You say I'm precious..."
"Then you need to take care of yourself too."
"Why...! Why do you always get hurt alone...? Why do you become the bad guy by yourself? I'm your friend too. We're friends who cry and laugh together..."
Yuria had thought this before. Even when eating alone. Even when hating Ricardo at the academy dorms. All his actions that tormented her had made her hate him while simultaneously aching her heart.
Back then, she couldn't pinpoint why.
She hated Ricardo. Everything seemed to stem from him.
But now, she knew.
It was guilt.
For not doing anything.
For taking his help... and only hating him in return.
That's why she'd hated him so much.
Fighting back tears, Yuria shouted at Ricardo,
"Let's be friends from the start again."
"..."
"Forget the past... and start over."
Yuria bit her lip hard and said,
"Let's be friends."