I Want to Believe in You
Cold seawater slapped my cheek. The instant I tried to draw breath, brine flooded my mouth.
“Puh—cough…!”
My body jerked on instinct. Flailing, my outstretched hand skidded across wet stone. Grit and broken shell scraped under my nails.
“Cough, cough…!”
Each cough burned the back of my throat. When I finally pried my eyes open, pitch darkness swallowed everything first. After a moment my vision adjusted to the gloom and the cave’s ruined interior emerged.
A jagged hole had been torn in the ceiling. Seawater dripped through it—drip, drip. At first I thought it was only droplets. Then I realized the water was streaming down the walls, gathering in the low places. It had already risen to my ankles.
I staggered upright.
“Where…” The word scraped out of me.
The cave was a wreck. Rock walls had been brutally shattered; huge stalactite columns lay uprooted and scattered. The dark pool on the floor wasn’t just seawater. It stank—thick, sickening.
A little farther on, a massive black heap lay wedged among the stones. At first I mistook it for a boulder. Then I saw the huge tentacles hanging limp and recognized it. A kraken. Dead.
Its enormous body was jammed between broken rocks. Several tentacles were embedded in the wall, dangling. One had been half-torn and still leaked black fluid. It must have been badly wounded, thrashed inside its own cave, and died where it fell.
The stench was unbearable. My stomach heaved. I clapped a hand over my mouth and turned away.
That was when I saw her.
A short distance from the kraken’s corpse, a figure in a black uniform lay collapsed.
“…Captain Grain?”
No answer. I crawled across the slick floor toward her. My knee slammed into rock as I slipped, but there was no time to register pain.
Grain lay on her side. Wet black hair clung to her cheek; her lips were bloodless.
“Captain.”
I shook her shoulder gently. Nothing.
“Captain Grain. Wake up.”
I shook harder. Her eyelids fluttered once—barely. That was all.
At least she was breathing: thin, ragged, fever-hot breaths. The moment my palm touched her forehead I froze.
“She’s burning…”
So hot I wanted to snatch my hand away. No human body should feel like that. Her breathing was shallow and rough. Even when I shook her she barely responded. It wasn’t just fever—her whole body hung limp, strengthless.
But there was no time to catalog every symptom. Water crashed down from the ceiling again. Whoosh. Thicker than before. The current rushing into the cave was visibly faster. Water that had covered my ankles now lapped at my calves.
If we stayed here we would drown. That much was certain.
I shook her shoulder again. “Get up.”
No reply.
“We’ll really die if we stay here.”
Grain’s lips moved a fraction. No sound emerged.
“Ha…”
I had one way out. Self-Destruct. If I detonated here, at least I might escape. I would probably wake in the nearest village, body wrecked, sick for days afterward. But I would live.
I looked down at Grain. If I exploded, I would open my eyes again. She would not. She had promised to take me home. Whether she could actually do it or not, abandoning the person who had said those words by blowing us both up—
“…Ah.”
Irritation flared. Why was it always like this?
I shoved wet hair off my face with the back of my hand.
“Seriously…”
I grabbed her arm and pulled. She was heavier than expected—much heavier.
“Ugh…”
Just draping one of her arms behind my neck made my spine feel ready to snap. Her body hung completely limp, offering no help.
“Just… a little cooperation, please…”
Of course there was no answer. I clenched my teeth and forced myself upright.
Splash. Cold water flew. Grain’s full weight crashed onto my back. My breath locked, but I braced against the wall and held on. Her arm hooked over my shoulder, yet her torso refused to lift properly. Her long legs dragged along the floor; the soaked uniform grew even heavier with water.
Still, we had to move. The roar from the ceiling gap was growing louder.
I peered deeper into the cave. Only darkness. But it didn’t feel completely sealed. A faint breeze brushed my left cheek—air that smelled subtly different from seawater. I couldn’t tell if it came from outside or simply circulated inside the cave. Either way, it was better than staying put.
“Fine.”
I tightened my grip on the wrist pressing down on my shoulder.
“We’re moving.”
One step. My foot slipped. Two steps. My shoulder slammed into rock. On the third step Grain’s toes caught and we nearly pitched forward together.
“Ah, damn it…!”
I bit my lip, steadied us, and kept going. Hot breath burned against my back; cold water coiled around my ankles. Panting, I took another step.
Then, from behind me, the breathing hitched violently.
At first I thought it was just a fevered groan. But—
“…Here.”
The voice was cracked, low, parched.
“You’re awake?”
Grain’s fingertips slid across my shoulder. She seemed to be trying to grip, but there was no strength.
“…The ship.”
I gritted my teeth and took another step. “I don’t know.”
“…”
“The kraken is dead.”
Only after speaking did the sting return to my throat. The black stench still clung to my nose.
“This seems to be a cave. Water keeps pouring in. I think this direction leads to an exit—we have to get out quickly.”
The moment I finished, another surge crashed from the ceiling. The roar briefly swallowed Grain’s breathing.
“Can you move at all?”
The fingers on my shoulder twitched faintly, as if trying to find purchase. They slid uselessly over wet cloth.
“…No.” A low, broken voice. “Not even my fingertips… obey me.”
“Ha…” A heavy sigh escaped me. “Then just stay on my back.”
“In that condition?”
“Would you rather we drown together?”
I forced another heavy step. “Ugh, seriously…” I clenched my teeth and hauled her arm higher. The water had risen again.
“Don’t worry. Everything will be fine. The others are definitely searching for us.”
Grain said nothing.
“You’re their captain.” I braced against the wall and pulled us forward. “They saw the kraken drag us away.” I adjusted her arm again; the wet sleeve kept slipping. “Your executive officer is out there. The rest of the navy too.”
“…”
“They aren’t the kind of people who would abandon you.”
Behind me her breath trembled.
“They won’t find us.”
I kept walking but stayed silent.
My submerged foot caught on stone and I staggered.
“Why do you think that?”
No immediate answer. Her fingertips pushed weakly at my shoulder, trying to hold on but lacking any power.
“We were swept so deep and so far that even direction is impossible to judge.” Her voice was low and fractured. “Any trace the kraken left would have been erased by the water.”
I bit my lip.
“They’ll still find us.”
“They won’t.”
“They will.” I shifted her arm again. “Try believing in the navy.”
A cough tore from behind me, rough and painful.
“Believing only gets you betrayed.”
“…”
“From the very beginning.”
Her breath hitched once in pain.
“It’s better not to believe at all.”
I bit my lip harder and pulled her arm more securely around me.
“Captain.”
“The only thing I can trust…” Her forehead dropped against my shoulder. Wet hair brushed the nape of my neck. “…is myself.”
Edel unni is too weak. That was what young Grain had always thought.
“…Ah.”
Edel stood in the middle of the training ground, staring at her empty belt. In front of the family knights and soldiers. She patted her waist for a long moment, then gave an awkward, sheepish laugh.
“I left my sword behind.”
Someone sighed quietly. “You did the same yesterday.”
“Yesterday too?”
“The day before as well.”
“…Haha, I must have been distracted.”
Edel smiled bashfully. Grain thought the smile looked a little foolish. The eldest daughter of a military family kept losing her sword.
She ran out of breath after only a short run, couldn’t complete training properly, and always collapsed onto a bench before anyone else, asking for water.
Even in important meetings it was the same. She would search frantically for critical military documents she had been clutching, only to look down at her own arms and beam.
“They were here the whole time.”
Every time, Grain felt suffocated. Not because she hated Edel—never that. Edel was kind. When Grain came back from training with scraped hands, Edel noticed first. Even if Grain insisted it didn’t hurt, Edel would pull out a handkerchief.
“It doesn’t hurt.”
“Liar.”
“It really doesn’t.”
“Then why are your fingers shaking like that?”
Edel never scolded. She simply took Grain’s hands gently in her own. That only made it worse. The person Grain loved most in the world was too weak. She always looked like someone who needed another person beside her.
One day Grain couldn’t hold it in any longer.
“Unni, you really are weak.”
“Am I?” Edel asked with a smile.
Grain nodded firmly. “Yes. So I’ll become stronger and protect you.”
“Oh, our sweet Grain. Just hearing that makes me feel safe.”
The words made Grain happy. She really believed she could protect Edel. Because Edel unni was weak and couldn’t do anything alone. Because someone always had to stay by her side.
Yet strangely, people never left Edel’s side. Renowned nobles. Arrogant mages. Knights famous on the battlefield. They never laughed at her.
Even when she smiled awkwardly, trailed off mid-sentence, or panicked because she couldn’t remember where she had put something, they waited patiently. And in the end they stood beside her.
Grain couldn’t understand why. Edel unni was weak. Careless, frail, sometimes downright foolish. So why did those people stay near her?
The most incomprehensible of all was Tasha unni.
Tasha was nothing like Edel. She was strong. In the training yard she parried the instructor’s blade with a laugh.
In meetings she half-ignored the elders of the house. Her uniform buttons were often undone; when rules were mentioned she would prop her chin on her hand in open boredom.
“Unni would be in big trouble without me.” Tasha said it often.
Edel would smile awkwardly. “It’s not that bad, Tasha.”
“It is that bad.”
“It really isn’t.”
“It really is.”
Tasha would grin. When Edel stood there looking troubled, Tasha would grumble but still step up beside her. If Edel dropped something, Tasha picked it up first. If Edel hesitated in front of others, Tasha moved forward before anyone else.
Tasha was always half a step ahead of Edel. Grain envied that place—beside Edel unni. The spot where she could catch her before she fell. The spot that kept anyone from treating her carelessly even though she looked weak.
Someday Grain wanted to stand there too. She would become as strong as Tasha unni. Strong enough to stand beside Edel.
So Grain never let go of her sword. Even when her palms split open, she gripped it. Even when her arms shook, she lifted it. Even when her lungs burned, she swung once more.
Every time, Edel would come over. She would produce a handkerchief. Grain would obediently hold out her hands. And all the while she thought: I have to become stronger. Like Tasha. Strong enough to stand beside Edel unni.
That day was the same.
Standing on the coastal battlefield, Grain thought she had finally come close to that place. The sea churned black. Blood spread across wet sand. Smoke rose from the shattered pier; burning ship fragments washed in with the waves. Acrid smoke clawed at her throat.
Grain had been searching for Edel. She had heard that Edel’s formation had collapsed. Then came the screams. Then the shouts. And then—
“Tasha betrayed us!”
Grain’s heart stopped. She thought she had misheard. It couldn’t be. Not Tasha unni. Not her.
She shoved through the crowd. Wet sand slid under her boots. Someone grabbed her shoulder; she shook them off. An explosion detonated. Her ears rang. Dirt and seawater sprayed her face. She kept running.
And then she saw.
Edel lay fallen on the wet sand. The proud white uniform she had always worn was soaked dark with blood. Her hand lay limp on the ground. Tasha stood in front of her. Blood covered her hands, her sword, the cuffs of her sleeves.
At first Grain thought the blood must be Tasha’s. It had to be. But Tasha was standing. Edel was not.
Tasha looked at her. Grain couldn’t read the meaning in those eyes.
Around them the same cries kept exploding. Tasha betrayed us. Lady Edel has fallen. The commander is down.
Grain tried to chase Tasha. She wanted an explanation, anything. She took a step, reached out. But her feet wouldn’t move. Edel’s hand. Tasha’s bloodstained sleeve. The word betrayal. Everything crashed over her at once.
BOOM—!
Another explosion detonated nearby. The ground shook. Smoke flooded her lungs. Her vision tilted. The last thing she remembered was Tasha’s blood-covered hand.
After that—nothing.
When she woke, Tasha was gone. Edel was gone.
After that day, the word family could no longer be trusted. Not even family.
Edel had not been alone. Proud nobles had followed her. Mages had bowed to her words. Knights celebrated on the battlefield had stood at her side. Tasha had been there—the one Grain had never once defeated, the one who stood closest to Edel.
Yet Edel had still died. Despite so many people around her. Despite someone so strong guarding her. In the end, no one had protected her.
The single lesson Grain learned that day was this: Trust no one. Not the kind family who shared your blood. Not the comrades who stood back-to-back with you in battle. The moment you entrusted something to another, everything ended beyond the reach of your own hands.
Therefore only one thing could be trusted.
Yourself. Only what you could see with your own eyes, seize with your own hands, and cut down yourself.
“Captain.”
My voice scattered among the sounds of rushing water. Grain didn’t answer. I adjusted her arm again; the soaked uniform kept slipping in my palm.
“I don’t know why you can’t trust others so much.”
My breath was coming in short gasps. “Honestly, I don’t even have the energy to be curious right now.”
My toes caught on rock. I pitched forward but caught myself against the wall.
“But I am getting out of here alive.”
Behind me Grain’s breath trembled.
“…You won’t.”
“I will. Trust me.”
Grain said nothing. I hauled her arm higher. My shoulders burned. The water now constantly battered my calves. Every step sent cold spray up to my knees.
“If we go by what you said, this is the end.”
The inside of my throat stung again. “The navy won’t find us. We won’t find the exit. I’ll collapse from exhaustion.”
“…”
“Then it really would be over.”
Grain’s fingertips slid weakly across my shoulder. I caught her hand before it could fall and readjusted my grip.
“But I don’t like those odds.”
“…What?”
“Let’s make a bet.”
The breathing behind me faltered for a split second.
“A bet… here?”
“If you can’t believe me, then bet on me.” I gritted my teeth and took another step. “If I’m wrong, it ends like you said.”
“…”
“But if I’m right—” My hand braced against the rock wall slipped. My nails scraped. I didn’t stop. “Whether the navy finds us or I find the exit—” My voice kept breaking as my breath grew shorter. “If we get out of here alive somehow—”
I lowered my head slightly. The hot breath on the back of my neck brushed my skin.
“From then on… believe in me at least a little.”
Grain didn’t answer. Only the sound of water filled the cave. I decided to take her silence as agreement.
“You don’t have to answer.”
Another step.
“Because I’m definitely going to win this bet.”
No reply came. Grain’s hot breath scattered across my shoulder. The water had risen past my thighs and was now slamming against my waist. Every step made my feet slip. My toes caught in crevices; the wet uniform kept trying to slide from my grasp. Still I didn’t stop.
There really was wind.
“Just a little farther…” I didn’t know if I was talking to Grain or to myself. “Just a little more and…”
Rustle.
The hopeful words I had pushed through the darkness snapped off uselessly.
The path ahead was completely blocked by a massive rock wall.
At first the darkness had hidden it. I reached out and felt. What met my wet fingers wasn’t open air but cold, rough stone. I ran my palms over it—side to side, up, down. Completely sealed.
A huge boulder and pile of earth had collapsed and plugged the passage. Black mucus from the kraken still clung to the rocks. There wasn’t even a gap for a single finger.
I scratched at the cracks until my nails hurt. Nothing gave. I pushed harder. It didn’t budge.
“…As expected,” Grain’s low voice murmured.
I didn’t answer.
“It’s over.”
“Not yet. It’s not over yet.” My voice shook. Or maybe my whole body was shaking. The water kept rising. It now battered above my waist. Grain’s body, buoyed by the water, grew even harder to hold. I hooked her arm more deeply over my shoulder.
That was when I saw light above.
High up—high enough that I had to crane my neck—a thin crack ran through the collapsed rubble. It looked wide enough for a few fingers. Beyond it stretched dark rock, and at the very end a needle-thin beam of moonlight pierced through. Wind was leaking from there too.
I drew a breath.
“Here!” My voice rang through the cave. “There are people here!”
The only answer was my own echo, distorted by water and stone.
I shouted again. “The captain is here too!” My throat tore. “Is anyone there?!”
Again, only echoes. No one answered.
“It’s useless,” Grain muttered.
I clenched my teeth. “Even so!”
Grain’s fingertips slipped from my shoulder. I grabbed her hand tightly.
“We still have to try!” My throat burned. “Here!”
This time almost no sound came out. A cough exploded first. My throat scraped raw; my breath wouldn’t catch. No sound came from outside.
I looked up at the crack. My voice couldn’t reach. A person couldn’t get through. But light might.
I lifted my wet hand. My fingertips trembled. I knew roughly what would happen if I used magic in this condition. The brand on the back of my neck was already hot. Beneath skin that should have been chilled by water, it throbbed like heated iron.
Still, if we stayed like this we would die.
I gathered power at my fingertips. Calling it gathered was generous. A tiny spark of light flickered on my palm, threatening to go out. My breath locked. It felt like something inside me was being forcibly ripped out. Heat flared at my nape and a sharp pain raced down my spine.
I raised my hand higher. A light this small would never be seen by someone far away. Even someone nearby might miss it, thinking the moonlight had simply wavered.
Still—if anyone was close—
I gritted my teeth and pushed the light upward. It didn’t rise cleanly. It scraped and flickered inside the narrow crack. My consciousness nearly blinked out.
“…!” The taste of blood rose in my throat. I swallowed it and forced the last of my strength upward.
The tiny orb of light climbed the fissure—thin, unsteady. Then, very high above, it burst.
It was barely enough to call a flash. The moonlight seemed to waver for an instant and then vanished. My fingertips shook without sensation. My arm felt heavy, as if it no longer belonged to me.
No sound came.
The seawater continued to rise. It had been hitting me below the chest; now it shoved my body with every breath. Grain’s chin was about to slip under, so I hurriedly pulled her higher.
Then, from above, a very small sound.
At first I thought it was water striking rock. But other noises mixed in—hurried footsteps on wet stone, scraping, low voices exchanging words.
I lifted my head.
“He…re…” My voice wouldn’t carry. I dragged in another breath. My lungs felt like they would tear.
“Here!”
The sounds above stopped. I shouted again.
“We’re here!”
For a heartbeat—then a shout exploded.
“Over here!”
Other voices joined in.
“Below!”
I stared up, dazed.
“It’s Ria!”
“The captain’s with her!”
“The water’s rising!”
“Hurry!”
The moment I heard those words, strength left my legs. I barely managed to prop myself against the wall before we slipped under. My back met cold stone.
We were saved. They had really found us.
I tightened my arms so I wouldn’t drop Grain. I tried to smile, but I wasn’t sure it worked.
“Looks like… I won the bet.”
My breath kept breaking. I swallowed the metallic taste of blood and spoke again.
“I won, didn’t I?”
Grain was watching me with half-open eyes. Her gaze was cloudy. The fever made her pupils tremble, unable to focus properly. Her fingertips clutched at my clothes. There was almost no strength in them.
“I… can’t believe.”
Her voice sank quietly beneath the sound of water.
“Not even family.”
Her fingers wouldn’t let go of my clothing.
“If you trust others, you become weak. And that weakness… eventually kills you.”
I couldn’t tell whether her clouded eyes were looking at me or somewhere far away.
“My sister.”
“But in the end, the one who saved you was weak little me.”
Grain’s eyes slowly turned toward me. I didn’t know if I was smiling properly or not.
“The one weaker than you, the one who nearly died just now.”
“…”
“You might not have believed it, but I did.”
The shouts from above still echoed faintly.
“I believed the navy would be looking for us.”
I squeezed the hand gripping her uniform.
“And they really came.”
Grain said nothing. I swallowed once. The taste of blood lingered in my throat.
“It was a bet, remember?” I forced the corners of my mouth up. “You’re not going to back out, are you?”
Grain’s fingertips stiffened slightly. After a long moment her lips moved slowly.
“…Can I believe?”
“What?”
She looked at me. “Can I really… believe in you?”
I tried to answer. My voice wouldn’t come right away. Shouts continued from above.
“Hurry!”
“Water’s flooding the inside!”
Listening to them, I gave a small nod.
“Yes.” My breath caught in my throat, but I spoke anyway. “As much as you want.”
Only then did the tension leave her fingertips. Grain’s forehead came to rest on my shoulder. It was scalding, like it would burn me. I pulled her close one last time so she wouldn’t slip into the water.
That was when I saw it.
The corners of Grain’s mouth—her eyes closed—had lifted the tiniest bit. It was a face I had never seen before.
Not the usual furrowed brow, the rigid endurance, the commanding expression. The constant tension had drained away, leaving a quiet, light, comfortable smile.
It’s all right now.
The thought drifted through my mind as the world slowly darkened before my eyes.