Trap (3)
“Kihihihit…! You’ve been such a good girl, sitting pretty?”
A hazy silhouette loomed over Silvena’s reddened field of vision. Silvena cried out something at the sneer etched across Rozeta’s lips, but her voice didn’t reach. Rozeta, who’d been digging in her ear, finally seemed to notice and snapped her fingers lightly. Only then did sound return.
“Cough! You bastard… What’s your game?!”
“I told you, didn’t I? You’re bait. Just sit tight right here. Who knows? Play the part well enough, and you might even keep your life.”
Rozeta sneered at Silvena, who barely managed to move her blood-smeared lips. Silvena’s chained hands trembled faintly.
Bait.
The word Rozeta kept throwing around grated on her ears and stirred deep disgust. She wasn’t stupid enough not to grasp why this woman had kept her alive and imprisoned here instead of killing her outright. No doubt, she planned to use Silvena as a hostage to lure Aren in and drag him off. Once that role was fulfilled, her life would be spared—or so the implication went.
For the eldest daughter of House Bronheim, who valued honor above life itself, it was an insult more humiliating than any words could convey.
“Spare me your nonsense! Do you think I’d rejoice at buying my life with a friend’s?!”
“As expected of the grand duke’s daughter—your mindset is truly exceptional. Sorry, though? You don’t get a choice.”
Silvena ground her teeth at Rozeta, who clapped with not a shred of admiration on her face.
She knew it all too well, having once chewed dirt on the battlefield herself. In war, life or death hung on the victor’s whim. If Rozeta grew bored midway, Silvena died. If she wanted to savor the sight of Silvena writhing in agony after trading her friend for survival, then she lived. And as far as Silvena could guess, to this woman, human lives were worth exactly that—playthings to kill or spare on a whim.
“That said, it was pretty touching earlier. Kihihit! Who’d have thought you’d actually buy my story and not lay a hand on the shadow? That sacrificial lamb must mean a lot to you, huh?”
“Urk…!”
Silvena could only groan in anguish at Rozeta’s blatant mockery.
She’d thought it absurd from the start. Logically, why would a woman searching for Aren use some outrageous spell linking his soul to his summon’s? That’s why she’d fought back—convinced it was a lie, determined to cleave the enemy before her in one stroke.
But she couldn’t.
Hesitation crept into strikes that had flowed flawlessly on the battlefield. Recognizing Aren’s shadow as the foe and pressing the attack felt unbearably heavy.
To think I’d make such a foolish mistake…!
On the field, even if one of her house’s soldiers was turned puppet, she’d have swung without pause. She wasn’t the type to flail desperately to save a frostbitten toe, only to lose a leg. Not because she was some cold-blooded killer without blood or tears. Simply because instinct told her hesitation bred greater losses.
But the moment that foe became Aren—the instant the slimmest chance of his death emerged—she couldn’t do it.
It was hard to pin down precisely. There was a subtle difference between the things she’d sworn to protect and this one man, Aren.
“Ah, if only I could’ve told him that. His face would’ve been priceless. What a shame! A friend captured without resistance to save himself—how romantic, right?”
“…Shut your trap before I cut it off.”
“Still got some fight in that mouth, huh? Kihit! I like it.”
She’d unleashed a razor-sharp killing intent to intimidate, but Rozeta just threw her head back in her signature creaky spasm, cackling wildly. Silvena furrowed her brow.
It was like forcing life into a trampled, broken doll. That’s the impression this thing gave. Silvena didn’t even want to call it human.
“Alright, time to prep for our audience. I’ll loosen you up a bit.”
Snap.
Rozeta snapped her fingers again, and the chains binding Silvena vanished. But Silvena couldn’t resist. Her sword had long since disappeared from its sheath, and she knew better than anyone that charging barehanded here was futile.
“…What’s your angle now?”
“Kihihit! Relax. You want to see your friend, don’t you? Lady Rozeta will personally arrange the reunion!”
“……?!”
Thud…!
With those words, Rozeta reached out. A violent shock rattled Silvena’s mind, consciousness fading. She couldn’t tell what was happening. Only that something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.
Sorry, Aren.
In her dimming awareness, all Silvena could do was apologize inwardly. Her mother had taught her to return having found new things worth protecting. Yet even after finding one—Aren—she hadn’t guarded him. Instead, she’d become a burden. The ache from that stung worse than her battle wounds.
Drip.
With that, her consciousness snapped.
Damn it, what kind of psycho does this? Kidnapping Silvena of all people.
If it’s a solo job, they’re no pushover. But what’s the goal? Keeping her alive to draw me in means I’m the real target. So why me?
No clue. Rack my brain all I want, nothing fits. Must be the summer night air—too weak to cool this boiling head of mine.
“Hoo…”
I exhaled deeply to steady my chest, forcing cold logic to find the best path forward.
Common sense says it’s not a big group. One or two at most.
Even with lax vacation security at the academy, they wouldn’t miss a crowd. Plus, the bastard kept saying “I” instead of “we” the whole talk. Solo act, high odds.
But pulling off something this insane alone means they’re damn confident in their skills. And overpowering Silvena easy? At least a 6th or 7th-circle mage.
“Shit.”
Storming in solo would be suicide. Logically, call for backup. But will they wait? No guarantee they’re not watching. Call for help, and they might just kill her.
So in the end…
“…Guess I’m going alone.”
I spat the grim conclusion aloud. Decision made—no time to waste. One second sooner, I bolted toward the training grounds.
“Huff, huff…”
Sprinting full tilt from the walkway left me winded. Scenery I’d seen at dawn felt far chillier now, knowing Silvena was trapped here. Grimier, more sinister vibes. I scowled but didn’t hesitate, shoving straight into the building.
Shoooo…
Instantly, thick mana enveloped me like humid summer air—a twisted welcome to the place. Nasty stuff. Nothing like the labyrinth’s overwhelming pressure. This was sticky, slimy.
Leaking from sparring room 1 at the far left. Beckoning me over.
Creeeak…
The door I’d flung open carelessly at dawn now groaned ominously, yielding passage. Pitch-black inside, eerily silent. I’d braced for an ambush, senses razor-sharp—wasted effort.
—Kihihihit! You came. Must really want to save this girl, huh? What tear-jerking friendship!
“Fuck off and bring Silvena. She’s unharmed, right?”
The silence shattered with a voice like nails on chalkboard. I ground my teeth, spewing curses.
—A guy with a filthy mouth, eh? Kihit! Fine, fine. You’re dying to know? I’ll let you see her right now—no worries!
Fwoosh!
Lights flared with the bastard’s mocking laugh—not the room’s bright lamps, but a single spotlight, like on a dark stage for the star alone.
It illuminated empty space. I scowled. Playing games?
But that thought didn’t last.
Clack—clack—
Slowly, so slowly. Crystal-clear footsteps filled the room, mic’d up.
Then, under the light, the source appeared.
“……”
I was speechless.
There stood Silvena, hollow-eyed like she’d end it any second, sword pressed to her own throat.