IF. True End. People (1)
Return them. Everything.
A gust of wind blew once. Then, nothing could be felt.
The cold sensation in my hand faded away, the dagger's chill grew faint, and the smell of soil receded into the distance. I closed my eyes and cautiously opened them again. There was an old mirror. A girl with silver hair and red eyes stared straight back at me from it, in a small room. My hands, when I looked down, were clean. Not a drop of blood.
I tried summoning the shadows, but there was no response. Not from my fingertips, not from beneath my feet.
“……Sorry, Ailin.”
I spoke to the girl on the other side of the mirror. Of course, there was no reply, but there were words I had to say anyway.
“I ruined everything.”
Yeah. Everything had been wrong from the very start. Killing the villagers, killing Ethan……
I shook my head. I would atone. I'd spend the rest of this life quietly washing away my sins. That was the only repayment I could give to Adelaide.
The street where I walked with Ethan. Tall, with brown hair. The protagonist, and my childhood friend.
I snapped out of my reverie. He was looking at me with concern.
“What're you thinking about?”
“……Nothing.”
That was how I'd answered the same question back then too. Though I'd averted my eyes. This time, I met his gaze head-on. My face reflected in Ethan's black pupils.
There was no unpleasant chasm. No sensation like bugs crawling over my skin.
Just the weight pressing on my chest—the fact that the man whose throat I'd slit was alive and worrying about me.
“You're acting kinda weird today.”
“……Where?”
“Dunno. Your eyes seem different.”
“……Yeah?”
“Yeah. Like someone with a lot on their mind.”
I had no idea. Could you really tell that kind of thing? There hadn't been anything different about my face when I'd checked earlier. I swept my hair back with my hand. A stray bang fell over my eyes.
Adelaide would have brought a cloth to wrap it, tapped the top of my head at the end, and turned away.
……She wasn't here. That hand wasn't here.
I closed my eyes for a moment. Then opened them again. Ethan's village was alive. People bustled along the streets. Smoke rose from the bakery, children ran through the square. A woman drew water at the well, a man pulled a cart. My feet stopped.
My breath caught in my throat, but I didn't cry. I didn't have the right to.
As I passed the bakery, the shopkeeper poked his head out.
“Ailin, you're out early today?”
“……Yes.”
“Here, take some bread. Baked extra this morning.”
Warm bread was pressed into my hand. I bit into the brown crust and soft white interior; the texture teased my tongue. As I chewed and swallowed while walking, people greeted me. I nodded back wordlessly.
I couldn't remember all their faces. But I remembered the village burning. The screams, the people tripping as they fled.
Now, that scene overlapped with the one before me.
A child came running up and tugged at my skirt.
“Sister Ailin, you're so pretty!”
“……”
I sidestepped before her hand could reach my silver hair. The child grasped at empty air.
“Can't I touch?”
“……No.”
“Aww.”
She puffed out her cheeks and ran off into the distance. I watched her lively retreating figure and let out a breath.
In the evenings, I'd climb the hill at the village's edge and sit. It wasn't high, overgrown with grass. Sitting in the middle, the whole village sprawled below. I'd watch the sunset paint the sky. As the red light slid across the rooftops, shadows stretched long.
Adelaide's memories overlapped. The day she talked about the Estia family, about wooden swords.
Ethan sat beside me and spoke.
“You come here a lot.”
“Yeah.”
“Whatcha looking at?”
“……Just the sunset.”
“Alone?”
“Alone.”
“Mind if I join?”
“……Do whatever.”
“Not lonely?”
“……No.”
I hadn't even known what loneliness was before. I'd sat in front of a screen, killing time with meaningless things.
Then, surrounded only by NPCs, I'd thought there was no reason to feel lonely. You couldn't be lonely among things that weren't people.
It was only after meeting Adelaide that I understood. Loneliness—what it meant when someone who had been by your side vanished.
After Ethan left, I sat alone watching the stars rise. No one beside me. It was natural, but Adelaide had walked at my side for so long that the emptiness felt huge.
I placed my hand on the grass. At this point, Adelaide would be in the palace at Istius. Serving safely as vice-captain of the Royal Guard. Her subordinates all fine too, probably. Zenon, Kairin, Derek, and the rest.
All the rest.
She didn't know me. No reason she would remember.
After all, I'd been the one to turn back time.
For an instant, something crushed my chest. But I repeated to myself: this was the right choice.
As long as she's alive. As long as Adel is alive, that's enough.
A few days passed. Spending each day in the village was harder than I'd imagined.
It was strange. Living among people was more difficult than killing them.
Every morning, I'd wake, wash my face, stand before the mirror trying to tie my hair. I kept mixing up the order—right to left with the cloth. It took until the third day to manage a tie that wouldn't come loose. I gave up on the stubborn bangs.
I went to the stream to do laundry once. Ethan insisted on coming along, and I couldn't refuse. Wetting the clothes and scrubbing them against a rock felt utterly unfamiliar. The original Ailin probably never had, and neither had I after possessing her. When wandering with Adelaide, we'd just rinsed them roughly by the river and hung them to dry. Cleanliness hadn't mattered then. We had to keep moving, stay hidden—laundry was a luxury.
Ethan demonstrated beside me. Like this, like that.
……Honestly, Ethan was clumsy too.
“You're surprisingly bad at this.”
“What? I'm pretty good.”
“……Water's splashing everywhere.”
“That's 'cause you're standing too close……”
When water splashed on my clothes, Ethan apologized. It didn't matter, but we decided I'd do laundry alone after that.
That was how it was supposed to be.
“Ailin, you got someone you like?”
“……I did.”
“Did? Past tense?”
“……Someone far away.”
“Far? Another village?”
“……Much farther.”
“Does that person like you?”
“……Dunno.”
“If you don't like not knowing, just go ask.”
“Can't go.”
“Why?”
“……Just can't.”
“……I see. Won't ask if it's tough.”
Ethan grumbled softly but picked up a piece of laundry and started folding it awkwardly instead.
Not far away—just in a completely different time.
To be precise, it was natural that Adelaide at this point didn't know me.
We sat side by side at the well once. As he drew water, he spoke up.
“You've changed a lot lately, huh?”
“……Yeah?”
“You used to like being alone. Never came out.”
“……Was like that.”
“Now you come out all the time. The hill, the bakery.”
“If I stay still, weird thoughts come.”
“Weird thoughts?”
“……Nothing.”
“There you go again.”
I'd decided not to run from the guilt. Whether this life here was punishment or choice.
I went to the market. Ethan picked out fruits from a stall and handed them to me.
“Ever tried this?”
“……Probably.”
“Probably? Don't remember?”
“Nope.”
“Try it. You'll like it.”
I knew, but just—probably. My tastes ran more to Carmine than apples.
We passed the general store. Raoul was sorting goods inside. What I'd thought was a sleazy grin was just the expression of someone with small eyes. As I walked by, he squinted and raised a hand.
“Oh, Ailin. Been a while.”
“……Hello.”
“Need anything, just say. Credit's fine.”
“……I'm good.”
“Come anytime anyway.”
“I will.”
Smiling back still felt awkward. But I was moving forward, one step at a time.
Every night in bed, I'd think of Adelaide. Back then, I'd slept on the floor.
With a change in mindset, things felt a little easier—that was my impression. In the past, I'd have tossed and turned, calculating the most efficient ways to kill NPCs. Now, only one face filled my mind.
I pulled the blanket over my shoulders. Even counting sheep in my head didn't bring sleep. Then I touched my hair beneath the covers. Silver strands slipped between my fingers.
It's okay. It's okay, I repeated to myself, but I couldn't bear it. I didn't cry. I didn't have the right.
“……I miss you.”
Everything restored brought joy, but mingled with loss, it all blurred together. Sleep took time. Even then, dreams of Adelaide woke me quickly.
But I was grateful. At least there, I could see her.