The Abduction Called Reunion
The archer could not control her own feet the moment she saw the rising smoke. He was there. It had to be him. It could only be him. His sword. His trace. And fire was blooming in that place. She wanted, right this instant, to see him breathing once more. But when the hero’s rigid hand seized her shoulder, her own fingers unconsciously drifted toward the quiver strapped to the outside of her thigh.
The hero spoke in a voice thick with restraint, yet she was panting harder than anyone else. Huuu, huuugh, huuu. The rough flow of air rushing in and out between the slits of her helm. And those gleaming black eyes. She, too, was on the verge of madness from wanting to see Woojin right this moment.
But something held her back. The certainty that this was wrong. The anxiety that if the three of them suddenly popped out with a ta-da, he would flee just like the traces he had left behind. That fear was what kept her arm from moving.
“...Hero, what are you going to do?”
The saintess was trembling violently from the same crushing unease. It had to be him. There was no doubt. But the torn upper garment, soaked through with blood. The ruined armor. The sword caked in monster blood and rusted over. He would not welcome the three of them. No one could deny it—the three of them were the worst possible thing for him. That village, their very existence, would look like nothing but demons to him. That much was certain.
In her anxiety, the saintess even considered simply withdrawing here. Confirm that he was safe, then pray desperately and eternally for his happiness. Perhaps that was the only way. But… she wanted to meet him. She wanted to ask him. She wanted to speak with him again. She wanted to give him ‘love’ once more.
The hero had no intention of retreating. She could not be refused. She could not back down here. He was right in front of them. On that day—the very day she had struck him out of the party with her own hand—while feeling a sliver of fear at the monsters’ cries, she had kicked him with disgust and banished him from the party. Ever since, she had searched endlessly for ways to atone. Nothing could fill the emptiness in her heart.
Perhaps… perhaps he could become her savior. Just as he had once pulled her from the pit of blood and terror, maybe he could pull her out again. She hoped so. She wanted it. She didn’t care if people called her shameless, heartless, or without conscience. If only she could have him by her side again.
The archer could think of nothing else. For his sake, she no longer cared about elven dignity or pride, or her position as the next elder who would lead the tribe. She wanted to stand beside him again, learning his cooking, listening to his stories. She no longer thought about returning to how things used to be. She simply wanted him beside her.
Each with her own desire, each with her own love, they wanted to stain him with it. Even if they were people who could never be forgiven.
That was how they felt right now.
And then, after a brief silence, the hero spoke. The ugly, filthy desire flowed from her lips.
A sharp clang rang through the quiet forest.
And he heard it.
“...What was that sound?”
It was thick fish flesh. The oil truly kept stimulating his salivary glands without end.
“...Hss.”
He kept wiping away the uncontrollable drool that spilled from his mouth. But he had to endure. He needed to make jerky. Yet the quiet crackling flames, the drool that kept sliding down again—soon that peace was shattered by a tremendous crash.
The sound of metal striking metal. It was definitely not a noise that belonged in nature. Then where, and why, had that sound come from? He could not understand.
He looked at the meat that was cooking nicely. Then he rose from his seat and, as if possessed, walked toward the source of the sound. Without knowing why it had rung out, or what it meant to him.
And soon he witnessed it through the grass. His rusted sword lay broken on the ground. Erika was gripping the hero by the collar, and Sirke was trying to mediate between the two.
An unbelievable sight lay before him.
And he stood there, dazed.
“Say that again. What the hell are you talking about?”
“I said let’s kidnap him.”
“You crazy bitch. And you call yourself a hero?”
“I’m not a hero. What kind of hero ruins one person’s entire life?”
“Then you should at least feel sorry. Kidnapping? Are you insane?”
Drawing the sword she had been carrying carefully on her back and slamming it down on the hero’s head was instantaneous. Of course, the hero’s body would not even be scratched by such a pathetic blade.
The dented helm. But the voice beneath it was endlessly serious. Despite the playful tone, her suggestion was utterly sincere. If she was going to be rejected anyway, she would throw herself at him. The madwoman who had whipped him, the woman who had felt burning ecstasy in the very act of punishing herself with that whip—what man would accept her? If he wouldn’t accept her, then she would simply stay by his side until he could. Wasn’t it simple?
In the end, he, they, everyone would be happy. Embracing one another, comforting one another, everyone would become happy. This time, all of them.
“...You’re crazy. Completely insane.”
“I’m not the only one who’s gone crazy for him, am I?”
“Shut up.”
“The eldest daughter of the elven elder has fallen for some outsider. And a powerless one without a Goddess's Blessing, no less!”
“If you flap that mouth one more time—”
“Both of you, stop…”
“Who was it that knew that fact and still desperately tried to stay by his side? Who was it that clung to him every cooking lesson under the excuse of teaching?”
“I told you to shut your mouth!!”
The moment her fist rose tightly clenched, the moment the saintess squeezed her eyes shut—
“...You. All of you.”
There was someone who snapped their mouth shut with a gasp. At that hoarse voice, every woman turned her head at once. Their gazes converged on one man.
His cheeks were hollow. He looked quite different from the Woojin they had imagined. But those features, and above all, that scar—the small scar by his right eye, the one left by an arrow. It was small and not very noticeable, yet to their eyes it stood out more clearly than anything. It told them exactly who he was.
“Uh, uhh…”
Woojin tried to turn away. With a frightened face, he no longer looked at them. He spun around and began to move his legs.
“...Catch him.”
The low voice reached him. Woojin put even more strength into his steps.
“What are you doing? I said catch him! Catch him, damn it!”
Erika threw the hero’s collar aside as if discarding it and began climbing the trees. Her supple movements were the very ones Woojin had once thought truly elegant. Now, nothing could have been more terrifying. The moment she began staring at him with both eyes like a puma in the forest, an indescribable chill raced up his spine.
Crack, crunch—sounds of breaking echoed. Clang, clang—the noise of metal armor colliding. With overwhelming force, she smashed every branch in her path, even splitting fallen dead trees in half as she closed in on him from behind.
“Huuugh!”
Woojin slipped nimbly between the trees, but—crack. The gap between the trees split apart.
“Woojin, stop right there!”
Ah, that voice. ‘What the hell, you still haven’t disappeared?’ It was the hero’s voice.
“He turned right!”
…She who watched over everything. ‘With those hideous eyes, just how far are you going to chase me?’
“The path ahead…”
When he tried to plunge deeper into the darker, thicker part of the forest, branches blocked him. Further pursuit on foot was impossible. The moment she prepared to swoop down on him from above, stretching out her arm with all her strength—
“Illuminate!”
A thunderous voice filled the forest.
“Kraaagh—!”
A blinding flash burst out right in front of him. And then the two women seized him. His frail body soon met the blue ground helplessly.
It was the moment he faced them.
They said nothing.
The hero carried him on her back and hurried onward. The night was deep, and the city was deathly silent. The city that had originally held festivals even at night now hosted an uninvited guest named melancholy. Even the city guards, caught in that mood, had drunk themselves senseless and dozed against the gate.
Peace. A nightmare that would never return. They slept like that.
Three figures scaled the wall, one of them carrying a man on her back. No one saw them.
In a shabby inn, in the dark of night, footsteps began to fill the silence. The innkeeper had already passed out drunk. A pouch of coins clinked onto the counter. A small note was left beside it, informing him that they were leaving quietly after causing trouble in the village.
“Prrrt.”
The horse did not seem to like setting out so late at night.
“There, there… It’s okay. Shhh…”
Her platinum blonde hair caught the moonlight and gave off a faint glow. Only then did the horse slowly lift its hooves.
Clop, clop. With a creak, the gate opened. In the pitch-black night when everyone had fallen into deep sleep, the carriage quietly began to leave the city.
Quietly, they smiled.
They could finally see his sleeping face—the lovely face they had only ever seen in dreams. The face of the man they had once loved, still loved. If anyone saw that gaunt, ruined face, they would shudder, but the women gazed at him with eyes filled with deep love.
The hero hummed a tune. It was the song Woojin had once hummed while driving a carriage. Today was truly a joyful day. Now all they needed was to find a sanctuary for their time together.
Cozy and leisurely, they would give him stability and fill themselves as well. Since they had all boarded the same boat, there was no turning back. This pleasant feeling was enough to revive the hero’s old memories.
“...Sleep well.”
She greeted her prince the way he had always greeted her whenever he laid his tired body down to rest.
The saintess could not hide the smile rising to her lips. He was here. Right in front of her, breathing softly in his sleep. When had she last seen him sleeping? On the other hand, those hollow cheeks worried her. How hard must it have been? How painful?
But from now on, it would be all right. If she gave him ‘love,’ he was the kind of person who would always repay it. So even if it took time… even if it meant devoting her entire life—he would one day give her an answer. That was what she believed.
The driver wore her hood pulled low. One hand held the reins, the other clutched a jewel. The pale turquoise gem that sparkled in the moonlight… when she clenched her fist, it shattered into pieces. She scattered the powder along the road.
It had once felt like a precious artifact from her father that kept him close. But the moment it felt like an obstacle to her time with him, she broke it without hesitation.
…They must not find him. Or them. She would explain someday. But not now. Even the thought of losing time with him to rules and regulations felt too wasteful.
Soon a smile formed on her lips. Tonight, the moon felt especially beautiful.
Late that night, in Armilla.
“...What did you just say?”
“The artifact I always told her to carry has vanished.”
An elf who looked like a beautiful young man with long hair trembled with anxiety, pacing restlessly.
“The Demon King is no more.”
“The signal disappeared from human lands. Something must have happened.”
For a moment, silence filled the room.
“...I will assemble a tracking party—”
Then the footsteps stopped, and both eyes flashed.
“Do it secretly. Bring only those who can keep their mouths shut.”
“As you command.”
The elder was deeply worried by the bad news that had been arriving lately. His eldest daughter, a genius archer. The one who carried the hopes of the entire race. And above all, his precious child.
Yet she had suddenly stopped sending any messages. The last note had simply said she would return soon. If something had happened to her…
Huu. Please, let nothing have happened to her.
“...You called for us.”
The door had closed again at some point. Two hooded figures shimmered faintly in the dim light.
“Go and gather news of my daughter. And whether inside our country or out, make sure no one learns of this.”
“We shall act according to the elder’s will.”
And then their presence vanished.
“Erika… where are you…”
The beautifully shining moon felt only cruel tonight.