One Regret Is Enough

'My grandmother died because of me.'

I swung my dagger at the man attacking me. The man's body stiffened as if surprised by my sudden defiance, and I took advantage of the moment to strike him in the arm.

'You can't damage the village!'

Blood gushed out as he screamed. With my weak strength, I was unable to cut the man's arm off, but I was able to leave a deep gash. The man dropped his sword and staggered back.

"This freaking thing... How dare you..."

Words spilled out of the man's mouth, tinged with anger. Listening to the man look down at me, I sheathed my sword. He was no bigger than a dragon.

"Don't talk, come at me."

I shook my head as the man bared his teeth at me. Somehow, I had to end things; only that thought filled my head.

"Cornelia!"

My surroundings suddenly brightened. I could see dozens of torches coming toward us. My eyes widened as I recognized the woman standing in front of me.

"...Aunt Marge?"

The villagers were running toward us with their weapons drawn. In fact, except for a few guards, the weapons were pickaxes, pitchforks, and kitchen knives.

"You, you bastard! How dare you attack our Cornelia?!" Uncle Bill shouted, swinging his pickaxe at the man who had attacked me.

The knights of Astorf and the unnamed men shrank back, as though shocked by the unexpected surge of people. However, they soon clashed swords again.

"Cornelia."

"How did you all end up here…"

In the midst of the tangle of villagers, knights, and men in black, auntie Marge grabbed me. The torch she held was shining brightly.

"I thought you were coming too late," she said, "but something didn't seem right, so I've gathered everyone."

After she said that, she looked at me with a stern face.

"Go. Now would be a good time."

"But…"

"We don't want to see you go back up to the capital and suffer, but they won't let you go so easily either." Marge frowned at the tangled knights. "Aren't those knights your watchdogs, too? They didn't want to fall off earlier, and that's just as well. Now is good because you're good at geography and finding your way around."

Having said that, she pushed me into the shadow of the forest. Then she shouted loudly.

"Go now!"

The sight of villagers fighting behind me was etched in my eyes. There was no way the villagers could overcome these people, who were good at killing people.

Yes, it would be better to go, because then those men would come after me. However, my feet didn't move.

"Cornelia, we're really okay; you know, we're all a bunch of very skilled people. We can handle it." Marge smiled reassuringly at me. Determined, I gripped the bloodied sword in a crushing grip.

"...I'm going."

As soon as she nodded, I turned and ran straight into the woods. The sounds of fire, screams, and the clash of swords grew more distant.

'Where should I go?' In a dangerous and dark forest with no path, I lifted my head and looked up at the night sky, wondering where I should go to get to where I wanted to be. As if answering me, the stars twinkled and slowly began to move. A cluster of stars parted the night sky like a guiding light. The wind began to blow to one side, and as I looked that way, a path began to glow. Without hesitation, I took a step. As I found my way, the cluster of stars slowly began to disperse.

"...I think that's the way to go."

It was the same situation as when I helped the warriors without knowing anything. Tears started to come out. I couldn't erase the look on everyone's face as they looked at me as I carefully pointed the way. 

I was the guide. A guide that didn't appear in the original story. Someone who could take anyone, anywhere, wherever they wanted to go. One with powers that in this time and age should have been possessed only by Feriel. That's why I felt guilty. 

If the original story had gone the way it was supposed to, the warriors would have encountered Aktail earlier. The day when the spell that bound Aktail would be broken approached, but the warriors continued to return to the town, unable to leave the Granden Forest. The more the warriors returned to the village, the more anxious they and I became. No matter how much I thought about it, there was no reason for the original story to twist except for my existence. I had already read the future, and my powers were strong enough to surpass those of Feriel, one of the main characters. 

Thus, I gave them directions and guiltily followed them.

'It wasn't just guilt.'

My grandmother was sick, and we were too poor to pay for all the medicine. So I became greedy at the warriors' offers. If I went to the capital, I could get help from the priests, and I could buy the needed medicine cheaper. I just didn't want my grandmother—my only family—to get sick. 

I got greedier. Furthermore, I wanted my grandmother, who was always curious about the capital, to see the capital and eat delicious food. And I wanted to learn. I had learned how to write and read and do simple math, but I wanted to know more. I wanted to go to an academy and study.  

'I wanted to be a little happier.' 

Was it a sin? Tears blurred my vision. The hem of my skirt snagged on a branch and ripped, and my ankle twisted as I moved. But I didn't stop walking. The wind blew in one direction, and the light led me.

Following the light, I ran like a madman. Where the wind stops, where the stars point, only then would I reach the place I wanted. Just as Aktail's lair came out during our adventure. 

After running like that for a while, I stopped. Something was wrong, and I looked back to see smoke rising from the direction I had come. It was toward the village. The village I'd been living in had been engulfed in flames.

"I found her!" 

At the same time, an arrow flew by and struck me right at my feet. As I fled into the woods, arrows began to fly at my back.

"Don't miss her!"

Arrows flew into the tree I had just been in or struck the ground. Some of them grazed me, wounding me. One by one, wounds grew on my arms and legs. The darkness of the forest was frighteningly thick, and there was no way to stop the arrows from flying through it.

'What should I do?'

When they were using swords, I could deal with them a bit, but how do I deal with bowmen?

Lucen, did Lucen ever teach me anything? How did Debron and Leonif move in this situation? Feriel…

'Scroll!'

My mind raced as I tried to figure out what to do until I reached for the scroll in my pocket. Two attack spells and one motion scroll. I hastily pulled out one of the scrolls Feriel had given me and tore it in half. As soon as the scroll was completely torn apart, a bright light erupted, creating five ice spears around me.

"Argh!"

One of the spears that flew toward the enemies apparently pierced one of them with precision. With a scream, the sound of footsteps in the darkness diminished. An arrow flew by and struck my side. The cut hair scattered. 

As I pulled out another scroll and strained my hand to tear it, my body jerked violently from my injured ankle.

". . .!"

Suddenly, my body floated in thin air. My vision of the forest tilted and was filled with the moonlight and the night sky. And quickly, I fell downward.

It was a cliff.

*      *      *

*Puck—!*

Lucen fell from the chair, unable to let out a single scream. The man who had been chatting looked at Debron in surprise. His hair was disheveled as if he'd just rushed in, and his blue eyes were fixed on Lucen as he rolled on the floor. 

Eyes filled with anger; no good could come of speaking to someone with eyes like that. The man glared, then stalked out of the room cautiously.

"This... crazy... Aah!" A scream filled the room before Lucen could finish his sentence.

The next instant, Debron slammed into him again, and this time he couldn't get up. He collapsed to the floor, pitifully. But Debron didn't stop there. He kicked him as he fell, and his sprawled body curled up into a ball and grunted.

"You son of a b*tch! No matter how much of a duke you are! You think you can fight our family?!"

Lucen's words were true. Even if Debron were the Duke, he couldn't ignore the Clayal household. The Clayal Marquisate was a high-ranking noble family with a long history of producing warriors from generation to generation, and Lucen was now the heir apparent. If the current situation were known, Marquis Clayal might ask for a duel with Debron at any moment.

However, the words that reached Lucen—who waited for an apology—were completely different.

"I'm waiting, Lucen Clayal."

Rolling on the floor, Lucen gulped and held his breath at the sight of Debron. He knew instinctively. He was being serious.

"If it comes to that."

Debron was silent after that, but it was easy to tell what he meant next. Another puck! echoing through the room, Lucen was sobbing and yelling for him to stop.

"Wh- what the hell are you doing…?! Debron…!"

"What am I doing?" He asked, gritting his teeth. Lucen lowered his gaze to the floor. He'd known Debron since he was a child, but he'd never seen him so angry.

'Why the hell?'

Tears of pain and frustration welled up in his eyes. He wanted to know what he had done so wrong to deserve this.

But he bit his lips, knowing that if he opened his mouth, he would be mercilessly punched in the face or kicked in the stomach, as he had been earlier.