The World of This Fantasy Novel is in Crisis – Chapter 44

Satin was deep in thought when Cain suddenly muttered,

“Suspicious.”

“W-What is?”

“You’re pretending you don’t remember, aren’t you?”

“Why the hell would I do that?”

“How would I know? You act like you’re all open and honest, but when it really counts, you clam up.”

Even if he said that, Satin couldn’t understand. He could only vaguely guess that something must have happened in the past.

When Satin didn’t respond and just gave an awkward smile, Cain clicked his tongue. Satin subtly turned his head away, and Cain also looked in a different direction. In the meantime, Edward and Rita had gone quite a bit ahead.

“You really do seem like you can’t remember.”

“It’s not that I seem like it, I really don’t.”

“How am I supposed to believe that?”

He spoke bluntly, but Satin felt that Cain was being strangely kind toward him. Every time Cain shortened the distance between them and Satin involuntarily recoiled, Cain would frown—but still back off. It meant he was carefully watching Satin’s reactions.

After a few more steps, Cain asked,

“How much do you remember?”

“…Wouldn’t it be more accurate to ask where it starts?”

“Fair enough. So, where does it start for you?”

Keeping his eyes fixed on the torchlight visible from Cloverland’s west gate far off in the distance, Satin slowly chose his words.

“I came to my senses in complete darkness.”

Maybe because it was just as dark now, the memory came back easily. The pitch-black space had no clear front or back, no way to tell direction. Even when he reached out his hand, he couldn’t feel anything.

“I wandered around, fumbling with my hands, and then I tripped over something at my feet. It felt like a person. I quickly checked, and thank God, they were alive.”

As he spoke, he realized it sounded like the beginning of a different genre. Waking up in a strange place. Surrounded by unconscious strangers. And when they woke up, a mysterious entity or message window would appear and start some kind of game.

‘It always ended in total domination…’

There had been so many entertaining ones. It was a bit of a shame he couldn’t read them anymore. Not too much, though. He’d gotten used to a peaceful life without web novels or webtoons.

Shaking off those thoughts, Satin continued.

“It was an old man, but he was unconscious.”

“…Old man?”

Cain’s voice turned grim.

‘This part matches the original.’

That old man was probably a Black Magician—someone Cain utterly despised. Satin had wondered if the relationship between Cain and the Black Magician might have changed, given that Cain was now doing what Satin was originally supposed to do. But it didn’t seem that way.

Then, was the only thing that changed their relationship? And just that alone had caused everything to play out so differently?

As Satin thought about the butterfly effect, Cain suddenly asked,

“So? Did you kill him?”

“What?”

“Just kidding. What happened after that?”

It was a remarkably unfunny joke. In Dark Age, Cain had a mild personality—not particularly funny or cheerful, but not a killjoy either. Meeting him in person, though, he felt different. Like he didn’t even understand what a joke was.

“Hm?”

At that completely un-cute prodding, Satin replied with a sour face.

“Well, I tried to carry him and find a way out…”

A sudden chill ran down his spine, making Satin pause and shiver. The night air was much colder than during the day. Around this time last year, he’d caught a mild cold, too.

“You carried that crazy, old bastard and tried to find a way out?”

“Mhm. I think I walked for over a day. Couldn’t see a thing, stomach was growling… I thought I was gonna die.”

“Must’ve been rough.”

“Seriously. I really wanted to just ditch him.”

“Did you not leave him behind?”

Cain’s voice turned eerie once again.

Did he want to hear Satin say he’d killed or abandoned the Black Magician? If so, well—too bad.

Satin scratched his cheek awkwardly.

“Of course I didn’t. It’s even scarier to be alone in the dark.”

That wasn’t actually true. Satin wasn’t afraid of the dark, or of being alone. If the person beside him back then had been a burly man instead of an old man, he probably would’ve left him behind.

‘If I said it was just because he was elderly and frail, Cain would flip.’

Satin had chosen his words carefully, hoping not to provoke Cain.

But just as he finished speaking, a crunching noise echoed nearby. Satin glanced around, confused, but it was too dark to make anything out.

“Didn’t you hear that just now?”

“Nope.”

“Maybe I imagined it…”

“So, what happened after that?”

***

By the time they passed through Cloverland’s west gate, it was nearly dawn. Everyone was exhausted, so they checked into the nearest inn. Even with Cain trailing behind them, no one found it strange. Cain, for his part, remained silent.

Rita rented three rooms: one for herself, one for Edward, and one for Satin and Cain to share. Despite no one requesting it, Satin ended up rooming with Cain. Cain didn’t say a word.

When Satin tilted his head curiously as he received the key, Rita didn’t even lower her voice to offer a warning.

“Keep a close watch. Who knows what he might try next.”

It was clearly meant for Cain to hear. He only snorted in response.

Once they were inside the two-person room, Satin acted like he’d already forgotten Rita’s warning. He nonchalantly washed up, then changed clothes right in front of Cain. Cain didn’t like that one bit.

‘Did he get that scrawny from all the hardship?’

Unaware of Cain’s thoughts, Satin flashed a foolish grin and gave a casual goodnight.

“Mm, sleep tight.”

Then he burrowed into bed and fell asleep almost instantly.

Cain only went to wash up after confirming Satin was sound asleep, breathing softly. After washing, he checked again to make sure Satin hadn’t stirred, then began preparing to sleep himself.

‘This is fucking absurd.’

The entire story he’d heard on the way there—no matter how many times he turned it over in his head, it made no sense.

Cain had never really believed in gods. For the past four years, he’d even gone out of his way not to. If a god truly existed, there was no way those hypocritical clerics and Temple Knights would’ve been left unchecked.

And now, even the last flicker of belief was gone.

‘There’s no god. No way in hell.’

Otherwise, there was no explanation for how Satin could’ve lived with that lunatic old man all this time. Listening to how Satin had survived, memoryless, alongside that deranged bastard—it made Cain feel like he’d been thrown into the gutter.

The memory loss had probably been the old man’s doing. Satin had lost his memory once before. It must’ve been another one of the bastard’s schemes gone wrong. Who knows why he ended up brain-dead, though.

‘Not divine punishment. There’s no god, so no divine punishment.’

And yet the man had become an idiot, spent the rest of his life being cared for by Satin, and then died. Not exactly a fitting end for a villain. He should’ve died in agony, repaid for every single crime he committed.

‘Then again, dying powerless might suit him in its own way.’

He probably never imagined there’d come a day when he couldn’t even shit on his own. He got praised for things he created by exploiting others’ lives, strutted around acting superior to those weaker than him…

Cain almost laughed—then felt rage bubbling up again.

‘He should’ve died alone in that state.’

To think he dragged Satin into that mess until his last breath. Just how fucked up was this goddamn connection between them?

Unable to contain his fury, Cain shot up from the bed. The inn, hastily chosen, wasn’t well-furnished. The bed creaked loudly with the sudden movement.

Afraid the noise might’ve woken Satin, Cain quickly checked. Thankfully, Satin was still fast asleep. He let out a sigh of relief—only for his stomach to twist with nausea.

‘He’s alive.’

For a long time, Cain lived with doubts. He told himself Satin couldn’t be dead, clinging to the lie. He couldn’t count how many times he visited the ruins of the old school. Even though the Bureau of Order had already scoured it clean, he still went, hoping against hope.

That was when he ran into Rogers.

Cain thought Rogers had come for the same reason—to search for Satin. But no. Rogers said he was there to mourn. He even asked Cain if that was why he had come. Cain couldn’t answer.

Looking at Rogers’ face, filled with guilt and sorrow, Cain was forced to confront the pathetic figure he’d become.

He never went back after that.

‘Stupid flying squirrel bastard. Mourning, my ass. He’s alive and kicking, right here.’

Cain scoffed at Rogers, who he hadn’t seen in over three years. Rogers wasn’t a bad guy—he was probably still living with that lingering guilt. But Cain had no intention of letting him see Satin. Let him rot in remorse.

That thought sparked a sudden doubt.

‘Is he really alive?’

He wasn’t sure if any of this was real. Cain stumbled out of bed and approached Satin’s.

Cain had always had sharp night vision. He could clearly see the closed eyelids, the slightly parted lips, the gentle rise and fall of Satin’s chest.

‘He’s alive, right?’

Cain reached out—but stopped short of touching him. His hand hovered, pulling back just before making contact, over and over again.

‘He’s alive.’

He whispered a tiny spell under his breath, inaudible to anyone else. Instantly, a swirl of magic shimmered into view. A gift from the old man—one Cain never wanted but couldn’t get rid of. He’d grown used to it now.

The magic responded to Cain’s will, moving smoothly. It traced the contours of the blanket, then brushed against the nape of Satin’s neck. It grazed the cheek he hadn’t touched earlier, drifted across his eyelids, and flowed down to his earlobe.

Finally, Cain touched Satin’s cheek.

Warmth met his fingertips.

He was real.

Author: Levia