While Roddur stood before the largest and most decrepit house of the village, at that very moment, Ken lay inside a small wooden room on the other side of Eldenridge.
His body was wrapped in white bandages, thick medicine smeared over every wound. The bed beneath him was simple—stuffed with straw and cotton, laid directly over the earthen floor.
The room was silent, as though time itself had paused. Light slipped in through cracks in the wooden walls, and golden beams of sunlight filtered through an old European-style window, gently falling upon Ken's face.
His unconscious body twitched as his finger moved ever so slightly. Then, slowly, his eyes fluttered open.
At first, everything appeared blurred, shrouded in a haze of half-light and shadow. A dull ache pulsed in his head, as if his mind was struggling to recall something hidden beneath a fog. He slowly turned his head to look around.
And there, by his side, sat a girl. Her clothes were old, torn, and dirt-stained, yet her long, loose hair framed her face, her eyes stretched sharp and deep, and her features carried a strange calm. Her body was thin, frail even, but her beauty glimmered faintly—like a fragile light in a village drowned in darkness.
When she noticed Ken was awake, she leaned slightly closer.
Her voice was soft, carrying a quiet relief. "It's good to see you're awake. Are you feeling alright?"
Ken remained silent for a moment. His throat was dry, words refusing to form.
At last, he whispered, "Where… is this place?"
"Eldenridge," she replied firmly, though her tone carried exhaustion. Then she added, "When they brought you here yesterday, you were in terrible condition, covered in wounds."
Ken closed his eyes, trying to remember. But a sharp pain rose in his head, and only fragments came back—shadows of men dragging him, chains clinking, his body broken. Among those fractured images, one face appeared again and again—Roddur.
His breathing grew heavier, body trembling under the strain of memory. The girl quickly leaned forward, her thin hand gently pressing against his forehead as if to calm him.
Her voice was soothing, "Please… stay calm. You'll be alright."
But Ken's mind refused to stop. He struggled to piece everything together. The girl fetched a wooden cup of water and held it carefully to his lips. Cool water slid down his throat, and the fire in his head slowly eased.
Gradually, the fragments aligned. He remembered meeting a boy named Roddur in the forest.
Walking together along the roadside. And then—ambush. A swarm of bandits. Shackles. Pain. The moment they were both dragged away into captivity.
As the memory snapped back, Ken's eyes widened, and his breath caught in his throat. He realized escape would not be simple.
Ken lay still for a while, eyes closed. Though the pain in his body had dulled, the restlessness inside his chest only grew heavier.
The silence around him was broken only by the faint creak of the wooden door and the muffled voices of guards outside. And in that silence, he realized—if he did nothing now, he might never see Roddur again.
Slowly, he pushed himself up from the bed. The straw beneath him crackled. His body trembled, the dried blood on his bandages pulling at his skin. Sweat beaded on his forehead, the world swaying before his eyes.
"What are you doing?"—a voice broke out from his side, filled with alarm and concern. The girl quickly reached forward, trying to steady him. "You're not healed yet. You can't stand it!"
Ken ignored her pleas. Gritting his teeth, he tried to rise, whispering, "I can't stay here… I have to go. Roddur… I must save him."
The girl leaned closer, her voice pleading. "Stop! If you go outside now, they'll catch you again. They won't spare you this time. Please… wait for the right moment."
But Ken's eyes burned with unyielding determination. He pushed himself off the bed, only to stumble. His body lurched forward, about to fall—when the girl caught him in her arms, holding him from crashing to the ground.
"I warned you!" her voice trembled with both anger and fear. "You're not healed yet. Why are you destroying yourself like this?"
Ken's breath came heavy, but his voice was cold and firm. "I can't listen to anyone. If I fail to save Roddur, then lying here is no different than death."
The girl fell silent. Her eyes flickered with helplessness. She glanced at the door, where the shadow of the guards shifted restlessly. Escape seemed impossible.
Ken, too, stared at the door for a long moment. Then, with quiet humility in his voice, he turned to her. "Will you help me? I can't do this alone."
She froze.
Her eyes widened with shock, then clouded with hesitation—fear, pain, and something unspoken hiding in her gaze. At last, in a whisper so faint it barely reached him, she said, "I'm a prisoner too… I have no strength, no freedom. I want to help you… but how can I?"
A heavy silence fell over the room. From outside came the sound of footsteps, then fading quiet again.
In that silence, two souls stood together—bound by fate, both trapped, yet unknowingly leaning toward the same uncertain path.
Ken quickly realized that the girl could not help him in any way, so he had to take everything upon himself. He stood up at once and carefully examined every corner of the room.
Only one thought spun relentlessly in his mind—was there any way to send out a signal? Meanwhile, the girl sat helplessly on the floor, as if she had surrendered entirely to her fate.
Standing near the door, Ken caught the sound of a guard. He paused, thinking fast about how to escape this trap.
After a moment, he turned to the girl and asked, "Well, what is your name?"
In a faint voice, she replied, "Lirisa."
Calmly, Ken said, "Lirisa, shout loudly right now."
Lirisa stared at him in confusion. She could not understand why he wanted her to scream. By then, Ken had already taken his position beside the door, ready to strike.
Reluctantly, Lirisa let out a cry. At once, a guard outside swung the door open and rushed in with a weapon in hand. He saw Lirisa lying on the floor and froze in confusion.
His eyes flicked toward the bed, but Ken was nowhere to be seen. Before the guard could make sense of the situation, Ken slipped behind him, clamped down on his throat and neck, and in seconds, the man collapsed unconscious to the ground.
Ken slowly checked the room and the hallway beyond, making sure no one else was nearby. Then he extended his hand toward Lirisa, urging her to escape.
But she hesitated. Her spirit was shattered, for her family no longer lived. Even if she fled, where could she possibly go, and to whom?
She kept her head bowed, trapped in despair. When she finally looked up, she saw Ken's hand reaching toward her. Yet still, she lacked the courage to run.
Realizing that time was slipping away, Ken wasted no more moments. He seized her hand firmly and pulled her out of the room.
Quietly, step by step, Ken moved through the shadows, avoiding danger as he began his search for Roddur. All the while, he kept a strong grip on Lirisa's hand, as if he would never let her fall behind again.
Ken and Lirisa moved cautiously through the shadows until they reached a massive House. From a distance, Ken saw Roddur entering inside along with several men.
His heart clenched, then steadied—Roddur was still alive. No matter what, he had to rescue him. With that thought, Ken's mind began working on a plan.
The House was enormous, so the two slipped quietly to the back and positioned themselves near a small window, trying to catch a glimpse of what was happening inside.