Chapter 18 – Ember of Tears
A soft rustle stirred the silence.
The woman's fingers twitched, her body shivered, and her lips parted in a dry gasp as her consciousness clawed its way back into the waking world. Ethan moved closer—but not too close. He knelt a short distance away, letting the gentle breeze carry his voice.
"You're awake..." His tone was low, almost like a whisper laced with fragile warmth. "How are you feeling? Does anything hurt?"
Her dull eyes blinked open, unfocused, until they found him.
There was no scream, no panic—just the slow, suffocating realization of where she was... and what she'd survived.
Her gaze drifted past Ethan.
To the mound of goblin corpses.
Then the dam broke.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, ragged sobs tearing from her throat. She curled in on herself, shaking uncontrollably.
Ethan didn't move.
(Monologue)
That's better… Crying means there's something left.
Hope doesn't come from silence.
Silence is what's left after all meaning is stripped away.
He simply watched over her like a silent guardian, giving her space. Letting her grief bleed out without shame.
When her sobs slowed into faint hiccups, Ethan finally took a step closer and lowered himself to her level.
"I know nothing I say can erase what happened," he said gently, his voice like a balm against cracked skin. "But… you're safe now. And safety is where healing begins. You don't have to carry this alone—not anymore."
She wiped her eyes, still trembling.
"Don't worry," she said hoarsely. "I won't ask for a mercy death or any of that nonsense…"
Her lips quivered. "I have a child waiting for me back home. I—I can't afford to break. My husband… he's already gone."
Ethan lowered his gaze, fists clenched against the earth.
She turned her head toward the slaughtered goblins, their twisted, lifeless forms sprawled across the clearing like rotting filth.
"…What about them?" she asked, her voice fragile.
"They died screaming," Ethan said coldly. "I made sure they felt every ounce of what they did to you—and worse."
More tears spilled, but this time, she didn't face away.
Ethan leaned in—not forcefully, but gently, a soft movement that invited comfort without pressure. He let her cry into his shoulder, holding still as her pain poured out once more.
She clutched at him like a drowning soul finally reaching land.
After a long silence, she spoke again.
"They came out of nowhere," she whispered. "I was just fetching water from the stream… then everything went dark. I—I think it's been three days…"
Ethan's jaw tensed.
"Three days in that den of filth…"
"…Some adventurers saw me," she added, her voice shaking again. "I saw them through the cracks. They—ran. They saw me, and they ran…"
Rage surged up in Ethan's chest like a geyser of molten fury.
"Fucking cowards…" he muttered through clenched teeth. "Spineless assholes…"
But he didn't let her go.
He just held her tighter.
Ethan opened his inventory interface with a flick of thought.
The screen flickered to life before his eyes.
[Item Purchased – Worn-out Tunic (Common)] – 20 SP deducted.
It wasn't much—thin fabric, faded stitches, half a size too loose—but it was better than nothing. He handed it to her with quiet resolve.
"Here. It's not clean, but it'll cover you," he said, placing the tunic near her side. "Take this too." He took out the black trousers he'd bought just yesterday and offered them without hesitation. "They're spare now."
She looked at him, stunned. But there was no awkwardness in his expression—no embarrassment. Just urgency.
"We need to move," he added, standing up and scanning the treeline. "I didn't bring any food, and I don't trust the smell of blood not to draw scavengers. We'll head to the village."
He moved toward the cave entrance and began salvaging what little he could: a few cracked potion vials, a torn map soaked in something that smelled like blood and bile, and a rusted dagger.
Nothing of real value.
But Ethan still packed it all into his rucksack. Even trash could serve a purpose later.
With the woman now fully clothed beneath his long cloak, they left the clearing. Her steps were wobbly but determined, and she didn't complain. Not once. Just walked, head low, shadowed beneath the hood.
The journey back to the village was mercifully uneventful.
Dust clung to their boots as they crossed the dirt trail leading through the wooden gates. The air felt heavier in the presence of others—eyes watching, whispers stirring—but no one approached.
Ethan led her straight to a food stall.
"Two bowls," he said, placing his remaining silver and copper coins on the counter. "Bread and hot broth."
The vendor didn't ask questions. Probably saw worse in his time.
Ethan carried the tray himself, placing it before her gently.
"Eat. You need it more than I do."
She hesitated… then took the bowl in both hands. Her eyes welled up again, but this time she smiled—just faintly—as she tore into the bread with trembling fingers.
He waited. Then stood.
"Let's go."
She looked up. He gestured toward the building ahead—the Guild. Heavy oak doors, a swinging sign creaking in the wind, and the scent of steel and sweat wafting from within.
"Why the Guild?" she asked, her voice hoarse.
"They log incident reports. And some people there… need to hear what I have to say."
He didn't add more. Just walked, and she followed—hidden under his cloak, her face veiled, but her steps growing steadier with every stride.
The Guild Hall was bustling as always—rows of adventurers bragging, haggling, sharpening blades, and nursing bruises. But the moment Ethan stepped through the door with a cloaked figure in tow, a few heads turned. Some with curiosity. Others with quiet recognition.
He moved toward the main counter without pause.
The female receptionist looked up with her usual half-bored expression… until her eyes fell on the cloaked woman behind him.
There was a pause.
Her lips parted slightly.
And then—
"…Wait. Didn't you take a goblin extermination mission just in the morning?" she asked, stepping around the counter. Her gaze shifted between Ethan and the woman. "And this woman… is she—?"
Ethan gave a single nod. Solemn. No words needed.
The receptionist's face fell, and she stepped forward with new urgency.
"This way," she said, gently guiding the woman through a door behind the counter. "We'll file the full event record and contact the local authorities. She'll be taken care of."
Ethan didn't follow.
He turned and moved to the adjacent reception desk, where a younger male staffer waited. A bit green behind the ears, but professional.
"Mission completion," Ethan said, reaching into his pouch.
He dropped a small bag onto the counter—soft thuds of goblin ears confirming the count.
The receptionist flinched, then forced a smile.
"Sixteen… uhm… noted." He opened the record book and tallied quickly. "Let's see: Goblin extermination, threat level low. Bonus for confirmed nest clear-out, plus recovery of mana crystals…"
He scribbled fast, calculating aloud.
"…That brings your total to two silver and twenty bronze coins. I'll just mark the reward now."
Ethan pocketed the coins without a word. His eyes scanned the hall again.
And then he saw him.
Brad.
The older adventurer stood a few paces away, his back half-turned, voice low as he discussed something serious with a few other seasoned fighters. His brows were furrowed, jaw tight.
Ethan recognized that expression. The same one Brad had worn back when he'd first warned him:
"The world's bigger than you, kid."
Whatever Brad was talking about—it wasn't just another casual hunt.
Ethan slid the pouch of leftover bronze into his coat, adjusted his sword strap, and walked over.
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A/N:
Big thanks to 'nghtwlkr' who voted with 3 power stones! Every single vote helps the novel grow.