The journey continued under a heavy silence that hung over the girls. Especially over Cecília, the sister of one of the dead.
Her eyes were red and swollen from so much crying. She couldn't even give her sister's body a proper burial; the best she could do was join the other girls in digging shallow graves for the three dead.
A simple and quick burial.
Leonard didn't allow much delay—he was eager to leave the place. To the other girls, he seemed cruel and heartless.
Especially to Cecília, who watched the care he showed while carrying Thalira. Who, in her opinion—and in that of almost all the girls in the group—was nothing but dead weight.
'How can he be such a hypocrite?'
She thought, watching Thalira's body wrapped in thick cloths, lying on the ground.
'How is she any different from a corpse?! Is it just because she's prettier?'
She chewed the nutrient bread noisily while grumbling in her thoughts.
Leonard was always like that. Whenever a prettier or more unique woman appeared, he would discard the previous ones—yet still kept them around, like trophies.
Cecília remembered when she first met Leonard. He had been just a young adventurer dreaming of greatness. He had his loyal companions: an aspiring knight named Kyle and a gentle, dreamy girl named Aveline.
She had been drawn to Leonard from the very first moment. It was impossible not to fall for him—he was every lovestruck teenager's dream. Strong, handsome, and charismatic.
He showed her things she had never imagined—a whole new world. She chose to follow him willingly, hoping to see more of that world Leonard had promised.
But in the process, she broke promises of her own...
She still remembered it as if it were yesterday—the promise she made to that black-haired boy from her hometown.
To marry and live a happy life together.
'I don't want to think about it.'
Cecília shook her head, trying to clear her mind. But the tightness in her chest remained. She could feel it on her skin—the feeling of being disposable, just another toy in someone else's hands.
'I guess that's how he must have felt back then...'
Even if it was a childish promise, the boy's desperate expression had hurt her in some way. But Leonard made her forget everything—being with him had felt so good.
She had felt like the center of the universe.
But...
As new girls appeared, the attention she received slowly faded, until she became just another girl in the hero's group.
She stopped her thoughts. But it was too late—regret already weighed heavily on her chest. The peaceful life she'd given up, the love she'd lost—all of it haunted her mind.
'Why did I fall in love with this man?!'
She thought while watching Leonard carefully tend to Thalira's wounds.
'He doesn't even look at me anymore... Does he still remember the promise he made? To take me to see the sea?'
Part of her wanted to believe he did—that even if he ignored her, he hadn't forgotten. But her other side, the more realistic one, said otherwise:
'He doesn't care about your sister's death... Why would he care about you?'
The question was whispered by a demonic voice.
Cecília wanted to deny it—but she didn't have the strength to speak.
Leonard didn't care about her anymore.
She knew it. She had already accepted it.
'Look at how he cares for Thalira. He doesn't think about you—or your sister, who's now rotting in a shallow grave.'
The voice kept whispering cruel words into Cecília's mind, not even allowing her to think clearly.
'If you hadn't followed Leonard, your sister would still be alive. And instead of sleeping on the cold ground, facing this merciless chill, you'd both be lying in soft beds, enjoying the warmth of a cozy home.'
'It hurts, doesn't it?'
'To feel the consequences of your choices on your own skin.'
Every word was like a nail driven into her heart. They were just words—but they cut deeper than blades.
Cecília realized that no matter how much she blamed Leonard, the real blame lay with her. None of this would have happened if she hadn't been naive enough to believe his words—and worse, dragged her sister into this misery.
'Don't blame yourself so much. It's Leonard's fault.'
'He deceived you, made a fool out of you.'
'He deserves to be punished—for everything he's done. For all the lives he's ruined!'
Each syllable pierced deeply into Cecília's heart. A hand extended toward her, promising to end her pain—even if it was only an illusion.
Cecília grasped that hand without hesitation.
"That's right. It's Leonard's fault!"
The demonic voice went silent, as if satisfied with the result.
Cecília's gaze toward Leonard—once filled with pain and longing—now held a newly discovered hatred. But somehow, it was as deep as the ocean.
Calista, who was scanning the surroundings, noticed the sudden shift in Cecília's emotions. She stayed silent, then smiled, returning to her sweet bread filled with orange cream.
"Tasty, tasty."
She praised it, and her pink tongue slid across her red lips before licking the orange cream from her slender fingers. A simple gesture—but one that could make anyone aroused.
Unfortunately, Leonard was too busy to witness such a divine sight.
After a short rest, the group packed their belongings and began moving again.
After several hours of travel—
"How can this be?!"
Leonard muttered as he examined the map. Its contents were completely different from what he was seeing. According to it, after crossing the mountains, they should already be seeing daylight—meaning they were near the edge of the Demon Realm.
But all that stretched before them was a vast, dark desert—completely barren, without a single tree or demonic beast in sight.
A new kind of terror gripped Leonard's heart—the fear of being lost and trapped forever within the Demon Realm.
"Is the map wrong?"
"No." Aurelia frowned as she looked at the map. "This is what I feared..."
"What did you fear?! Speak already!"
Leonard shouted, impatient.
"The Demon Realm is changing... this map is deceiving us..." She paused, afraid to say the next words.
"I'm afraid that instead of leaving... we've gone even deeper into it."
Aurelia's revelation hung heavy in the dark desert air—they were more lost and deeper within the Demon Realm than they had imagined.
Leonard's face turned pale. The panic he had tried to suppress since the previous night now threatened to swallow him whole. His eyes scanned the empty horizon, desperately seeking any sign that might prove Aurelia wrong.
"No! You're wrong!" Leonard's voice was sharp and loud, laced with hysteria. "The map is clear—we have to keep going! If we stay here, we'll die!"
Aurelia met his outburst with a cold stare, her growing authority surpassing his title as Hero. "And what good is it to wander blindly in total darkness, exhausted and lost, Leonard? That would be an even quicker, more pointless death."
She didn't need to say aloud that she saw his fear—the panic that was driving him to make reckless choices. Her logic was irrefutable, and everyone silently agreed.
"We'll rest. Even if we're deeper inside the realm, we need our strength." Her voice allowed no argument. "Cecília, go fetch the cloths. Calista, tend to the wounds."
Leonard clenched his fists, a vein bulging on his temple, but he was forced to step back. His image as a leader was in ruins, and he couldn't afford to fight with the only sensible person left.
'I'll make you pay for this, Aurelia... and for siding with those bitches,' he thought, turning his attention back to Thalira—who was already out of danger, yet he still treated her with such special care.
Cecília moved under Aurelia's orders. Her steps were heavy and silent. Her heart felt cold, her eyes barely registering her surroundings. She took the cloths from Aurelia's magic pouch, but her hands trembled—not from the cold, but from the intensity of the newfound hatred filling the void in her chest.
She looked at Leonard, who was carefully adjusting a cloth for Thalira.
'Look at how he touches her.'
The whisper of a demonic voice echoed in her mind.
'You used to be her. And now you're nothing. He's tending to the trophy that remains, while your sister rots in a shallow grave.'
Cecília closed her eyes for a moment, letting the anger sink in—using it to fuel her actions. She was setting up her "bed" on the hard ground, but her mind was racing with ways to make Leonard suffer.
As Cecília moved away, wearing a mask of mourning to hide her silent hatred, Calista was tending to the others' wounds with ease—it was almost as if she were a master at it.
The camp was miserable, hastily made and meant to be quickly dismantled. They used their only cloths to line the ground, with Aurelia's nutrient bread as their only meal.
As they prepared to rest, Sophie tried to clean the few superficial wounds she had left with a damp cloth. Her movements were slow and resigned, and she avoided everyone's gaze, fully aware of the resentful looks—especially Cecília's, though they weren't directed at her.
Suddenly, a warm voice approached her.
"Let me help, let me help."
It was Calista, with a sweet yet distracted expression. She knelt beside Sophie and gently took the cloth from her hands.
"You need to rest, you need to rest," Calista said, unaware of the weight her words carried, given Sophie's guilt.
Sophie tried to protest. "No, Calista, I'm fine. I—"
"Shhh," Calista murmured softly, her voice gentle but firm—like that of an older sister.
As Calista leaned closer to reach Sophie's injured arm, the generous curve of her chest brushed against Sophie's other arm. Sophie flinched, a blush quickly rising to her face—a confused reaction between surprise and a strange warmth.
Calista, meanwhile, remained unaware of the intimate touch, her face focused solely on cleaning the skin.
To concentrate better, Calista moved even closer. Unintentionally, she pressed her ample breasts against Sophie's arm once again, the touch both firm and soft.
"Calista, you... you're too... close," Sophie stammered, her voice trembling.
"No... I'm not," Calista replied simply. "If I, if I stay far, I can't, I can't see. I need, need to see."
Sophie couldn't say another word. The closeness was too much. Her heart raced. The warmth of Calista's body and her protective actions—though unconsciously ambiguous—brought Sophie a strange comfort that contrasted with all the violence and hatred she had endured. She allowed herself a brief moment to relax, feeling protected—almost cradled in a mother's arms.
But it didn't last long. That warmth reminded her of someone—someone very dear to her, whom she had pushed away with her own fears and insecurities.
Calista noticed Sophie's bitter expression and asked,
"Does it, does it hurt...? Am I doing, doing it wrong?"
Her hands stopped moving, and she leaned back, facing Sophie. Their eyes met—Calista's violet gaze locking with Sophie's, making her look away, flustered.
"It's nothing... Just... Just..." Sophie stuttered, unable to find the right words.
Calista smiled and said in a strangely sweet, almost syrupy tone,
"Ohhh... I understand... No need to explain..."
After making sure Sophie's wounds were properly treated, she turned around and walked away.
A hollow feeling filled Sophie's heart as she watched Calista move to another girl, repeating the process of cleaning wounds and applying green ointment.
It was a painful yet familiar feeling. The same as when she let Kyle go. The same as when Leonard stopped caring about her...
And now, it was happening with Calista. The same feeling she always had when losing someone.
That made Sophie think.
'Am I... in love with Calista?'