Chapter 17 – Saving The Trapped Girl
Rest days at the academy were supposed to be quiet.
No early morning drills. No surprise assessments. Just free hours where students could wander the inner grounds, study, or—if they had permission—visit the nearby city during daylight.
Rion had insisted we go.
"We'll die if we eat only academy food," he'd declared dramatically.
"You said the academy food was amazing," I'd answered.
"Yes, but what if we forget what bad food tastes like? That would be tragic."
In the end, the professor in charge of our dorm sighed and gave a small group of us a temporary pass to go outside the outer gate, as long as we stayed in the main streets and returned before sunset.
So, a few hours later, I was walking through the city with a pouch of coins at my waist and Rion arguing with a street vendor over the price of roasted skewers.
"Two for three coppers," the vendor said.
"Daylight robbery," Rion replied. "At least make it three for three."
"You want charity or lunch?"
I let them haggle. My attention was elsewhere.
The city around the academy was lively. Stalls lined the streets, selling everything from food to charms to cheap trinkets. Knights in light patrol armour passed now and then. Children chased each other between adults' legs.
It should have felt normal.
It didn't.
[ System ]
[ Minor Luck +1 for next Divination roll – Active ]
[ Calculating Route Deviation… ]
A faint chill slid down my spine.
"Erynd?" Rion called over his shoulder. "You want meat or not?"
"One moment," I said.
Something tugged at me.
Not physically. Just a strange sensation, like my thoughts were being pulled toward a point I couldn't see yet. The same feeling I'd had under the Star-Dome Hall when the threads appeared.
The noise of the market faded slightly.
Beneath it, I heard something else.
Very faint.
"…pl-please help me... please"
I turned.
The voice had come from a narrow side alley between two larger buildings. Somewhere most people's eyes slid over without really seeing.
[ System ]
[ Branch Point Detected ]
[ Timeline Note: In the original route, target becomes "Underworld Queen" at age 20. ]
[ Status: Lowest Point Reached. ]
My hand tightened on the pouch at my belt.
So this was it.
Somewhere not far from here, there is a girl who would sit in an alley, ask the air for help, and receive no answer.
Years later, she'd sit on a different chair, above a different tavern, and the city would call her "Queen" with fear in their voices.
I swallowed.
"I'll be back," I said.
Rion looked up from his negotiation. "Where are you going?"
"To check something," I said. "Buy me one too. I'll pay you back."
He squinted. "If you get lost, I'm not explaining it to the professor."
I raised a hand and turned away before he could ask more.
The alley was half in shadow, half in weak daylight. Trash piled in the corners. Water from the last rain clung stubbornly to the cracks in the stones.
At first, I didn't see anyone.
Then I noticed her.
She sat on the ground with her back against the wall, where it met a stack of old crates. Knees drawn to her chest. Arms wrapped around them. A thin, worn cloak draped over her shoulders, more holes than cloth.
A cracked bowl sat in front of her.
Empty.
If she lifted her head, she'd be about level with my chest. Older than me—sixteen, maybe—but she looked lighter than she should, like the city had been quietly shaving pieces off her for years. Her wrists were thin where they peeked out from her sleeves, bones clear under the skin, and her ankles barely filled the cracked leather of boots that had long since stopped keeping water out.
The cloak around her shoulders was a tired brown, edges frayed, patched in places with mismatched thread and bits of string. Under it, the hem of what might once have been a decent dark-blue dress showed, now faded to a muddy grey, the fabric worn shiny in some places and torn in others. It hung off her frame like it had been made for someone a little heavier, a little healthier, a long time ago.
Her hair, under the hood, was long enough to brush her shoulders, dark and uneven at the ends, as if it had been cut with a dull knife in bad light. It should have fallen smooth, you could tell from the way it wanted to lie in straight lines, but dirt and neglect had turned it dull, strands clumping together. Her face had no scars—no dramatic marks, no jagged lines—just the too-clean smoothness of someone who hadn't had enough to eat for too long. Her cheeks were hollow, making her grey eyes look larger and older than they should have, and her lips were the colour of leftover candle wax.
Even the way she sat told a story: back straight, knees drawn up, hands folded carefully over them as if she'd been taught to sit properly and her body refused to forget it, even here, even now. Only her fingers betrayed her—clenched a little too tightly in the fabric, like she was holding on to the last thread of something she couldn't name.
She didn't notice me at first.
Her lips moved silently, like she was repeating the last words she'd just whispered, too tired to say them again.
"…please…"
[ System ]
[ Target Located ]
[ Route Character – "Underworld Queen" (Future) ]
[ Current Title: None ]
[ State: Starving / Exhausted / Hopeless ]
I stepped closer.
One of her hands tightened around the edge of her cloak, as if expecting a kick.
I stopped just outside the reach of her legs and crouched down, lowering my head enough that I wasn't looking down on her completely.
"Hello," I said.
Slowly, she lifted her head.
Her eyes were… empty wasn't the right word. Not yet. Tired. Defensive. Like a stray animal that had been hit too many times when it approached people.
When she saw my uniform, something flickered in them. Recognition, maybe. The academy colours were hard to miss.
"If you're here to feel sorry," she said hoarsely, "you can do it from the street. I don't have the energy for pity today."
Her voice was rough, but underneath it, the accent was clean. Trained. Noble.
Even here.
"I'm not here to pity you," I said. "I heard someone asking for help."
Her eyes widened for a heartbeat, then narrowed.
"That wasn't for you," she muttered, dropping her gaze. "It wasn't for anyone. Just… noise."
[ System ]
[ Timeline Reminder: In original route, nobody heard. ]
"I heard," I said simply.
She laughed once, a dry, fragile sound.
"Then congratulations," she said. "You win the prize of seeing something pathetic."
My hand slipped into my pouch.
There wasn't much inside. Enough for some food, a few small things. Not a fortune. But more than the nothing in her bowl.
I took out a few coins and dropped them into her bowl.
She flinched at the sound.
Clink.
She stared at the coins like they were something dangerous.
"…Are you stupid?" she asked quietly. "Do you want someone to follow you into this alley and beat you for being generous?"
"Probably not," I said. "But I'll risk it."
"Why?"
"Because I can."
Her jaw clenched.
"You shouldn't say things like that," she muttered. "People who say 'because I can' usually end up stepping on others, not helping them."
"In my case," I said, "it means I have enough to spare and no one to yell at me about the ledger yet."
She snorted weakly.
"Spare," she echoed. "Must be nice."
I looked at her a moment longer.
Her cloak was too thin. Her shoes were worn to almost nothing. Her hands—when they loosened their grip on the fabric—were raw in places, scars old and new crossing the skin.
A fragment of the vision from the Star-Dome flashed in my mind.
A throne over a dark room. Coins stacked in neat piles. People kneeling. That same pair of hands resting on the armrest, steady, surrounded by shadows.
And then, another vision, faint, like a path drawn in sand.
The same alley.
Empty.
No bowl.
No girl.
Just a memory the city didn't keep.
"…Divination, huh," I murmured.
The girl frowned.
"What?"
"Nothing," I said. "Have you eaten today?"
She looked at me like I'd asked if she had flown here.
"…No," she said finally. "Yesterday… no. Before that… I don't remember."
"Stand up," I said.
She laughed again, but there was no amusement in it.
"Can't," she said. "If I move, someone will take the spot. This corner is… decent."
"Decent?"
"People walk by," she said. "Sometimes coins fall. Sometimes they don't kick the bowl." Her shoulders twitched. "That's decent."
I considered that.
Then I stepped past her, into the alley, and sat down next to her, my back against the same wall, sword at my side.
She blinked.
"…What are you doing?" she asked.
"Guarding your decent spot," I said. "If anyone tries to take it while you go eat, I'll stab their foot."
She stared at me.
My uniform. My sword. My age.
"…You're ridiculous," she whispered.
"Hungry," I corrected. "And you are too. Come on."
Her fingers tightened in her cloak again.
"…I don't have the strength to argue," she said. "And I don't have the right to refuse food."
Slowly, shakily, she pushed herself up using the wall. Her legs trembled more than they should have for a sixteen-year-old.
If she fell, she wouldn't get back up easily.
I stood as well.
She looked smaller standing than she did sitting. The hunger had stolen some of her height, folding her in on herself.
"Don't run," she warned weakly. "If you're planning something."
"If I wanted to hurt you," I said, "I wouldn't have needed to sit down first."
"…Fair."
We walked out of the alley together.
Her steps were careful, like she expected every sound to turn into pursuit. Her eyes flicked to every uniform, every glint of metal.
At the street's edge, she hesitated.
"Too bright?" I asked.
"Too many people," she said.
"Stay behind me."
"That doesn't help."
"Stay behind me anyway."
She clicked her tongue but did as I said, half-hidden by my smaller frame.
We made our way back toward the main street. Rion spotted me immediately and rushed over, skewers in hand.
"Erynd! Where were you—"
He stopped when he saw the girl.
His eyes flicked from her cloak to her face to the empty bowl she still clutched like a shield.
"Friend of yours?" he asked quietly.
"Not yet," I said. "Two more of those," I added, nodding at the skewers. "And whatever else we can get from that stall."
Rion squinted.
"You planning to bankrupt yourself on day one?" he asked. But he was already turning back to the vendor. "Fine, fine. I'll order. You owe me."
"I know."
While he argued with the vendor again, I guided the girl to a nearby low wall and had her sit.
She lowered herself slowly, like every movement might break something.
Up close, in better light, the traces of who she had been were clearer.
The way she tried to sit straight even when too tired to care. The way her fingers held the bowl properly, not cupped like most beggars. The way her grey eyes kept defaulting to measuring people, weighing exits.
All that, wrapped in rags.
[ System ]
[ Confirming Route: "Saving The Trapped Girl" ]
[ In Original Timeline: At age 16, target's plea goes unanswered. Route progresses to "Underworld Queen – Established" by age 20. ]
[ Current State: Intervention in Progress ]
[ Warning: Choices here will permanently alter future events. ]
I exhaled.
"I get it," I thought at the System. "You don't have to write multiple times."
It ignored me, as usual.
Rion came back with his arms full—skewers, bread, something in a paper packet that smelled like fried dough.
He handed the first skewer to the girl.
She stared at it like it was a spell.
"Eat," I said.
Her fingers trembled as she took it.
The first bite was small. Almost a test bite. Then something in her eyes changed. The second bite was bigger. The third had no hesitation at all.
Grease ran down her fingers. She didn't stop.
Rion looked away politely, pretending to be deeply fascinated by his own food.
She finished the skewer too quickly, like someone afraid the food would vanish if she went too slow.
I handed her a piece of bread.
"And this."
She hesitated this time.
"…Why?" she asked, voice low. "Why are you doing this?"
Because I saw you die slow.
Because I saw you live long enough to make others die faster.
Because in one line of the sky, we never met.
"Because I heard you," I said again. "And I can't pretend I didn't."
Her throat worked.
"No one else did," she whispered.
"They do now."
She stared at me for a long moment.
"You'll regret it," she said eventually. "Helping someone like me."
"Probably," I said honestly. "But that's future me's problem."
A weak laugh escaped her, barely there.
She took the bread.
Her hands were still shaking, but she held it like something precious.
[ System ]
[ Route Flag Raised: "Trapped Girl: First Rescue" ]
[ Future Title "Underworld Queen" – Stability Reduced ]
[ New Possible Title Unlocked: Mastermine ]
I didn't know what that meant yet.
But I knew this:
In one timeline, a girl sat alone in an alley and whispered "please help me" to a sky that stayed silent.
In this one, I heard her.
And this time, I stepped forward.
This time, I reached out.
"After this," I said, "we'll figure out somewhere better than that alley."
She looked down at the bread, then up at the slice of sky visible between the buildings.
Her lips moved.
The words were almost the same as before.
"…Please," she whispered again, but this time, it wasn't to the empty air.
"Help me."
"I will," I said.
This time, it was a promise.