Roland sat up slowly, bracing one hand against the cobbles. His fingers were still trembling. When the adventurer looked at him,waiting,Roland swallowed and started talking. Not because anyone forced him to, but because after everything that had happened, silence felt worse than explaining himself.
He told him they'd been walking home after showing Elin around the city. He'd wanted to point out a few places he knew from work and day-to-day life. It was supposed to be an ordinary evening,nothing special,and the shortcut they took was one he'd known for years. He'd walked it plenty of times after late shifts, tired and half-asleep, and nothing had ever happened there before.
"I thought it'd be faster," he added more quietly, eyes dropping. "And that nothing would happen."
The adventurer listened without interrupting, standing over them with his arms loose at his sides. When Roland finished, the man let out a deep breath,like someone who'd heard the same story more times than he wanted to remember.
"Night shortcuts are for people who've got luck to spare," he said at last, calm but firm. "And at night, luck runs out fast."
He turned and kicked one of the thugs on the ground,not hard, more irritation than cruelty.
"Then you run into trash like this," he added. "And not everyone gets lucky enough for someone to pass by in time."
Roland nodded, feeling something thick gathering in his throat.
"I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "It was my call. Thank you for… for making it in time. I learned my lesson. Really. I won't be walking through places like this at night again."
The adventurer studied him for a moment, like he was deciding whether that was fear talking,or something that would actually stick. Then he nodded once.
"Good," he muttered. "Because next time there might not be anyone who can throw a knife faster than they can grab you."
He sheathed his weapons, grabbed one thug by the collar, another by the belt, and forced the third upright with a kick, dragging them toward the brighter street where the lantern light was stronger.
"And you two," he called back over his shoulder to Roland and Elin. "Stick to the main roads. Stay where there are people. And don't go looking for trouble someone else has to clean up afterward."
He didn't wait for a reply.
He walked off, hauling three groaning men behind him, their shuffling steps and curses fading into the distance.
Roland got to his feet slowly, pain blooming in his shoulder and hip. He looked at Elin,still pale, still pressed close to him,and without a word, pointed her toward the main road, bright with lamplight and still dotted with a few late-night passersby.
***
The kitchen was warm, even though the fire under the hearth had long since dimmed. Conversation drifted on at an unhurried pace, like no one wanted to be the first to break the evening and remind everyone that the kids were out there, and the city at night could be… unpredictable.
Roland's father, Marek, sat at the table with a mug in his hands, turning it slowly out of habit more than thirst. His wife, Alina, kept fussing with plates that had already been cleared,because keeping her hands busy made it easier to talk about harder things.
"I look at them and sometimes I can't believe they're already this old," Alina said at last with a small smile. "Roland barely reached the table not long ago. Now he's showing a girl around the city like he's grown."
"It all goes too fast," Marek muttered. "It always goes too fast."
Elin's father, Tomas, snorted softly, raising an eyebrow.
"You say that like you weren't the same at his age," he shot back. "Remember when we snuck out of the riverside village to the night market? Your mother wanted to kill me."
Marek's mouth twitched into a brief smile as he shook his head.
"She did," he admitted. "And I still don't know how we made it back in one piece."
Elin's mother, Sara, sitting across from them, glanced aside as if her thoughts drifted somewhere far away.
"Kids always seem stronger than they are," she said quietly. "And then the world takes that childhood back from them… fast."
For a moment, a heavier silence settled,thick enough that everyone could feel the conversation turning toward a place they usually avoided.
"We used to say the same thing back in the village," Marek said finally, the smile gone. "That the kids would manage. That they were clever. That they knew the woods. That the monsters wouldn't come that far."
Tomas nodded slowly.
"And then the dungeon broke," he added. "And nothing was ever the same."
Sara's fingers tightened around her mug.
"I remember that day," she said. "The screaming. The smoke. And that feeling,running without knowing where, just away from home."
Alina lowered her gaze.
"Our son ran too," she said softly. "But like always… he wanted to help the weaker ones."
The words hung in the air,heavy and sharp,because it was the first time anyone had said them that plainly, without sidestepping, without half-sentences.
"He thought he could warn the next village over," Marek added, voice calm but rigid. "Thought he had time to tell them and still get out."
No one needed to ask how that ended.
"You holding up?" Sara asked after a moment, careful.
Alina nodded.
"We try," she said. "Day by day. We focus on Roland. On work. On what's in front of us. Because if we go back to that day…" She trailed off with a helpless flick of her hand.
"…you can't even get out of bed," Marek finished.
Tomas exhaled and lifted his mug.
"It's good Roland has you," he said. "And that he ended up in Klein's shop. That man's solid. Has his head on straight."
"Working for a merchant isn't a life dream," Marek admitted. "But it's stable. And I…" He hesitated. "I'm at the city warehouses now. I watch deliveries, sometimes help with inventories. It's not hero work, but it's enough."
Sara smiled faintly.
"And we live in the south now," she added. "Near the road to Vethan. Tomas works on bridges. I help at the clinic. We're only here a few days,passing through,because…" She looked at Alina. "Because family is still family, even when the world falls apart."
Alina nodded, something tightening in her chest,yet for the first time in a long while, it wasn't only grief. There was a quiet relief too. They weren't alone in it.
The conversation drifted toward lighter things after that,childhood trouble, how Elin had always been stubborn, how Roland had always carried too much responsibility on his shoulders,but the important part had already been said. It stayed between them, unspoken now, but shared.
Then the apartment door opened more roughly than Roland would've liked. His hands were still shaking. When he stepped inside with Elin, both of them wore the same look,exhaustion tangled with fear that hadn't had time to fade.
Alina noticed first. She stood so quickly her chair scraped the floor, rushing toward them. Marek rose too, and Elin's parents with him,everyone talking at once, asking what happened, why they were so pale, why Elin was clinging to Roland like she wouldn't let go until she closed her eyes.
Roland drew a deep breath and started from the beginning. Calm. No dramatics. They'd taken a shortcut. Three men. They ran. He yelled. Someone heard,thank the gods,and an adventurer saved them.
When he finished, the kitchen went quiet. Heavy and taut.
"Are you out of your mind?!" Marek exploded, slamming his palm onto the table hard enough to make a mug jump. "At night, in alleys, with a girl you're responsible for, in the city?! Are you stupid, or do you just not care if you die?!"
Roland didn't flinch. He just lowered his eyes and nodded. Because he knew that shout wasn't only about tonight,it was about everything Marek had lost, and everything he was still terrified of losing.
"Marek," Alina snapped, gripping his shoulder. "Enough."
Then she looked at Roland, and there was no yelling in her voice now,only tired concern.
"You failed," she said evenly. "And you put more than yourself at risk. You have to understand that."
"I do," Roland whispered. "I really do."
Marek's posture sagged like something finally gave way. The anger drained out of him and left something worse behind,fear.
"Sorry," he muttered after a moment. "I just…," He couldn't finish.
Alina pulled Roland into a tight embrace without a word, like she needed to confirm he was real, that he was here.
"You must've been terrified," she murmured.
Across the kitchen, Sara and Tomas wrapped Elin up. At last, Elin let herself shake. Then, exhausted, she sank down,and a moment later she was asleep, head against her mother's shoulder, like her body had been waiting for permission to stop.
Tomas came over to Roland and set a hand on his shoulder,heavy, rough, steady.
"Thank you," he said simply. "For not leaving her."
Roland nodded, unable to find anything worth saying.
When Elin was sleeping more peacefully and the tension finally began to loosen, her parents started to gather their things. They spoke quietly,about heading to the inn, leaving early in the morning, not waking her now.
The goodbyes were short and soft,handshakes, tired hugs, looks that held more gratitude and exhaustion than words ever could. When the door closed behind them, the house fell into a calm, weighty silence.
Roland stood there for a moment longer, knowing this night would stay with him for a long time,no matter how normal the city looked tomorrow, as if nothing had happened at all.