Chapter 173: The Boy Before Hiiro (1)

After Astrid and Caius left, Hiiro remained in the tavern for another five minutes, just long enough to finish the watered-down drink in his cup, hear Dorian repeat the same warning for what felt like the third time, and watch one large argument break into smaller ones throughout the tavern.

The people staying behind had already begun discussing houses, not whether they should stay. So at this point, the decision had already been made.

Hiiro understood why they wanted to stay. From a strategic perspective, remaining here was not a terrible choice. The immediate quest had already been cleared. Compared with blindly walking toward another floor filled with undead creatures whose abilities might change without warning, choosing a known danger made an uncomfortable amount of sense.

Unfortunately, a sensible choice could still resemble surrender when viewed from the wrong angle.

Hiiro pushed away from the table before somebody dragged him into the philosophical portion of the discussion. and slid both hands into his pockets. He slipped through the tavern door without announcing his departure to anyone who knew him. The adults were too busy deciding the shape of their remaining lives.

Astrid and Caius had already gone to the inn where Misha, who had been unconscious for three days, was located.

He disliked that number more every time he thought of it.

One day could be exhaustion. Two days could be the Bell House doing something strange to her mana, soul, brain, or any of the other increasingly questionable things Misha possessed. Three days meant every time somebody entered the room and came back out shaking their head, the knot under Hiiro's chest tightened a little more.

He considered following them since he was worried as well. He could already picture what awaited him inside Misha's room. Astrid would sit near the bed, and Caius would stand near the window. As for himself? He would eventually say something stupid because silence made him restless, and Astrid would threaten to throw him outside.

Better to walk until his head stopped being so loud then.

The evening air struck cooler than the warmth inside the tavern. Lamps had already been lit beneath several awnings, their yellow light spilling across packed earth while villagers moved between them carrying baskets, bags, and other tools.

For a village surrounded by carnivorous birds, and caves full of bats that spread infections, it had the nerve to feel almost natural.

Ordinarily, Hiiro would have stopped to talk. He could talk to nearly anyone. Old people liked him because he let them complain without appearing impatient. Children liked him because he never spoke to them as though being young made them stupid. People his own age often decided within minutes that they had known him much longer.

Hiiro had always been good at making others comfortable. He had become even better at making himself easy to like.

Tonight, however, every voice in the square sounded half a degree too loud.

"Hiiro!"

He glanced toward the well.

Benten, the old man, was standing beside it with a basket tucked beneath one arm, already waving him over.

Hiiro's grin automatically appeared. "Evening, sir!"

"You eaten yet?" Benten asked. "I made apple pies. Still have a few left if you want one."

"Tempting, but I'm gonna have to pass." Hiiro patted his stomach with an exaggerated grimace. "I'm already one bite away from exploding. That's why I'm walking it off."

The old man laughed. "Suit yourself. Don't come complaining when they're gone."

"I shall mourn for them responsibly."

Hiiro lifted a hand in farewell and kept walking.

The smile stayed in place until Benten was behind him. Then it disappeared as though it had never been there.

He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets.

That was another thing he rarely thought about. How quickly his face changed when nobody was watching.

He had not meant to leave the village. His feet made the decision before the rest of him caught up.

The square thinned behind him. Houses gave way to vegetable plots, storage sheds, and small fenced pastures where animals shifted restlessly beneath the darkening sky.

The road narrowed toward the outer gate, and Hiiro slowed there.

A guard glanced at him. "Not going far, are you?"

Hiiro flashed another easy grin. "Do I look suicidal?"

The guard examined him. "A little."

"That's hurtful, you know." He pouted.

"Just stay where we can hear you scream."

Hiiro couldn't help but laugh. "Yes sir."

Hiiro stepped through before the man could reconsider allowing him out.

He did not go far.

The village rooftops remained visible behind him, outlined beneath the first wash of stars. The nearest watchtower stood close enough that a sufficiently desperate shout might accomplish something, assuming the guards didn't spend several seconds debating whether Hiiro deserved whatever had found him.

The farther he walked, the quieter everything became.

For the first time that evening, Hiiro heard his own footsteps clearly. He didn't like that either.

The path curved downward along a shallow ridge, and something sweet touched the air. Hiiro followed the trail until the trees opened into a small valley.

Flowers covered nearly all of it, thousands, or maybe ten thousands.

Small blossoms grew densely between knee-high grass,each with pale petals that seemed ordinary whenever moonlight touched them. But inside the shadows, veins of blue-white luminescence spread through each flower, creating the strange illusion that pieces of starlight had fallen from the sky and taken root.

He stopped at the edge, and stared. 'Not ominous at all.'

The flowers continued glowing with suspicious innocence.

Hiiro approached the nearest flower, crouched and poked it. It bent beneath his finger, then lifted again. No thorns sprang from the earth, no spores exploded into his face, and no System notice informed him that he had stepped into a hidden quest area.

If the flowers were poisonous, he had Poison Resistance.

He walked into the field, and the flowers bent around his boots without breaking.

Blue-white light rippled through them as the wind moved, giving the valley the appearance of breathing beneath the growing dark. Hiiro kept walking until the dirt path disappeared entirely.

Then he stopped, sighed, and sat down. Then, after another moment, he let himself fall backward into the grass.

Several flowers flattened beneath him.

Then he folded both arms beneath him, and gazed up as the sky stretched enormous overhead.

For several minutes, he did nothing… and it was surprisingly difficult.

His body had become accustomed to constant movement: training, fighting, keeping track of people. There was always someone to tease, to encourage, distract, or irritate into action. So here, with no one beside him, his thoughts became louder.

That was the real reason Hiiro disliked silence. It left him with no audience to entertain and no mood to manage except his own.

He watched a thin cloud drift across the sky, then he closed his eyes.

For one breath, everything became dark and quiet. Then–

"Souta…"

Hiiro's eyes snapped open. His body moved before his mind.

He shoved himself upright so violently that both palms crushed glowing blossoms beneath them. Petal scattered around his wrist, and for a fraction of a second he expected an enemy who learned his true name.

His head turned, there was no one behind him. There was nothing near the ridge too.

Then the wind changed.

Petals rose from the field, dozens at first, then hundreds. They lifted around him like pale sparks caught in an invisible current, spinning gently through the darkness.

Hiiro stopped breathing.

For a moment, he forgot to breathe.

A woman stood several steps away from him. She wore a simple white dress, the fabric gently in the night breeze. Her hair moved with it, strands brushing across a face illuminated faintly by the flowers around her.

A face Hiiro knew.

It was not from Worldspire Online, not from Shimura Hiiro's memories, but it was from somewhere older.

His chest tightened so sharply it hurt.

The woman's lips curved into a soft smile, something heartbreakingly familiar for Hiiro.

"Souta…"

There it was again. The name struck deeper the second time.

The name she said was not the name attached to this body, not the person everybody inside the Tower knew.

The name belonged to a boy who had lived in another world.

A boy who had gone to school, trained until every muscle in his body ached, and learned to smile because smiles kept the room calmer.

For months now, Hiiro had treated that boy like someone who had already died. Someone whose memories he carried, whose habits still clung stubbornly to his body, but whose life had ended the moment he opened his eyes inside Worldspire online.

His fingers curled slowly into the grass.

Watanabe Souta.

The was his real name… the first one.

And for the first time since waking inside the Tower, someone had called him by it. Worse, it had come from someone wearing a face he could never mistake for anyone else.