Rena did not answer; she only stared at Milo.
Her gaze was like a blade wrapped in ice, slowly crushing the tiny spark of joy that had just risen in Milo.
In the next instant, Rena took a wide step forward.
She grabbed a wine glass from a nearby table and hurled it violently at Milo's head.
The glass struck Milo on the temple, shattering into pieces as ale splashed everywhere.
Milo staggered back, completely dazed.
The onlookers gasped in shock at the sudden turn of events.
Rena grabbed him by the collar, her voice thick with suppressed rage.
“Are you disappointed that I'm alive?”
Blood mixed with ale trickled down from Milo's temple.
Terrified by the Rena standing before him, his lips trembled uncontrollably.
“I'm not... I thought you were all dead...”
“You thought?”
Rena sneered, glaring at him.
“Of course that's what you thought, because you were the first bastard to run away!”
She practically spat the last words through gritted teeth.
Milo's face paled instantly, his voice shaking.
“I didn't...”
“You didn't?” Rena dragged him forward. “Where were you when Buck was dragged away by the vines?”
Milo froze. “V-Vines?”
“Where were you when Norman's arm was severed?”
“I...”
“And what were you doing when the bearded guy told you to set fire to the roots?”
Milo was utterly dumbfounded, but Rena did not stop.
“You just froze on the spot, shivering like a baby, and in the end, you used an item to abandon us and flee!”
Rena shoved him away violently.
Milo stumbled, nearly falling over, his mind in complete disarray.
Vines? What vines?
No.
That wasn't how it happened.
They had clearly seen a castle.
He stared blankly at the “Rena” before him, a sudden, indescribable chill rising in his chest.
She reached into her pocket, pulled out three mercenary badges, and slammed them onto the table.
One belonged to Buck, one to Norman, and one to the bearded guy.
Every eye in the tavern was instantly drawn to the three badges.
Several faces turned grim.
Mercenaries did not easily part with their badges unless they were dead.
Milo, of course, recognized those badges.
But how could they be in her hands?
Rena leaned against the table, seemingly suppressing her physical weakness, her voice barely a whisper.
“Buck is dead, and so is Norman.”
Rena looked up at Milo, the fury in her eyes burning even deeper.
“To cover my escape, the bearded guy was dragged into the mist by that treant. In the end, I was the only one who crawled out.”
Someone gasped.
“A treant?”
“Those things are magical beasts mutated from ancient trees. Where did you run into one?”
“The Mist-Dwelling Forest,” Rena said.
Whispers quickly broke out.
Compared to the castle that Milo claimed had suddenly appeared out of nowhere, a treant in the Mist-Dwelling Forest was far easier for the native mercenaries to believe.
Milo suddenly snapped his head up.
“No!”
His voice was shrill, cracking with panic.
“It wasn't a treant! The place we went wasn't the Mist-Dwelling Forest at all! It was the old trade route to the north! What we saw was a castle!”
Rena looked at him and suddenly smiled.
“The Mist-Dwelling Forest is known for causing hallucinations. Is it really so strange that you saw a castle?”
Milo froze.
Rena did not give him a chance to catch his breath, pressing on relentlessly.
“You were scared out of your wits, so you have no idea what happened afterward.”
“You were terrified that others would find out you were the first to flee, so you subconsciously accepted the castle from your hallucination as the truth, refusing to face reality.”
“Milo.”
She spoke his name softly, her tone actually relaxing.
“We should never have let you join our team. You are a complete coward, a parasite who ruined us!”
As soon as those words were uttered, the atmosphere in the tavern shifted instantly.
The looks directed at Milo grew thick with disdain.
Milo stood frozen, his hands and legs trembling violently.
He knew perfectly well that he was telling the truth.
But the eyes of everyone around him told him that he was nothing but a cowardly runaway.
Nearby, an old mercenary took a sip of his drink, looking at Milo with a scowl.
“Fleeing from battle is shameful enough, but trying to deceive people with your hallucinations is pathetic.”
Another person muttered in a low voice:
“Buck might not have been a good guy, but teaming up with someone like this... they can only blame their bad luck.”
Milo recoiled, knocking over the chair behind him.
“No... that's not how it was...”
His voice shook, his eyes darting around wildly.
For a fleeting moment, he thought he saw a faint curl at the corner of Rena's mouth, making his breath hitch.
She isn't Rena.
She is a monster from that castle.
She took Rena's identity and walked into Grey Oak Village just to silence him, to kill him.
Milo's breathing grew frantic.
“You're not her...”
The moment those words left his mouth, someone nearby immediately barked:
“Enough, Milo!”
“She made it back alive, and you're still refusing to admit it?”
“You ran away and don't have the guts to own up to it, so now you're trying to claim Rena is a fake?”
“Have some shame.”
Milo flailed his arms in sheer desperation.
“She really isn't! Listen to me!”
But no matter how hoarse he screamed, not a single person in the room looked at him with any respect.
Milo took a wild step backward, knocking over another chair.
“You'll regret this...”
His voice trembled, his eyes locked onto Rena.
“You will definitely regret this!”
With that, he spun around and bolted for the door.
Someone tried to block him, but he shoved them aside.
The tavern door slammed open with a loud bang, letting in a gust of cold wind before being flung shut again.
The figure in the dark green cloak in the corner quickly followed, leaving the tavern as well.
After a brief silence in the tavern, someone muttered a curse:
“Has he gone mad?”
“Looks like he was genuinely scared out of his mind.”
“Why even join the Mercenary Guild if you're such a coward? He got people killed and doesn't even have the balls to admit it.”
As the chatter resumed, Rena sat back down at the bar, making no move to pursue him.
Of course, she couldn't chase after him, nor could she kill him.
If Milo died, it would only raise suspicions and make people recall what he had said.
If he remained alive, he would be dismissed as a coward, loathed and doubted by everyone. That was the best outcome.
Isolde had learned a long time ago:
Once a person was pushed into a position where they had to “prove their innocence,” they had already lost half the battle.
Because onlookers would never have the patience to listen to a full explanation.
They would only fixate on your pauses, your anger, your hesitation, and every single slip of the tongue, turning them into fresh points of suspicion to interrogate you with.
The more desperately you tried to prove yourself, the more guilty you seemed.
The more details you tried to fill in, the easier it was for others to pick apart your story.
Self-justification was never a path to innocence.
It was more like a swamp.
The more you struggled, the deeper you sank.
Therefore, in the game of “proving oneself,” what the truth actually was did not matter.
What mattered was who could make themselves look more like the truth.
Rena slowly withdrew her hand, scooping the three badges back into her palm.
She lowered her gaze, her voice raspy.
“Barkeeper, a drink.”
Only then did the tavern keeper snap out of his daze, hastily pouring a cup and sliding it over.
Rena took the cup, her peripheral vision scanning every face in the tavern.
The mercenaries had stopped looking at the map, and the black market brokers had shifted their attention away from the old trade route.
Several parties were still whispering about the royal capital's bounty, their eyes filled with greed for the gold-grade skill scroll and the ten-thousand-gold reward.
Rena tilted her head back and took a sip.
The cheap ale rolled down her throat, bitter and astringent.
She set the glass down and coughed softly twice. Her complexion looked even worse, but the onlookers merely assumed she was severely injured.
Declining the concern of those around her, she began to calculate her next move in her head.
The rumors regarding Crow Candle Castle had been suppressed.
The next step was to spend one more day in the village under the identity of “Rena.”
Afterward, she would set off for the Mist-Dwelling Forest to settle some past-life scores with an “old acquaintance.”
Furthermore, the royal capital's bounty was a major nuisance.
As long as that document remained posted at the entrance of the village, she had to watch out for inspections by the royal capital's knights.
Fortunately, her current location was quite remote, so she wouldn't cross paths with them for the time being.
Rena downed the rest of her drink, then rose and left her seat.
When the barkeeper turned back, he only saw a single silver coin resting on the table.
That silver coin was only enough to cover tonight's drinks; it was far from clearing the old debts Rena had accumulated in the past.
The barkeeper's mouth twitched downward as he pried the silver coin off the table.
Hmph. She might have made it back alive, but she was still a deadbeat.
Rate on N.U.
