Chapter 77: Crumbs of Truth
"Admit it."
The words hung in the air like a blade suspended mid-fall.
Aeron’s breath stuttered.
His hands, still bleeding from split knuckles, trembled at his sides. For a moment, he looked like he might bolt—like a wounded animal backed into a corner. Then, slowly, his shoulders sagged. His fists clenched so tightly his nails bit into his palms, fresh blood welling up.
His gaze lost focus, staring through me rather than at me.
"...Yes." The word was a whisper, raw and broken. "I did it." A shuddering inhale. "I tried to kill you." His voice cracked. "I—I am the one to bl—!"
"Am I dead?" I cut in, tilting my head.
"-?" Aeron froze.
A visible question mark might as well have materialized above his head. His guilt-twisted features slackened, replaced by pure, stunned confusion.
I didn’t give him time to recover. "So, am I dead now?"
"Did you kill me?"
"..."
"...N-No," Aeron rasped, barely audible.
"Right. I’m alive—you didn’t or more accurately you couldn’t kill me." I leaned back against the rock, taking another bite of my sandwich.
"And it seems like you weren’t exactly in your right mind. After all, you wouldn’t try to kill me since we were something like friends..." I paused, chewing deliberately. "...Well, unless you hated me for being Emilia’s ball partner."
Aeron’s head snapped up. "I-I didn’t—!"
"Shh." I held up a hand, silencing him. "I’m not done talking yet."
Aeron shut his mouth with an audible click of teeth, his bewildered expression making him look like a scolded puppy. He stared at me like I’d just turned the world upside down - which, in a way, I had.
"Okay, good," I continued, brushing crumbs off my lap. "So you tried to kill me but couldn’t - I’m alive. And I didn’t ask for any apologies," I waved my sandwich for emphasis, "or compensation, or whatever dramatic repentance you’re torturing yourself with, did I?"
Aeron shook his head unconsciously, his eyes wide.
"Good." I took another bite before pointing the remaining half of my sandwich at him like a professor’s pointer. "If the victim - that’s me again by the way - didn’t demand anything for what you did, why are you like this?"
My gesture encompassed his entire disheveled appearance. "Your hair looks like a bird’s nest, your uniform is wrinkled enough to pass as origami, and you smell like you haven’t seen a bathhouse in weeks. And I hear you’ve been ignoring everyone, holing up in your room like some tragic hermit."
I leaned forward. "Come on, why are you acting like a noble lady who just discovered her fiancé ran off with the maid? Aren’t you supposed to be a man? Even kindergarteners handle their guilt better than this."
Aeron’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. "I...I..." His words stuck in his throat, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.
I sat back and let the silence stretch, watching as emotions warred across his face - shame, frustration, realization, and something darker beneath the surface. The waterfall’s steady roar filled the space between us, giving him time to sort through the storm in his head.
After what felt like minutes but was probably only thirty seconds, Aeron finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "I-it’s... not exactly about that..."
"About what?" I prompted.
He swallowed hard. "It’s not... not just about what I did to you..."
I raised an eyebrow. "So you mean you aren’t sorry for nearly bisecting me?"
"N-no! I’m sorry!" He flinched at his own raised voice. "W-what I mean is... there’s another reason..." His fingers dug into his thighs. "It’s... complicated."
The way his eyes flickered to the side told me everything.
This wasn’t just about the incident with me.
Something - or someone - else was haunting him.
And I think I pretty much figured it out. But I had to make him say it himself. I had to make him confront his past - his fears and whatever darkness that sword had dragged into the light.
"Is it really complicated?" I asked, tilting my head. "Or is it just you yourself who’s complicating everything?"
Aeron flinched. "Y-you don’t understand—"
"Then make me understand." I stared him down, my voice firm. "Tell me about it, and let me judge if it’s as complicated as you think. Or are you going to keep everything bottled up until you die of loneliness?"
Silence.
Aeron’s jaw worked, but no words came out. His fingers dug deeper into his thighs, the fabric wrinkling under his grip.
After a few seconds, I chuckled and leaned back. "Alright, you don’t have to tell me anything."
His head snapped up, eyes wide with what might have been relief—or maybe regret.
I smiled.
"...It’s because I already figured it out." I took a slow sip from my tea bottle.
"It’s that sword, right? The one you tried to stab me-"
Aeron’s breath hitched before I could finish. "H-how did you—?"
"Hehe, isn’t it because I’m smart?" I grinned, even as I laughed inwardly.
It couldn’t be more obvious than that you know.
Besides, I have memories packed with knowledge of stories, you know. And something called a "System" you probably don’t even understand, oh clueless romcom MC.
Out loud, I continued, "And it’s not an ordinary sword, is it?" I tapped my chin mock-thoughtfully. "Perhaps it’s a powerful ancient weapon... or maybe a cursed one. Something that demands a price for using it—your lifeforce, your aura... or even... yourself."
Aeron’s eyes widened further, his face paling.
Bullseye.
I smirked. "Judging by your reaction, it’s the latter, huh?" I took another bite of sandwich, chewing slowly before adding, "You were either possessed by that sword or consumed by it—your emotions, your darkness, whatever nonsense it is. And..." I leaned in, voice dropping. "That wasn’t the first time, was it? You’ve done something before. In the past."
Aeron’s breath stopped entirely.
"..."
I watched as he mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air, his eyes darting between me and the pond as if searching for answers in the rippling water. His fingers twitched at his sides, torn between reaching for an invisible sword and clutching at his own chest.
After a long moment, I sighed dramatically and pushed off from the rock. "Alright, it’s not my place to meddle in your tragic backstory. Just pretend I said nothing, then I’ll—"
"W-Wait...!"
The desperation in his voice made me pause mid-turn. I glanced over my shoulder to see Aeron hunched forward, his hands gripping his knees so tightly his tendons stood out like bowstrings.
"...Hehe." I couldn’t help but smirk at how easily he’d taken the bait.
But considering the state he is in, it is totally understanable.
I’d only taken three steps when his voice cracked through the clearing.
"...I... I’ll tell you..."
Slowly, I turned back.
Aeron’s posture had collapsed entirely—his shoulders slumped, his head bowed so low his bangs shadowed his eyes. A single drop of blood fell from his clenched fist to stain the autumn leaves beneath him.
"Okay," I said simply, retaking my seat on the rock. I grabbed another sandwich from Emilia’s lunchbox and held it out to him. "But eat first. You look like you’re about to pass out."
Aeron stared at the offered food as if it were some foreign object. His throat worked silently before he reached out with trembling fingers.
"?"
He stared at me in confusion, as if to say - are you playing with me right now?
"Wash your hands firsts, you aren’t gonna eat it with that hand, right?"
"..."
I smiled as Aeron stood up stiffly, like a scolded child told to wash up before dinner. Shoulders hunched, he shuffled toward the stream, muttering under his breath, still too proud to pout outright.
I watched him go—mud-stained, bloodied, and miserably obedient.
He was finally ready to talk.
And I was ready to hear the story he’d buried so deep it nearly consumed him.