Chapter 8

A Bit Earlier

Xain adjusted his grip, steadying the albino man as they made their way through the bustling streets. After a moment of silence, he broke it with a simple question. "By the way, I don't know your name yet."

The man gave a sideways glance, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I don't know yours either, so why don't you go first?"

"Xain," he replied without hesitation. "Just Xain. No family name."

The man gave a small nod, as if filing the information away. "Roland. Roland Nepro."

They walked a few more steps before Roland casually added, "And kid… you're a thief, aren't you?"

Xain stumbled slightly, not from some uneven cobblestone but from the unexpected bluntness of the question. He recovered quickly, forcing the most generic response he could muster. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Roland chuckled. "Come on. I can tell who's part of the trade. It's in the way you move, the way you watch people. We've got that same itch, you and me."

Xain relaxed a little, realizing there was no point in denying it. "Ah, that makes sense. But if that's true, why did you chase after the snatcher?"

Roland arched an eyebrow, a glint of amusement in his pale eyes. "I could ask you the same thing." He shrugged, wincing slightly from the movement. "But to tell you the truth… I was actually planning to rob the noble girl. Then, well… you saw what happened."

Xain blinked before letting out a dry laugh. "Huh. That's almost the same as me. I was going to pickpocket the butler girl."

Roland let out a dry sigh, shaking his head. "Talk about being awful criminals."

"Tell me about it," Xain agreed, laughing softly.

A beat of silence passed before Xain asked, "By the way, why are you participating in the tournament? And if you're signed up, why were you still trying to steal?"

Roland was quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on the street ahead, eyes distant. Then, quietly, he muttered, "I need coin. More than I could ever get from petty theft. Winning the tournament… hell, even getting third place might be enough."

Curiosity flickered in Xain's mind. "How much do you get for winning?"

"First place is a hundred thousand gold," Roland replied without missing a beat. "Second's fifty thousand. Third gets you ten thousand."

Xain came to an abrupt stop, eyes wide. "Tha-tha-that much?"

The sudden halt nearly sent Roland stumbling, but he managed to stay upright, giving Xain's shoulder a light pat as if to urge him forward again. "Yeah. It's a lot, right?"

They resumed walking, the weight of those numbers lingering in Xain's mind. Roland continued, "The reason I was trying to steal from the noble girl was because if you pay five hundred gold, they'll give you a proper place to stay and some services during the tournament. Otherwise, you're on your own."

Xain nodded slowly, the pieces falling into place. After a moment, he asked, "So… are you still going to compete? You're really not in any condition to."

Roland's expression hardened. "I have to. Even if my back's broken, I have to. I need that coin, Xain. No matter what."

Xain glanced at him, the determination in Roland's voice lingering in his thoughts. *I don't know why he needs the coin,* he thought, *but I can tell it's a matter of life and death for him.*

The idea crept back into his mind, persistent and nagging. *Should I really try to do… that?* He shook his head, trying to dismiss it, but it lingered in the back of his mind like a shadow refusing to fade.

*Let's just get this purse back to its owner first.*

After some time navigating the crowded streets, Xain and Roland finally made it back to the bustling square. It didn't take long to spot the two women—their attire made them stand out like beacons among the crowd. The blonde woman noticed them immediately, her eyes widening as she hurried over.

"What happened? Did you get hurt?" she asked, her gaze fixed on Roland's battered state, seemingly unfazed about her purse.

Roland let out a dry chuckle, his sarcasm sharp despite his obvious pain. "Oh, don't worry. Just a broken back. Nothing to worry about."

The blonde woman sighed in relief, completely missing the sarcasm. "Oh, okay. That's good."

Both Xain and Roland exchanged bewildered glances, silently questioning if she was serious. The butler didn't seem the least bit surprised by her companion's obliviousness. She cut in with a calm, collected tone, "Did you manage to get the purse back?"

Xain nodded, holding it out. "Yeah, here. But… sorry, the snatcher took whatever was inside."

The blonde accepted the purse without hesitation, her expression remaining soft and kind. "Don't worry. As long as you got the purse back and you're both okay, that's what matters."

Xain blinked, casting another confused glance at Roland, who mirrored his expression. *Isn't she supposed to care about what was inside?* The butler sighed quietly, clearly accustomed to this sort of thing.

"Clara," she said, her tone patient but firm, "I think he was being sarcastic about being fine."

"Oh!" The blonde—Clara—gasped, her face lighting up with realization. She turned back to Roland with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry! I'm such a dizzard sometimes."

*What the fuck is she, a cavewoman?* Ercale's voice suddenly echoed in Xain's mind, the sheer bluntness of it making him flinch slightly. *I'm over a hundred thousand years old, and that's ancient even for me.*

*What does that even mean?* Xain asked mentally, trying to keep his expression neutral.

*It's an really, really old term for airhead, basically,* Ercale replied, sounding somewhat baffled.

*Huh. Weird,* Xain thought, finding nothing more to add.

Meanwhile, Clara shifted her focus back to them. "Can I repay you two in some way?" she asked, her tone earnest.

Roland's eyes lit up with hope. "Could you help me pay for a doctor? I really need to be well by tomorrow."

Clara winced, a guilty look crossing her face. "Ah, sorry. The thief stole the coin I had in the purse, so… I can't help with that."

Roland's brief flicker of optimism dimmed instantly.

The butler, however, stepped forward, her expression composed. "I have some coin on me. Perhaps we could at least treat you two to a meal?"

Xain quickly held up a hand, shaking his head. "No, I'm fine. You don't have to do that."

Roland echoed him, though with less conviction. "Yeah, that won't be necessary."

But Clara wasn't having it. She clasped her hands together, her eyes wide and pleading. "Please? You helped us, and I really want to repay you."

Her puppy-dog eyes were surprisingly effective. Xain felt his resolve waver.

"A-Alright, I guess I can," he relented with a sigh. "But I have some people waiting for me, so I'll tell them first before joining you. Miss…?"

"Clara," she replied with a bright smile. "Clara Ravenia."

Roland, curious, turned to the butler with a questioning look.

She gave a polite bow. "Elsa Tersia."

Before they could continue the conversation, a voice, dripping with false sweetness, rang out from behind Xain.

"Well, what are you doing, Xain?"

The saccharine tone sent a chill down his spine. He turned around slowly, eyes narrowing—and there she was. Zee, smiling that fake smile like it was etched onto her face. But it wasn't just Zee standing there.

Beside her was her twin sister.

*Wait a second…* Xain's brain lagged for a moment, struggling to register what he was seeing. His eyes darted between them, confusion and disbelief colliding in his mind.

Then it hit him.

"What!?"