69 - Amor Clarus

A Royal Guard discreetly arrived and handed Van the contract, as per Nickelson's orders. He then informed Marcy that it had been decided Varlog and Yilla would remain here. Given Marcy's formidable reputation in the Capital, no one would dare challenge the decision, or her. Reluctantly, she agreed.

By nightfall, the Royal Guard had left. Van returned to the room prepared for him and handed back Marcy's armor, despite her earlier permission for him to keep it. She accepted his gesture without much fuss. After refreshing himself, Van descended to the now-empty guild hall.

"Funny how the same guy who gave you your house contract is the one relaying my 'orders'... Got anything to say about that?" Marcy asked, sitting across from Van at a table.

"No," Van replied curtly, staring at the mug of ale she'd poured for him earlier.

"Wow, not even gonna pretend you're hiding something?" she teased, letting out a small chuckle.

"I reckon you've got secrets of your own. This one's mine," Van shot back, his tone sharp. Marcy sighed, exasperated.

"Ahhh...!! You're so tense! I can barely handle it when that ice bitch does it, don't give me that attitude!" she groaned, taking a long sip from her mug and leaning back in her chair.

"...Or what?" Van asked, his gaze lifting with a frown.

"...Or what?" she echoed, startled by the sudden intensity. "I'm just trying to make conversation..." she mumbled, turning her eyes away.

A minute of silence followed. Van sat unmoving, still not drinking from his mug.

'How long has it been since Marcy and I last sat together like this?' Van thought. 'Back when my resistance was low and I could still get drunk... before Amoria joined us. In those early days, whenever we stayed at an inn, I'd go to the bars—a lot. Maybe it was guilt over agreeing to manipulate the girls in order to stop the demon lord, or maybe it was just jealousy and loneliness. Either way, drinking gave me relief. As my resistance stat grew, it became harder to get drunk... but not impossible.'

'Not long after I started hitting the taverns, Marcy joined me—usually when that harem bastard was too tired or off training alone; a new hobby he made for himself the more we were on the road,' Van reflected.

'At first, meeting her at the tavern was just a coincidence... and awkward. Sometimes we'd sit next to each other, other times on opposite sides of the place. There were nights when I'd drink outside, avoiding the whole situation—to distance myself, like I always did, to escape that frustration and awkwardness that seemed to come with every evening. But eventually, it became routine. Before long, she'd be commenting on how I was late if I didn't arrive at the tavern before her. During our travels, she always kept a tough exterior, but at night, she was different—freer, almost like a completely different person. She treated me like a little brother, constantly. She was... a happy drinker, and surprisingly, it was fun. Drinking with someone like her made it easier to forget my problems, especially with the alcohol numbing everything.'

Marcy glanced at Van's blank expression.

"I invited you to drink, so drink up," she said.

'But now... I feel that awkwardness again. That urge to step outside, to be anywhere but here with her. And this time, I don't think it's something that'll get better. Why does it feel like this?'

"Neither of us can get drunk," Van replied flatly, his eyes still fixed on the untouched mug, shoulders tense.

"I can... if I drink about four barrels non-stop," she said, sighing. "But the buzz disappears after a few minutes. It's a real pain," she added, taking a sip from her mug.

"Are we planning to drink four barrels, then?" Van asked, raising an eyebrow with a hint of curiosity, though his tone was clearly rhetorical.

"A shipment of alcohol's coming in tomorrow. We just might," Marcy replied, looking away as she scratched her head. Another minute of silence passed.

"'Or what,' he says," Marcy muttered with a chuckle, still avoiding his gaze as she took another sip.

Van inhaled deeply, his shoulders tensing further.

"... You got a problem with that?" Van replied flatly, turning his gaze back to her, causing her eyebrows to shoot up as she snapped her head toward him, recalling their previous argument.

"Ah, so that's why you have a stick up your ass?" she said. "You're pissed because I told you to stay the hell out of my business with raising my daughter?" Van's fingers twitched at the memory.

"No," he replied immediately. "You were right then. I was overstepping. She's your daughter, and I have no business with either of you. Rest assured." His eyes dropped to the mug. "It's common sense. I'm not angry,"

"Tsk," Marcy clicked her tongue, her breath quickening at his words, especially his claim of having 'no business' with them. "Fuck me, you're always so... sensitive. I get it. Especially with what you've been through. But do you even realize what was happening?" She leaned in, trying to catch his eyes, her expression softening. "There was a Mythical-level threat, and I was kinda stressed, considering I also had to deal with it."

"Doesn't change the fact that you were right. You don't need to explain yourself for stating common sense," Van said, his detached tone causing Marcy's agitation to spike as she bit her lip.

"Look, I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, but, again... I really was stressed, and—"

"You didn't hurt anything. You just stated a fact. We're not related, so there's nothing more to say."

"Just why the fuck are you like this?" Marcy clenched her fist around the mug, her face twisting in frustration.

"We've been together for four years..." She looked at him, frowning. "I get that maybe it doesn't seem like a lot, but... come on, I thought we were closer than that." She leaned back, her voice softening. "We fought side by side, you've died for m—... for us more times than I can count. And I can't even remember how many times we got shitfaced together in taverns when we had some downtime."

Van stayed silent, anger rising from his gut. 'She puts so much effort into her words, into me... Why does that make me so mad?' he thought, tightening his fingers beneath the table.

"Just... throw me a bone here," she said, her voice faltering as she looked away again. "We're not some stuck-up nobles arguing over land... Can't we just drink, pretend to get drunk like we used to? Aren't we friends? Former party members? Don't talk to me like we're strangers all of a sudden..." Her gaze dropped.

"Seeing you again... It's like... he's alive, you know?" She raised her eyes to Van, who felt another surge of rage clawing at him.

"I get it. You probably left feeling like shit. I'd understand if you hated him. No hard feelings or anything... But... I just miss him. So... just drink with me." She looked at Van, who sat rigid, barely holding on to his stoicism as his anger roiled inside.

"Y-you know..." She hesitated, her voice dropping, "We've got the whole tavern to ourselves, and a protective seal's been placed on the demons' room, so no one can hear us... So... if you want... we could do something... more." Her words slowed as she leaned forward, her eyes softening.

Van's breath hitched. Her gaze locked with his, and his face paled, eyes widening. His fists clenched tighter... and tighter... and tighter.

Without realizing it, he applied more force than when he'd slashed Lilac. The air around his palm began to warp as he hid it beneath the table. His expression faltered, a deep frown appearing in his eyes as he turned his head away.

"If it's with you... I... I wouldn't mind..." she whispered.

"Stop..." Van's voice was low, almost a whisper, as he slowly began to pull away, dragging the chair backward.

"I... I don't want to," she said softly, her voice thick with emotion. "Honestly... if Magus weren't around, if he didn't exist... I don't think you'd lose to him one bit, you know?" she murmured, leaning in even closer. Her body moved seductively toward him, climbing onto the table, her shirt barely containing her large bosom.

Van clenched his teeth, his once blank, nervous gaze igniting into a burning glare. "I SAID STOP!" he growled, his voice sharp and commanding.

Marcy recoiled slightly, taken aback by the sudden intensity in his eyes. She had never seen him like this before—stoic, helmet-headed Van, always so controlled. The thought hit her suddenly...

... Has he always had this expression beneath the helmet?

"Van..." Her tone softened, and she reached out for him. But Van pushed her hand away, wordlessly.

"I need air," he muttered, his face unreadable as he stood abruptly, storming out of the guild.

"W-wait! I-I'm sorry!" Marcy called after him, but Van was already gone, his heavy footsteps echoing through the empty streets as he hurried away, leaving her confused and alone.

'Alicia was right,' Van thought bitterly as he walked under the moonlit sky, his mind churning. 'I'm not a good person at all. The reason I got angry... was because I hated that Marcy's doing this now... instead of back then.'

Van's fists clenched tighter as his pace quickened. '... Instead of before I met Alicia.'

He paused, staring up at the moon. 'What does Alicia even see in me? Is Varlog right? Is this all just some fleeting infatuation? Do I have to constantly manipulate my way into her heart because there's nothing real or redeeming about me?'

His jaw tightened as another bitter thought surfaced. 'Yeah... That makes sense, doesn't it? When Marcy offered herself... for just a second, I thought... Damn... what a shame I'm already married.'

His fists trembled as the gnawing truth clawed at him. 'I'm worse than Magus. The only difference is... I don't have his harem skills.'

'Yeah...' Van lowered his gaze, his expression darkening. 'It's time to end this charade. This make-believe relationship with them. Whatever this dragon threat is, I don't need their cooperation. I can face the Dragon King alone.' Determined, Van strolled through the dead of night toward Amoria's house, his expression grim as he knocked audibly on her door.

'I'll be true to what I am... And crush her world all over again.' He resolved.

Moments later, Amoria opened the door, her nightgown draped over her as she blinked at him in surprise. "Ah... Van! Is there something you need...? Maybe..." Her lips curled into a mischievous grin. "You poor little boy, did you miss your mommy and decide to—"

"Amoria," Van interrupted sharply, standing at the threshold. His voice was abrupt, cutting her off.

'It's time to end this. End everything,' Van thought, his heart pounding, a mixture of excitement and fear swirling inside him. Doubt crept into his mind—visions of Amoria turning hostile, the whole world against him.

But none of that mattered anymore. He had made a decision. He would never be the man who hesitated and left things unfinished.

He wasn't that person anymore.

Whatever he had come here to do... he would see it through.

"I need to tell you something," Van said, stepping closer, expecting her to back away. But she stood her ground, lifting her chin as curiosity filled her gaze. His heart faltered for a moment, uncertainty flashing through him, but he quickly tightened his fist again.

"Yes...?" she whispered softly, gazing into his eyes, which brimmed with ill intent.

As Van stood at Amoria's doorstep, the weight of his decision bore down on him, his heart pounding. Doubt flickered, old shadows clouding his thoughts. He clenched his fist, knuckles white, trying to steady his breath, but each inhale felt heavier than the last.

"You've been brainwashed by Magus," Van began, his voice low, controlled. "To love him. To cheat on me. You—and every other woman he's ever crossed paths with—were enchanted by his mind-controlling passives. It didn't matter who you were; no woman could resist him. Those passives... were bestowed upon him by the very goddess you worship." He paused, his words like stones falling into place. "So, none of this was your fault to begin with."

Every word was deliberate. There was no fantasy, no illusion—this was real. "And I knew. I knew the whole time... and I never said a word." He finished, his eyes locked on hers, searching for that horrified reaction he had envisioned so many times. He waited for her to recoil, to scream, to push him away. Maybe she would even attack him.

She had every reason to.

'Do it. End this!' Van screamed inwardly, his gaze intensifying as the silence between them stretched. His lungs refused to take in air, every muscle in his body tensing as he stared into Amoria's eyes, expecting the reaction that had replayed in his mind endlessly. His throat tightened, the words he had rehearsed over and over now hanging in the stillness.

His eyes flicked across her face, waiting for the anger, the rejection—anything to make it easier for him to walk away...

"I..." Amoria's voice broke the silence, soft and steady. She gave him a somber smile. "I know, Vanny." She gently patted his hand.

All the air left his body, his muscles loosening in an instant.

Instead of the anger and confusion she had every right to release—the rage Van fully expected to erupt and crash down on him—Amoria simply smiled softly. The tension in him snapped, confusion quickly flooding the space where his expectations once stood.

"W-what...?" Van murmured, his voice barely audible as his intense gaze wavered. He had braced for her to back away, to lash out. But instead, she stepped closer.

"Do you want to come in?" she asked gently, her voice calm as she opened the door wider. "I've got some tea already brewed." The light from the moon bathed her living room in a soft glow.