Chapter 9 - Frustrated

The cool water dripped from my hair as I sat on the edge of my bed, rubbing a towel over my damp skin. There wasn't a bathroom here, really, only a simple 'tub' that I could stand in and wash myself down with water from a bucket. Still, it was more than nothing. I watched with a tired sigh as the dim glow of the candle on my bedside table flickered, casting simple shadows against the featureless walls of my tiny room. It wasn't that different from my old apartment, really. Remembering that life, another deep sigh escaped my lips as exhaustion threatened to drag me under, my muscles aching from a long day of running errands and dealing with the Syndicate's orders.

The upside was that at least here, even if I now worked for the local mafia, at least I had my nights. I mean, I had time for myself. They were less forceful than my old job, not demanding overtime, and while working with them, they helped out. They treated me as part of their family more and more, and I felt it. So... it wasn't bad. I didn't feel I was being used. Which didn't mean I wasn't keeping an eye out. I knew the tactics; it could be only a ruse, and if it turned out it was just a honeymoon phase, I would be ready. Thinking about it, I was about to lay down, but...

There was a knock on my door.

It was soft at first, hesitant, making me question if I imagined it. My head jerked up, eyes narrowing toward the door, waiting to hear it again. My instincts sharpened instantly, and the sudden images of the bandit attack where my young version died flashed by me. No one should be visiting me this late. Had something happened? Had the Guild caught onto something? Or worse—was this Syndicate business? Was I right? Reaching for the knife I kept tucked beneath my pillow, I stood cautiously, my bare feet carrying me silently across the wooden floor as I approached the door.

Then, another knock, just as uncertain.

Taking a deep breath, I pulled it open, the blade hidden in my palm behind my back, only to find Lira standing there.

She was flushed, whether from anger or from the cold night air... or something else, I couldn't tell. Her hair was slightly tousled, her breath a bit uneven, as if she had been running. But more than that, it was the look in her eyes that caught me off guard. I knew those feelings; I saw them in the mirror many times. They were the mix of frustration, hurt, and something else I couldn't quite place. No... I could remember them. I just never acknowledged them to myself. It was hopelessness.

"Uh..." she started, clearly realizing how bold a move she had just made by coming up to a man's home all alone in the middle of the night. I don't know how things were in this world, but...

"Lira?" I muttered, lowering my guard. "It's past midnight. What are you doing here?"

"I..." She fidgeted slightly, her fingers curling into the fabric of her cloak, raising up one, twirling a strand of her hair. "I—" She hesitated again, then glanced over her shoulder as if checking to see if she was being followed. "I just… needed to get away for a while."

"Don't we all...?" I muttered as I exhaled through my nose, already feeling the walls around my heart trying to slam shut. I didn't want to get involved in someone else's mess. Not again.

I had a lifetime's worth of regret teaching me that kindness was just another way to be taken advantage of. People only came knocking when they wanted something, and when they got it, they'd disappear like it never happened. Maybe that was unfair. Maybe she really did just need a place to breathe. But did that make it my problem?

"Look, Lira," I said, my voice softer now, measured. "If you're in trouble, I—"

"I'm not in trouble," she interrupted, but the way she said it told me she was lying. Or maybe she was lying to herself.

I clenched my jaw, hearing her tone, debating it for another beat. She was breathing a little too fast and standing a little too stiffly. Then I saw it in her eyes that my tone hurt her. Damn it... I don't know how to feel about that... She had clearly been arguing with someone—her parents, most likely. I hesitated, still torn between sending her away and giving in to the part of me that still hadn't learned to shut the door on people who needed help. Then, with a quiet sigh, I stepped aside.

"Come in," I muttered, stepping aside. But I swore this would be the last time... if it turns out she is about to ask for stuff just because she has a cute smile, I'll throw her out! But then I realized that I was back to my old habits. Fuck.

I watched as Lira blinked her eyes in quick succession as if surprised that I'd actually agreed. Then, with a nod, she slipped inside. The moment I shut the door behind her, she let out a long breath, visibly relaxing as she took in the small, dimly lit room. Compared to the chaos of her home, it was probably unnervingly quiet.

"Sorry," she said softly, still lingering near the door. "I know this is… weird. I shouldn't have come. I just... had no other idea..."

"It's fine," I said, tossing my towel onto a chair. "Just… sit down, I guess."

She hesitated before stepping further in, perching herself on the edge of the only chair in the room. Her hands rested in her lap, twisting her fingers together, still nervous. I couldn't blame her. For a few moments, neither of us spoke, but then, she let out a sharp sigh, probably taking my silence as me waiting for her explanation of what she was doing here.

"I had another fight with my parents."

"Mhm." I nodded, and I could have guessed as much. "Bad one?"

"Yeah..." She let out a dry chuckle. "Aren't they always bad?"

"Most of the time, yes." I sat down on the bed, leaning forward, forearms resting on my knees. "What was it about this time? I know that look, this isn't the first it happened, is it?"

"No, it isn't." She nodded and hesitated a little. "You, actually."

"What?" I raised an eyebrow in honest surprise. "Me?"

"Uhum." She nodded, rubbing her arms. "They don't want me getting involved with someone from the... Your group. Too dangerous, they say. Too unpredictable. The usual."

"They say?" I scoffed, a deep sarcasm laced into my voice. "And yet they work with the Crowfoot Gang."

"Exactly!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up, her voice surprisingly loud. "It's so damn hypocritical! My father has been relying on them for years, thanks to his damn potion addiction. My mother was an adventurer, of all things, running with mercenaries who did the nobles' dirty work outside of the city walls or inside their bedrooms... But suddenly, I'm the one making bad choices?!"

"Oh?" I leaned back slightly. "Your mother was an adventurer?" I never heard of that side of the story. I knew that her father was an addict; it was something that the gang was using as leverage, moving goods through them, washing money, the usual.

"She was a silver-tier one." Lira huffed, crossing her arms. "Yeah. You wouldn't know it now, looking at her, but she used to be part of a mercenary group. You've heard of them, right? The adventurer bands?"

"I know of the Guild." I nodded, although I no longer wore my bracelet, not since getting into the Crows.

"Yeah." She nodded her head. "Them. I'm talking about the real mercenary groups—the ones who aren't just running errands for the townsfolk, doing the missions on their boards. She was one of the ones who got hired by kings and nobles through the Guild to handle real missions that were off the record."

"Off the... record?" I frowned. "Like what?"

"Usually, this is stuff that could be a diplomatic nightmare if done officially. But the Guild and its adventurer groups operate across all the kingdoms. They have no real affiliation, so others can't. blame one exact kingdom and entice a war." Lira's expression darkened slightly as she explained.

"Other kingdoms? Like?" I asked, now really curious.

"The elves."

"Oh?" I blinked. "What about them?"

"Well..." She sighed, leaning forward. "Look, I don't know much, only what my mother told me here and there. I also don't know about this kingdom or its history as deeply as a scholar would, but... What I do know is that the elves hate us. They hate all of us—humans, dwarves, even the beast folk tribes. They think we're lesser, that we're little more than vermin scurrying around their lands, taking it from them."

I stayed quiet, letting her continue. Well, what I gathered was that humans were the most numerous... so if the elves were here before us, we may have taken their land. That would not be surprising.

"There have been wars," she went on, "but never outright crusades, not for the past 500 years. It's all done in shadows, through adventurer groups, assassins, and 'deniable assets.' That's what my parents, especially my mother, was part of—one of the bands hired to handle 'elven issues,' so the king's hands could stay clean."

"Not bad..." I whistled as it sank in, thinking I was greatly underestimating her... I would have never guessed. "Lira, you're saying the kingdoms are still fighting, just not openly?" I asked, blinking my eyes. It wasn't bad to learn a bit about the politics of this world...

"Exactly," she nodded. "It's all quiet wars now. Skirmishes in the forests, ambushes in the mountains. The elves have their own warriors—spell-slinging fanatics who think they're purging the world of filth! I heard they guard their remaining territories, killing anything that isn't an elf! So the human rulers send people like my mother after them."

"Why?"

"Resources. What else?" She chuckled as if I asked a stupid question.

"Oh... yeah, yeah. Sorry. I'm tired..." I exhaled slowly, scratching my cheeks. Of course, what else? So, to not look like an idiot, I quickly asked another question. "And your father?"

"He..." Her jaw tightened. "A potions addict. He used to be a decent man... I think... When I was little... but… now? He's a drunkard. He owes your gang too much, and if it weren't for the bakery and your friends, we'd have lost everything already."

Silence stretched between us. Somehow... I expected her to hate me for the fact that I was working for the gang... but no. I felt her anger directed towards her father.

"Look..." Finally, I said, "That's a lot to unload at midnight."

"I... I know!" She let out a soft, dry laugh. "Yeah. Sorry... I shouldn't have come here."

"What is done is done." I shook my head. "Don't be sorry; I let you in after all. I just… didn't expect to get a history lesson tonight."

"Ehehe..." She gave me a small, tired smile. "Well, now you know. That's the world we live in. And I—" She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I don't want to be trapped in their mess forever. Especially because it is a mess my parents made, and now it seems like I am inheriting it. It... it is frustrating..." she sniffled.

I understood that feeling far too well.

"You should get some sleep," I muttered, remembering how it can feel. "You can stay here if you need to. Just take the chair or the floor."

"Not the bed?" She blinked, surprised.

I didn't respond at first, but then again, I wasn't going to put myself at a disadvantage, not even if I knew how she felt. I just blew out the candle, letting the room sink into darkness.

"If you want. But it is my bed."

I said as I laid back down, closing my eyes.

Yet, as I drifted into sleep... I heard her climbing up to the bed... right next to me.