“I….”
The next person to speak was Fia.
“I have nightmares.”
Thanks to Warrior Shihyun and the strongest party that had gathered, the war had ended in just five years.
Five years was a long time, yet compared to the periods recorded in history where heroes faced off against the Demon King, it was one of the shortest.
In history, wars against the Demon King sometimes lasted ten years, or even thirty.
Countless lives were lost during those times. While many of the wars weren’t thoroughly recorded amidst the chaos, evidence suggested they were no less devastating than the last.
Even so, Fia couldn’t help but think about those they failed to save.
“We saw the burned villages and cities.”
Inside the kingdom’s barrier, things were relatively safe. Only high-ranking demons and devils could penetrate it.
Yet even if a few managed to break through, the towering walls, well-trained elite soldiers, and countless weapons lined along those walls made it impossible for them to advance further.
But beyond those walls, there were still people. Villages. Cities.
When the Demon King’s forces swept through an area, it often took a century or more for peace to return. During that time, some people from the royal capital sought new lives beyond the walls.
As the tainted lands were purified, villages and cities were built anew. The kingdom actively supported these settlements, unable to leave the land idle.
The pioneers, often those who had lived as impoverished citizens in the capital, could start fresh with the kingdom’s support.
Wars didn’t burn every village and city to the ground. And many believed the Demon King wouldn’t reappear in their lifetime after one war ended. Thus, many chose to leave for these settlements.
And so, history repeated itself.
Some large cities managed to establish their own barriers, but many did not. During the Demon King’s resurgence, communication would abruptly cease, and when the kingdom’s forces arrived to reclaim them, they often found nothing but ashes.
Throughout the war, such events occurred over and over.
When the war began, orders were issued to evacuate towns and villages outside the barriers. Yet not everyone heeded the call to abandon everything and return to the capital.
Many stayed behind, unable to leave the towns or cities that had become their homes, with some even enlisting in the military to protect them.
Many of them perished or vanished.
Testimonies from captured members of the Demon King’s army gradually revealed the fates of those who had disappeared. The stories were all horrifying.
These accounts reached the kingdom and the church’s leadership, and Fia was one of those leaders.
“If I had acted a little sooner, if I had moved on my own before Shihyun came to find me, maybe I could have saved more people. Even if I couldn’t reach the towns or cities, at the very least, if I had been at the front lines…”
“And if we lost you in the process, we wouldn’t have been able to face the Demon King. I certainly wouldn’t have survived.”
Kalia’s words were true. But knowing that didn’t erase the regret over the choices made. Even Kalia harbored regret over the situations they couldn’t change.
Fia forced a faint, awkward smile at Kalia. Even someone like her, who had always hidden behind a smile, couldn’t conceal her emotions after saying all this.
“……”
Finally, Arna, who had been silent until then, opened her mouth.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“……”
At Arna’s words, the party fell silent.
In truth, Arna was one of the party members whose worldview had changed the most during the war.
While it’s said that elves naturally learn humility as they age, Arna’s transformation happened in an exceptionally short time.
The party members all knew that during her first year with them, Arna would cry silently every night.
She, who had once taken pride in participating in the war, now felt ashamed of having ever been proud of it. Her words about sleepless nights resonated deeply with the group.
It was Arna who first noticed that Shihyun wasn’t sleeping well at night. Probably because she herself was always awake during those hours.
“Hmm.”
Breaking the slightly awkward silence, Kalia spoke up.
“But, if I may guess…”
She offered a small smile as she continued.
“It seems like everyone here has been able to ease their symptoms quite a bit since crossing over to this world. Don’t you think?”
“……”
No one responded verbally, but the air suggested they agreed with her.
Of course, Kalia hadn’t wielded a sword since arriving in this world. But at the very least, she was comforted by the knowledge that those she had failed to protect still existed here. Simply being able to help them again brought her pure joy.
Dana, too, had turned her attention to this world after crossing over. While the research topic lingering in the back of her mind hadn’t disappeared, she could at least take a breath. As long as Shihyun was before her eyes, she felt she could let go of a bit of her guilt.
Fia, who had lost sleep over the anguish of knowing about the goddess and the existence of souls, had found great comfort in seeing with her own eyes that Shihyun could exist in a different body in a different world. If even those who had suffered in life could be saved through the guidance of the goddess, the weight on her heart felt a little lighter. At least, she could stop dreaming of people condemning her in her nightmares.
It was the same for Arna. The fact that she could directly help Shihyun brought a great sense of peace to her heart. After staying up all night with him, she could finally sleep soundly the next day.
“We came to help, yet it feels like we’re the ones being helped.”
Arna muttered bitterly, a faint smile on her lips.
“That’s why we need to return the favor,” Kalia said with a laugh.
She turned toward Shihyun’s room and spoke.
“So, you can come out now.”
At Kalia’s words, Arna’s bitter smile deepened. It was only then, absorbed in their conversation, that they realized the sound of water had stopped.
If they were on the battlefield, such a lapse in attention could have been dangerous…
…but this wasn’t a battlefield. Here, they were in a safe and abundant place, surrounded by comrades they could entrust with their lives.
Click.
The sound of a door opening broke the silence, and Shihyun stepped out of his room with a slightly sheepish expression.
At least, he looked far better than when his face had been streaked with tears earlier.
“Uh, well…”
Before Shihyun could muster an excuse, Kalia cut in.
“Since you’ve heard our stories…”
Her voice was calm and warm.
“…we’d like to hear yours. How you felt about coming back to this world, what struggles you’re facing now… To be honest, I can’t promise we’ll have the perfect solution for your problems. But…”
Kalia shrugged lightly and smiled.
“At the very least, we can listen and empathize. You can lean on us as much as you need to just like on the battlefield.”
Kalia’s words made the other three nod seriously in agreement.
“……”
Shihyun silently gazed at her comrades for a while, then let out a small sigh.
“…..I see.”
And she smiled.
It was a completely different face from the Shihyun they knew. Honestly, even if someone claimed she was a younger sister or an older sister, it would have been hard to believe—they looked so dissimilar.
But that smile.
That smile, at least, was exactly the same as the one they always saw from Shihyun in Irelhesia.
Not just the smile, but her mannerisms and tone of speech were just like Shihyun’s. Even though her appearance was completely different, ironically, watching her behavior made it impossible to think she wasn’t Shihyun.
…….And because they had crossed so many life-and-death situations with her, they knew it didn’t take much to recognize that she was Shihyun.
Shihyun slowly walked over and sat in an empty seat at the table.
Her hair was still slightly damp, and a towel hung around her neck, but she didn’t seem to mind at all.
Seeing her like that, Kalia, Fia, Dana, and Arna felt that Shihyun had let her guard down, at least in this place.
And they felt relieved.
At the very least, they felt they were able to provide her with some comfort. It wasn’t as if Shihyun was always the one helping them—this was proof they could give something back, even if it was just a little.
“I―”
Shihyun began to speak.
Her words flowed out somewhat disjointedly, and as she spoke, their expressions turned somber. Sometimes they grieved with her, sometimes they shared in her sadness, and sometimes they felt regret on her behalf.
It was a mood that didn’t quite suit the occasion of a birthday.
But paradoxically, because they could speak so openly in this moment, it felt more comfortable than ever.