WOSE Chapter 7

A middle-aged woman with a bold presence descended the hill with confident strides, her bright red hair—vivid as burning flames—braided loosely and tied back.

Up close, the woman barely reached Iyu's chin, yet her compact frame carried such solid strength that nothing about her suggested smallness or fragility.

"We met on the first day, at Brimund. I'm Kelgrida, leader of the dwarven race."

Before Iyu could respond, Kelgrida seized her hand and shook it vigorously.

The calloused grip felt rougher and more worn than the holy knight's hand she'd grasped just days ago. Iyu's body flinched reflexively at that familiar texture, pulling back. Kelgrida released her immediately, startled.

"Ah, I was just so glad to see you... My hands are too rough, aren't they? The dwarven race has worked as blacksmiths for generations, so our hands are never smooth. I'm sorry if I hurt you."

Kelgrida scratched the back of her head with an awkward smile. None of the usual intimidation or authoritative air expected from a race leader showed in that friendly expression.

Iyu had once loved that honest demeanor. That hearty laughter. That warm, human personality.

She'd imagined—surrounded by Kelgrida's excessive warmth and attention—that perhaps the mother she couldn't remember had been someone like this.

Indeed, Kelgrida had hidden none of her sympathy for Iyu's family circumstances. She'd willingly offered to be the outsider's mother. Whispered that she would become someone Iyu could lean on.

But those firm, warm hands had stopped reaching out once Iyu's usefulness ended. She'd been used thoroughly, then abandoned. Iyu hadn't wanted to acknowledge it until the very end, but...

If she didn't want to experience the same thing again, she couldn't avoid it—she had to face it directly. She'd been a pathetic child desperate for affection, and that's why they'd used her so easily. And now she was prepared to become the same kind of person they were.

"It didn't hurt at all. I think your hands are wonderful, actually."

Iyu hid her goosebump-covered hand behind her back, arranging her expression into something innocent and naive. She hoped the other woman would dream the foolish dream that Iyu could still be easily deceived and manipulated, just like before.

"Thank you for saying that."

Her acting must have been skillful enough—Kelgrida continued without visible suspicion.

"By the way, I heard you've been busy attending classes lately. Were you heading back to your quarters?"

"That's right."

"I thought you looked tired—I wasn't seeing things after all. I feel bad keeping you, but... would it be alright if I walked with you to your quarters?"

The ulterior motive was transparently obvious, but Iyu nodded readily.

As soon as they'd taken a few steps, Kelgrida began rattling on meaninglessly about Asgard's scenery and the difficulty of the classes.

By the time they'd descended the entire hill and reached the flower-filled meadow, she lowered her voice to broach the real subject.

"It must be hard adjusting to an unfamiliar place, right? I'm sorry. You're suffering unnecessarily because of us... I know it's selfish, but we needed the savior—no, we needed you so desperately."

Kelgrida smiled bitterly.

Iyu gazed steadily at the woman bathed in sunset light. Her slightly distorted eyes truly seemed soaked in guilt.

There had been a time when this woman drenched in red light, this woman confessing her wrongs, this woman desperately saying I need you—when all of that had felt like something warm. Now Iyu could only see her as a monster drenched in blood.

So Iyu calmly offered her own lie in return.

"I understand."

"...Don't you miss the people you left behind in your original world?"

Just like before, Kelgrida struck at Iyu's weak point.

"Family, or friends..."

Iyu thought of the mother who'd left right after giving birth, whose face she didn't even know. The terrible father who'd always made her miserable. The friends and coworkers who'd treated her like a sucker.

Looking back, she'd never had proper family, friends, or colleagues in either of her lives. Her mouth twisted at this belated realization.

But she'd already wallowed enough in self-pity on that path to the cliff. Iyu delivered the same lines as before, but with a changed heart.

"I don't have anyone. I never knew my mother's face, and my father wasn't someone I could depend on."

"...I see. I'm sorry for asking something unnecessary. It might be presumptuous, but if you don't have anyone to lean on, you can lean on me. I can't do anything grand, but I can at least be on your side."

The slow but steady footsteps finally stopped. This was the response she'd guided her toward. Proof that Iyu's acting had been excellent.

Even so, Iyu couldn't answer. Couldn't even nod. Instead, she endured this woman who was once again offering to be someone Iyu could lean on. Watched her. Thought again.

About Nidavellir, the dwarven world that would be her first pilgrimage destination. About the places and people Kelgrida truly cherished. And about how to destroy them.

After that meeting Kelgrida claimed was coincidental, she and the other race leaders began appearing before Iyu constantly, as if they'd been waiting for this moment.

Their repertoire was identical. Words of concern about the shock Iyu must have experienced from her sudden summoning and her month of seclusion. Warm consolation telling her to ask for anything she needed, that they would always be on her side.

In the past, when they'd displayed such abundant goodwill, their kindness had been amazing and bewildering—the kind she'd never experienced in her life.

But thinking back now, their intentions couldn't have been more transparent.

They wanted the savior to pull herself together quickly and save this world. Preferably visiting their own world first. For such obvious reasons, they'd fawned like tongues in mouths.

Among them, Kelgrida had been the most blatant.

Now apparently too lazy even to pretend these were coincidental meetings, she visited Iyu openly and gifted her rare tools. A pen that would never wear down, a lamp that needed no candle replacement, simple self-defense items and such.

Each time, she added sweet lies—so sweet Iyu would want to swallow them whole without distinguishing poison from medicine.

Because I worry about you. Because I want you to live more comfortably. Because I keep thinking about you.

"There's an age difference since we have different lifespans from humans, but I have a son too. When I see you, Savior, I think of him—maybe that's why I keep worrying about you."

She'd smiled like that, patting Iyu's hand with her rough palm. How could anyone not believe her, not lean on her?

'Tsk. Acting like that just because one little servant died.'

But the same person had also clicked her tongue with a cold expression.

Only an idiot would fall for the same lie twice. So rather than her heart weakening, Iyu's irritation surged. She shoved all those gifted tools into a drawer.

The longer she spent facing them and conversing with them, the more nauseating this world became. These people. She couldn't stand it.

She roughly dragged her hands down her face. She needed somewhere to escape to—or if that was impossible, she needed air.

Just then, someone tugged at her sleeve. It was Tamia, who'd noticed her master's mood sinking below ground today.

"Tami?"

Delighted just by the response, Tamia's tail curled as she gestured enthusiastically toward a table in the corner of the room. On the square table they used as a dining surface sat a picnic basket and elegantly designed teacup—she didn't know when they'd been placed there.

"...You want to go out for some air?"

The child nodded vigorously—apparently the correct answer.

Right. Better to get some cold air than wait in this room for unwelcome guests who might barge in anytime.

Having decided, Iyu roughly swept the tea set into the basket and left with Tamia. The disorganized snacks and teacups rattled noisily.

Tamia glanced repeatedly at the basket in Iyu's hand, worried the expensive teacups might break, but soon began leading the way energetically.

They arrived at a wild flower field located opposite Iyu's residence and Brimund. The space where weeds, grass, and flowers grew together in chaos looked quite messy, but she liked that it was rarely visited.

Iyu plopped down roughly on the blanket Tamia had spread. Having Tamia sit beside her seemed to improve her mood somewhat.

But only somewhat.

The quietly undulating peaceful meadow. The soft breeze that lingered on her cheeks before leaving. The high blue sky without a single cloud. The modest flowers blooming delicately.

She'd once revered this heavenly scenery. Had even felt responsibility knowing she alone could save this beautiful world.

But now, even if this place became a sea of fire before her eyes, she felt she wouldn't blink once.

Something must have broken badly during that moment falling below the cliff.

Still, this peaceful time after so long wasn't entirely unpleasant, so Iyu willingly enjoyed the quiet. Or rather, tried to enjoy it.

If not for the rustling sounds coming from the stout tree above the blanket.

The moment she tilted her head back, she locked eyes with someone familiar. On a branch at roughly twice her height, Kalix sat at an angle.