[Prologue] The One Who Stares Behind the Window

Gerhart was supposed to become a father today.

Yet somehow, the only thing worse than seeing him lose his entire family in a single afternoon was seeing the exact scene play out eleven times.

The first time, I cried harder than he did. Seeing the stoic, unmovable knight clutching the lifeless body of his wife broke me. Broke me so much that I went back in time just to stop it from happening.

But no matter which decision I changed or path I took, it all seemed to inevitably lead to this point—Winika’s death. And now, on the eleventh attempt, I finally felt nothing. Even with the visceral cut leaking red out of her pregnant belly, I was indifferent. Bored, even.

But I couldn’t tell Gerhart that for obvious reasons. And even if I did, it’s not like he’d feel any better. So this time, I did something different.

This time, I decided to act as if I weren’t there.

I stood there in his bedroom, the corpses of the Horned Assassins lying near my feet, demon blood seeping into the gaps between the floorboards. The thick black ichor gave off a sour, stabbing odor that I could never get used to, something between acid and alcohol. Coupled with the window being wide open, a sudden gush of wind catapulted that vile smell from the floor right into my nostrils. At the very least, it was a beautiful day outside.

Which made it all the more worse for Gerhart. His wife, murdered in broad daylight in the comfort of their home. The city outside the window carried on as usual, the commonfolk going about their daily lives, the world oblivious to his suffering. The sun’s rays fell harshly over his head, cutting an angle that cast a sullen shadow over his face.

Yet, the pain carved on his face was clear for me to see, almost like a sculpture. His golden hair shimmering under the light. His sorrow brimming from the way he cradled his wife, trying to comfort her through his uncomfortable suit of armor. It was as if she was still sleeping. If only she was.

Tears flowed down his weary face, staining the shine of his breastplate. I only just realized that this was the first time his armor got dirty. In all the battles we fought together, never once did his guard break.

But now, he was more vulnerable than ever. A part of me actually felt relieved knowing he was human.

Slowly, he raised his chin. His swollen, gemstone green eyes gazed at me, shivering in disbelief. It was as if the situation was so impossible that he expected some sort of response from me just to snap him back to reality. Trust me, I was there before. And there was nothing I could do to bring his wife back. Or his daughter.

Knowing the song and dance that was about to play out once more, I couldn’t be arsed to show a reaction this time. I just stared at him. We weren’t too different, actually. He lost everything. I lost four hours of my life trying to alter this sequence of events. I’d consider us even.

Realizing he would find no solace in me, he turned back to Winika. This time, his gauntlets gently held her engorged abdomen. Warm blood oozed into the folds of his cold, metal fingers. Maybe he was hoping his daughter was still there, hiding somewhere within the womb. But with a hole of that size, whichever bloodied blade on the floor right now that disemboweled the mother must’ve also taken the life of the daughter.

I waited, hiding my impatience as Gerhart quietly mourned the loss of his family.

And as if on cue, the bedroom door flung open. I didn’t even bother to turn my head as Roderiqua burst in, panting with one hand against the door frame and the other holding her staff.

“G-G-Gerhart…” she muttered exactly like how I heard it the last ten times.

And like me, Gerhart paid her no heed. For all the magical prowess she had, we knew resurrection was beyond her. I remembered the first time I yelled at her, demanding her to do her job and heal Winika. She was a priestess after all. But she was no god. Expecting her to do her god’s work would be asking too much.

And like clockwork, her sympathetic expression quickly warped to fury. Her eyebrows creased even more, looking like two blades jutting out above her eyes. Her cheeks contorted, teeth gnashing as if she was the one who lost her family.

“I swear, for as long as I draw breath, I—”

Will send every single demon back into the Frozen Hells!

I finished the rest of her sentence in my head. If I wasn’t careful, I might even start quoting her dramatic declaration from time to time.

“...And?” Gerhart finally broke his silence, his deep, booming voice sounding more like sandpaper. It was like the rest of his words were stuck in his throat. “Would that bring them back?”

“It’ll give them peace,” Roderiqua reassured, her face softening slightly.

Gerhart sighed. His neck arched back, looking up to the ceiling. Looking up to find something that wasn’t there.

“You divined the birth of my daughter. Yet you couldn’t even foresee her death on the very same day,” his defeated gaze returned to the priestess. He was at his breaking point.

“I’m truly sorry, but I could only see the creation of life. When it is taken, it is not in my purview,” Roderiqua’s voice shifted from an empathetic girl to a righteous zealot. “Your anger should be directed at the enemy.”

“You know, Winika never liked fighting.”

Yes I know, Gerhart. You told me that eleven times already.

He continued, “She always thought that we could find peace with the demons through words.” The way his voice quivered, it was like he was trying to burn his memories of her into her mind, some inevitably slipping through the cracks.

“A line of thought befitting of her as a noble,” the priestess concurred. “And yet, it was she who was punished. The innocent. Not us, the ones who bloody our hands with demon blood.”

She knelt beside Gerhart, placing her hand over his wife as she said a silent prayer. After the hushed murmurs, she faced the widower once more.

“Lady Winika wasn’t wrong. I know it seems unfair, but this is a test only the strong partake.”

“A…test?” Gerhart slowly turned his head, his voice on the verge of snapping like a taut rope.

“Sir!”

An unfamiliar voice in the room made goosebumps crawl all over my skin. One of Gerhart’s men had just entered the room.

This has never happened before.

The soldier was briefly stunned by the bloodshed in the bedroom, before continuing, “We found your daughter!”

Gerhart’s eyes widened. Without a moment’s hesitation, he rushed out of the room. The unexpected turn of events caused my heart to swell in anticipation. I followed the knight, wondering what I did differently to trigger this new route.

The soldier explained as we ran down the stairs, “They’re in the cellar! The midwife is wounded, but she has your daughter.”

“Is Amari safe?! Tell me, is my daughter safe?!”

But before the soldier could answer, the cry of an infant filled the space around us. It was weak, but I’ve never heard a clearer sound in my life.

Gerhart pushed through his men, forcing his way into the cellar where the cries came from. Roderiqua and I quickly caught up, ignoring the musty scent that welcomed us as we entered the dark, cavernous basement. Blood trailed along the cold stone floor, leading us to our destination.

Hiding in an empty undercroft, the midwife held the baby in her arms, whispering words of comfort to the newborn even as she sat in a puddle of her own blood. Gerhart rushed to her side, almost knocking down the soldier who was tending to her wounds.

“Forgive me, Sir…the lady, she…”

“I know,” the knight replied as he took his child from her arms.

“...The lady made me cut her open to save her baby. Please, forgive me!”

“Hush,” Roderiqua said as she placed her palm on the midwife’s shoulder, a yellow light radiating from her hand, lighting up the whole cellar. “Save your voice. You’ve done admirably.”

Even though the priestess was healing the midwife, it was Gerhart who looked like life had returned into him. Safe within his embrace was his daughter. His everything.

As Amari stopped crying, her tiny eyes opened. At that moment, it was as if all of Gerhart’s pain had been cleansed from him. Winika’s death left a hole in his heart, but within it, a feeble, yet unmistakable glow of light filled the missing void.

I wasn’t sure what caused his daughter to survive this time, but I was certain of one thing:

This damn game didn’t give enough save slots.