Crumbling of the Steps

My whole upper body felt sore when I woke up the next day. The training seemed to have done something, but my right leg was in a bit of pain.

I yawned. “I should avoid training with my spear today.”

It was already the fifth day since I woke from my long slumber.

Although I thought it was better to avoid straining my muscles two days in a row, it was no better to stay stuck inside.

If I skipped going out, I would sink back into that pitiful state, plunging into the bottomless sea of sorrow. Something I had to avoid at all costs.

The village still had many mysteries to unveil. I needed to explore more of it. But I was still scared of the people’s gaze.

I was afraid of the people in my hometown. How would I be fine with people from an unknown village in the middle of an unknown world?

I left that decision for “future me” and turned to the warm bowl by the fireplace.

The elderly man had already left. Like always, he was never here when I woke up.

I didn’t know what he did, but he only came back to feed me and to rest at night, working the rest of the day.

I indulged myself in the tasteful soup.

We were in plain summer, but the warmth of the Old Man’s meals felt comforting. It warmed me to the core. It felt like the soothing touch of a supportive hand. An amicable welcome, the reassurance I so wanted to have.

A tear slipped silently to the floor.

Droplets raced each other down the window, stopping, curving, then rushing to the end.

Meanwhile, I was lost in thought.

I wasn’t thinking of anything in particular, or anything at all for that matter. I just watched the light waver through the droplets. It had rained.

“I still have to ask the Old Man what ‘Ru’ means,” I reflected as I sipped the remaining soup.

I got up and put my clothes on, including my new cloak. My shirt felt slightly cold. It wasn’t fully dried yet.

I skipped my morning meditation. Today, I wanted to attempt controlling mana while walking outside.

It was a step down from the spear training with mana I had envisioned, but I needed to be able to focus on my surroundings while training my mana handling before taking the next step.

Fearful, I reluctantly opened the door.

Today I was going to head right into the heart of town.

The air was chillier than usual. It was still morning. The temperature was likely going to rise later on.

Plink… plink… plink… The raindrops ticked as they slipped from the roof onto a puddle, like a heart-soothing melody.

There weren’t many people out and about in the village streets. I was certain to find some at the centre square, but these roads felt lonely and quiet.

I began heading up to the right while attempting to control the mana inside and outside me.

It was fairly challenging.

I either overthought it and stopped walking or focused too much on continuing forward and forgot the mana altogether. Whenever I steadied the flow, my feet had already halted.

It was as if I was trying to do two things opposite of each other simultaneously.

It reminded me of my many attempts to draw a square in the air with my left hand while drawing a triangle with my right.

It wasn’t intuitive at all.

It took a while before I was able to sluggishly do it.

It felt as if I was leaving my body. The person walking wasn’t me anymore. I was just controlling its movements.

When I came to myself, the town’s bustling noises had already surrounded me.

I was at the entrance of the open space I saw up on the hill.

Despite my initial terror, people were too busy to bat an eye at me. They had their own jobs to do.

Blacksmiths, woodworkers, tailors, tanners and bakers crowded the square.

The village was way more than the market to the west.

There were small shoemaker stalls, as well as a gorgeous building with stained glass panels. Peeking through the window, it seemed like an apothecary. This was probably where the Old Man got the ointment he used on me from.

There were benches and patches of grass at the centre, like a small park place to socialise.

But something else jumped to my attention.

A sturdy, wooden tower with a cobblestone base imposed on the view like a huge monument. It had a large, heavy-looking bell at the top and a ladder opposite of the village gate.

I hadn’t heard the bell ring once since I came here.

Looking at the people, women wore dresses or skirts with corsets and blouses. Men had overalls or trousers with shirts and jackets.

Everything felt so normal.

Frustration gripped my heart, pulsating in unison.

Was Yrish the only one who deserved to be treated wrong?

I didn’t understand at all.

Beyond the village’s normality there had to be something else. It didn’t make sense.

But I didn’t let it get to me too much. There was no point in reopening a healing wound.

I lost control over mana for a few seconds. Ridding myself of those troublesome thoughts, I refocused on my training.

Small wooden carts and bigger carriages were parked near the gate.

Odd-looking creatures ate what looked like hay, separated by a fence gate from the square.

Their skin was rough, and two horns sprouted from the middle of their heads, a bigger one below the smaller one. They were slim and tall, grunting and banging their back foot on the ground as people passed by.

When I stopped to glance around again, I noticed there were no children outside.

I counted on my fingers for a second. Today was meant to be a Tuesday.

Was there a school here? They probably did have one.

There were still places I hadn’t seen and wanted to explore, but it was already noon.

People were already closing their shops for lunch and heading home. Though curiosity pulled me forward, it was time to leave this side of the village behind for now.

I slowly strolled back home.

This time, the villagers’ eyes on my back felt sharper. I quickened my pace, keeping my eyes ahead. I was too aware of my surroundings to focus on training mana right now.

Opening the house door, the aroma of the Old Man’s cooking reached my nose. He greeted me with a welcoming smile and set the two bowls next to the fire.

Looking at the bowls, I couldn’t keep up my expression for longer.

I had been trying to avoid remembering. I had been trying to avoid crying. But I couldn’t hold on much more.

I began sobbing.

I covered my face with my hand and pulled down on the cloak’s hood.

I wanted to hide.

I was so weak.

Why couldn’t I get over her death already?

We had only been together for just over a week.

“It-it doesn’t make any sense!” I murmured.

My tears wouldn’t stop.

The Old Man got up. Putting his hand on my back, he led me to the fireplace and sat me down.

His heartwarming smile told me to eat up, and that’s what I did.

I dug in, gulping it slowly.

This time he had also brought some loaves of bread, or at least something similar to what we had in my old world, and gave me one.

I pulled apart small chunks and dipped them in the soup before eating them.

The elderly gentleman seemed surprised with my actions. It likely wasn’t common to dip the bread in the soup, but he curiously gave it a try and looked unexpectedly pleased, copying me and finishing the bread the same way.

When I calmed down, I remembered the question I wanted to ask him.

“Is… ‘Ru’ …” I said, spacing the words and ending on a nod. “‘Ru’,” I repeated, nodding once again.

The Old Man smiled and nodded in agreement.

I now knew for certain that not only did “Ru” mean “yes” in their language, but also that this village was indeed “Tristte”. It wasn’t much, but it left me feeling lighter.

When we both finished eating, he stored the bowls and left the house with a smile. I followed shortly after.

Outside, the heat pressed down harder, and the villagers’ conversations swelled.

It was even more challenging to focus on mana handling now. Nonetheless, I continued to give it my best shot.

I headed once again to the town square, but this time I took another right turn, leading me to what I recalled being the village plantations.

There were mostly houses this way, but I also spotted some bigger shops.

I walked along the barrier separating the path from the field, letting my fingers trail over each wooden pole. The rhythmic taps numbed my fingers, each hollow contact echoing.

All the fruits and vegetables seemed new to me.

Beyond them, I noticed animals that looked like sheep at first, but jagged horns jutted from their heads, and their hind legs bulged larger than the front.

After walking some more, I decided to stop in front of one of the largest buildings.

It featured large arched windows and intricate woodwork frames and casing.

This was the first shop that had a sign outside in addition to its name inscribed above the entrance.

I peered through the window, but the sunlight reflected in a way that made it difficult to see inside. Cupping my hands above my eyes to create shade, I saw someone waiting by the counter.

Further into the store, another person sat on the floor with a thicker type of brush…

Holding its rounded end…

Pressed into their palm, all fingers wrapped around it…

They were writing on a piece of paper…

My mana control halted.

Tears welled up.

My heartbeat sped up, frantic play of the piano.

My legs began trembling, forcing me backwards onto the floor.

“I-I need to see their faces,” I gasped. “I have to get-get back up again.”

Struggling, I slowly approached the window again.

I focused once again on the person in the back. I needed to see their face.

That smugness over those frail traits.

It was Yrish’s mother.

“I want to puke…” I spewed quickly before collapsing to my knees, vomiting on the ground.

I could hear the strings snapping, one by one, inside the frame.

“I can’t… I didn’t want to-to see them again,” I stuttered, quivering. “No… no… not them.”

Vomit burned my mouth once more.

I gasped loudly for air.

I managed to push myself back up and run.

“Why are they… Why are they happy… Why…?” I screamed, tears blurring my vision.

People stared, wide-eyed with fear.

I just kept running.

My leg clenched in pain, but I ran.

I couldn’t stop. There was no way I was going to stop.

Tears kept flooding my eyes.

“Why was she happy?” I screamed. “Why?”

I gasped.

I wheezed.

I kept running.

I got home and immediately jumped into my bed.

I wanted to puke again but forced it down.

Now I understood why Yrish was able to write.

I laughed in dismay.

“Her parents must be the only ones who know how to write. Nobody in the village knows. No one. If the Old Man doesn't, then no one else does.”

“That’s why they own a shop where they write for others. They are the only people who write. They have power because they have knowledge.” I frantically spewed anything and everything that came to mind.

“People are scared of them. If they helped Yrish, they would likely lose the respect of her family,” I laughed bitterly.

“Repugnant. All of them cowards!”

I screamed while crying my heart out, “Cowards! Cowards!”

Maybe it was all speculation, but it made sense in my head.

Why wouldn’t it?

It was definitely the truth.

“Why didn’t the Old Man help her?” I cried. “Why? Is he also a coward?”

“What a hideous town! It’s sickening!” I shouted, laughing.

“People are all the same. Humankind is the scum of the earth. We should all be devoured by maggots for all I care.” I trembled.

I couldn’t think straight anymore.

That night I didn’t eat dinner with the Old Man.

I stayed in bed. Disgusted at everything. Disgusted at myself.

I was no better than anyone, and I couldn’t do anything about it.

I chuckled, bitter and empty.

I cried, muffled by the bedcovers, until I fell asleep.