I didn't sleep well. Every dream felt like drowning — monsters lunging from the dark, claws ripping at my ribs, that endless echo of my own ragged breathing.
When the morning light bled through the cracked window, I felt like a hollow shell.
I got up anyway.
I took what was left of my Valis and paid for another night in case I needed to crawl back later. I wasn't sure if I was planning to return… or if I expected to return at all.
I stepped into the early streets of Orario. The city felt like it was vibrating under my feet — merchants calling out, smiths hammering, adventurers striding past in shining armor, laughing or arguing.
All of them felt worlds apart from me.
I didn't know where I was going. I just… walked.
Past the main square, past the busy taverns, past the bright Familia banners hanging like silent guardians over alleyways.
At some point, I found myself at a small stone fountain tucked between two tall buildings. I splashed water onto my face, hoping it would wash away the raw exhaustion clinging to my bones.
That's when I heard the footsteps.
"Bell-kun! Wait for me! You're too fast!"
I turned my head just in time to see a young adult with white hair dart past — his expression wide-eyed and determined, as if the entire world depended on his next step.
Then she appeared.
A small, barefoot girl nearly tripped into the open square, bells and ribbons bouncing wildly. Her black twin-tails whipped around her shoulders, and her blue eyes flashed with equal parts worry and excitement.
She skidded to a stop when she saw me. Her eyes went huge, her mouth forming a perfect O.
"Ah!" she gasped, pointing dramatically. "You look… terrible!"
I blinked, unable to form words.
She rushed forward, nearly slipping on the stones. She stopped so close I could see the fine lines of worry in her eyes.
"You… did you just come from the Dungeon?" she asked, scanning my torn cloak, my stained shirt, my bandaged ribs.
"Just yesterday," I croaked. My voice sounded foreign, like it belonged to someone else.
She puffed her cheeks out in indignation.
"Unbelievable! Going alone? Are you crazy? You could have died! Bell-kun! Come look at this!"
The white-haired boy doubled back, skidding to a halt beside her. His wide crimson eyes landed on me, and he stiffened.
"Uh… Hestia-sama, are you sure it's okay to just… talk to random people like this?" he asked, scratching the back of his head nervously.
Hestia spun on her heel and shot him a glare. "Bell-kun! This person is clearly in trouble! We have to help!"
Bell glanced at me again, and for a moment, our eyes met. His expression shifted — wariness melting into something else. Recognition, maybe. Or a kind of sympathy only another rookie adventurer could understand.
I looked away first. My throat tightened.
"I don't need help," I managed to force out, though my voice shook. "I'm fine."
Hestia pouted, her hands on her hips. "You call this fine?! You look like you were chewed up by a dragon and spat out! At least let us take you to a healer!"
My stomach twisted.
I thought about lying. Walking away. But something about her — her bright, stubborn light — froze my feet to the ground.
Bell looked at Hestia, then back at me. Slowly, he stepped forward, rubbing his hand over his chest as if steadying himself.
"If… if you don't want to go to a healer," he said carefully, "maybe at least come with us to eat? You look like you haven't had a meal in days."
The simplicity of it — the offer of something as normal as a meal — nearly broke me.
I glanced down at my hand, the mark faint under my sleeve. It pulsed once, like a heartbeat.
I took a slow breath and nodded.
"…Okay," I whispered.
Hestia's face brightened like a sunrise. "Good! We were going to a stand nearby! Bell-kun, lead the way!"
Bell hesitated, then smiled — small, shy, but genuine. "Sure."
As we walked, I caught fragments of their chatter — Hestia scolding Bell for running too fast, Bell protesting in awkward stammers. Every so often, Hestia would glance back at me, as if checking to make sure I hadn't collapsed or vanished.
When we reached a small food stand tucked under a stone archway, they insisted I sit. Bell handed me a plate of steaming skewered meat.
I stared at it for a long moment before picking it up. My hands trembled as I took the first bite.
The warmth filled my mouth, spreading down to my chest. I hadn't realized how cold I'd felt until that moment.
Hestia leaned forward on the opposite bench, her chin in her hands, watching me with wide, curious eyes.
"You know," she said slowly, her voice softening, "we don't have many members in our Familia. Just Bell-kun for now. And… you look like someone who needs a place to belong."
Bell glanced at her sharply, then at me. His gaze searched my face, cautious but not unfriendly.
I lowered my eyes, my fingers tightening on the plate.
"I'm… not sure if I belong anywhere," I muttered.
Hestia's expression faltered for a moment, her eyes softening with something almost like pain.
"That's okay," she said gently. "We're not asking for an answer right now. But… think about it, okay?"
Bell nodded, his expression conflicted — as if he was torn between wanting to welcome me and protecting the fragile thing they'd built together.
I didn't answer. I just ate, slowly, listening to their quiet chatter.
The mark on my hand felt warm — not pushing, not whispering this time. Just… waiting.
As we finished, Hestia gave me a small package of bread and fruit for later. Bell helped me to my feet, his hand awkward and hesitant.
When we parted ways, Hestia turned back one last time, her twin-tails bouncing.
"Think about it!" she called, waving brightly. "No rush!"
I watched them disappear into the crowd.
My chest felt heavy and strangely warm.
I glanced at the mark on my hand one more time.
"Think about it, huh?" I murmured, tucking the food against my chest and turning back toward the inn.
For the first time, I felt like the world wasn't pushing me forward alone.
And for once, I didn't mind the idea of stopping to think.
.
.
.
I tossed the package Hestia gave me onto the rickety table in my room. I stood there, staring at it — bread, fruit, a small cloth wrapping it all together.
I didn't need it. But somehow, I didn't throw it away either.
I wasn't the type to be moved by bright smiles or soft words. I knew what this world was. Strength ruled here. Everyone else was just background noise, fuel for the Dungeon's endless hunger.
But that goddess… and that kid.
I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling sharply.
Their offer wasn't just kindness. It was a risk — for them and for me. And I hated the idea of being pitied.
I grabbed my cloak, swung it around my shoulders, and stepped into the evening streets.
I moved like smoke through the alleys, my steps light despite the bruises echoing under my skin. I didn't wander aimlessly — I had a destination in mind.
I wanted to see him again. Bell.
I trailed him easily. He was too focused on his own world to notice the eyes in the shadows. He trained at the outskirts — a bare, dusty yard littered with old weapon racks and scuffed ground.
I watched from above, perched on the edge of a low roof.
He swung that practice sword with everything he had. Sloppy. Too wide. Too much wasted motion. But each swing carried a desperation that caught my eye.
He stumbled. Got up. Swung again.
I scoffed quietly, shaking my head.
"You're trying to become something out of your league, kid," I muttered, resting my chin on my hand.
But then, my eyes narrowed.
There it was. Underneath the clumsy technique, beneath the raw, reckless energy — there was resolve. A stubbornness that reminded me of a blade pressed against my own throat.
That determination was real.
I respected that.
But respect didn't mean I was ready to join them.
I flexed my fingers, feeling the mark burn softly against my palm. Power answered me — eager, restless. It wasn't a tool for teamwork. It was a weapon for predators, ghosts, monsters lurking in the dark.
I wasn't some lost child needing a warm bed and a kind word.
I was Ogun. And if I chose to walk alongside someone, it would be because I decided they were worth it — not because they offered me pity.
Bell finally dropped to his knees, panting. He looked up at the moon, his expression tight, as if he were making a promise to it.
I jumped down silently from the roof, landing lightly on the ground below. I stood there for a moment, hidden in the darkness, watching him gather his things.
He paused, his crimson eyes flicking in my direction for a heartbeat — but he didn't see me. Just a feeling, perhaps, like prey sensing a wolf watching from the trees.
A small smirk tugged at my lips.
"Not bad, Rabbit," I murmured.
I turned away, cloak snapping behind me, and melted back into the city's maze of alleys.
On my way back to the inn, I rolled the idea over in my mind like a blade between my fingers.
A Familia.
Hestia. Bell.
They weren't weak — just unpolished. And I had no intention of playing hero or older brother. But if I ever decided to stand beside them, it wouldn't be because I needed them.
It would be because, for once, I wanted to.
Back in my room, I sat at the table and finally tore into the bread Hestia had given me. It was simple, but the warmth spread through my chest like a quiet ember.
I stared at the mark on my hand, my eyes sharp.
"You don't own me," I said to it — or maybe to this entire world.
I leaned back, a low chuckle slipping out as I planned tomorrow in my mind.
"Let's see if they're worth it."