《Bound by Betrayal》


 (0) The Promise Beneath the Willow

    Eldermont had always been my home¡ªa quiet town nestled between rolling hills and towering pines. It was safe, dull, and peaceful. Perhaps that¡¯s why it was comforting, why it was easy to love, and I did love it, with all my heart.


    At its center stood the church¡ªa solemn sanctuary of weathered stone, crowned by a vast stained-glass window. When the sun hit just right, the goddess within shone as if watching over us all. It was one of the few places that truly felt safe.


    The other was beneath an old willow tree, where I could look out over the village¡ªsmall, warm, like something from a dream. A dream I never wanted to wake from.


    But today, that dream was slipping away.


    I loved this place.


    I loved my home.


    But the church had given me everything¡ªfood, shelter, a place to belong. I never went hungry. I always had enough. And yet¡­ despite their care, I stayed small¡ªfragile, like glass. People often said I looked like a noble¡¯s child, skinny and delicate like a doll. I never understood why they laughed when they said it.


    Still, I smiled when they laughed. Even if I didn¡¯t understand, even if it felt hollow, at least for that moment, I belonged.


    My fingers curled into the hem of my faded blue skirt¡ªanother gift from the church, handpicked by Sister Milia. She always fussed over me, making sure my sleeves were straight, my shoes clean, my hair neatly braided. Even if everything I owned was secondhand, she made it feel new.


    Everything I had came from them.


    I owed them everything.


    And I should have done whatever they wanted without question.


    But this... I didn¡¯t want this.


    Tears traced warm, salty lines down my cheeks, mixing with the dust on my skin. I sat beneath the old oak tree on the hill¡ªour secret place. Not because it was hidden, but because no adults bothered coming here. It was just far enough away to be a nuisance for anyone without a reason to go.


    And for me, with nowhere else to be and nothing else to do, this view was everything.


    Usually, it helped me breathe. Yet today, no matter how tightly I hugged my knees, no matter how many deep breaths I took¡ªIt wasn¡¯t enough.


    Tears blurred my vision as I looked down at the village. Wooden houses huddled together, their thatched roofs sagging with age. The dirt roads stretched empty and dry, doors and windows shut tight, the usual warmth of the village hidden beneath layers of worry.


    The blacksmith still worked, but his hammer struck iron in slow, measured beats¡ªnot the strong, rhythmic clangs I¡¯d grown up hearing. The baker¡¯s wife stood outside her stall, not arranging fresh loaves, but counting what little remained.


    The only home I had ever known.


    The sun bathed the village in gold, but I felt none of its warmth.


    The air pressed against my skin like a silent farewell. The voices below felt distant, echoes of a life I was already being erased from. A soft breeze stirred my hair, whispering things I didn¡¯t want to hear¡ªsecrets of loneliness, of being forgotten, of never belonging anywhere again.


    I buried my face in my knees, trying to block it all out.


    My chest ached in a way I didn¡¯t understand. A sharp, hollow pain, like something inside me was being taken away.


    I didn¡¯t want to go.


    "Alivia!"


    My name rang out across the hill, loud and desperate.


    I stiffened, my hands rushing to my face. Not now. Not when I was crying. I wiped at my face quickly, but the tears fell faster than I could stop them.


    The pounding of footsteps grew closer. Jorge was running up the hill, kicking up dust with every step. His dark hair bounced with the movement, clinging to his sweaty forehead. The setting sun caught the dampness on his skin, turning him golden¡ªlike the heroes in Old Man Peterson¡¯s stories.


    The sight of him made my chest ache. This was the last time I¡¯d ever see him. Despite my best efforts the thought made fresh tears spill. Jorge skidded to a stop, panting hard, hands on his knees. Sweat streaked through the dirt on his face, his wooden sword knocking against his belt with every sharp breath.


    "Ma told me what they¡¯re plannin¡¯!" he blurted, his voice cracking. I flinched. Even he sounded scared. He dragged a hand through his messy hair, gripping it tight like he could hold onto his thoughts. "Ma said there ain¡¯t nothin¡¯ we can do," he muttered, scuffing his boot against the dirt.


    Jorge had always been like this¡ªfull of feelings, full of fire, letting them lead him like an untamed horse. I had always admired that about him.


    His spirit, so bright and fearless, felt like the opposite of me in every way. I was quiet and weak. I had never been brave enough to be anything else.


    "I dunno why they¡¯d let ¡®em take ya like that!" Jorge¡¯s voice rang out sharp, cutting through the wind. His words held no hesitation, just confusion. Like he couldn¡¯t begin to understand why they¡¯d send me away.


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    I flinched.


    It wasn¡¯t the anger in his voice. It was the way he said it¡ªlike the answer wasn¡¯t obvious. The only problem was I knew what the answer was. Why I had to leave.


    I shook my head. "She¡¯s right."


    Jorge whipped toward me, eyes narrowing. "What?"


    "She¡¯s right," I repeated, softer now.


    A shadow of disbelief passed over his face. He stared at me like I had lost my mind.


    But I hadn¡¯t.


    I knew exactly what I was saying.


    I dropped my gaze, staring at the dust clinging to my shoes. "They can¡¯t afford to look after me," I whispered.


    I had grown up in this village. I knew the smell of every home¡¯s hearth, the sound of the blacksmith¡¯s hammer against steel, the way the early morning air carried the scent of damp hay.


    But I was rarely a part of it.


    I wasn¡¯t the baker¡¯s daughter, carrying fresh loaves to the market.


    I wasn¡¯t the blacksmith¡¯s son, learning the weight of a hammer.


    I wasn¡¯t even the merchant¡¯s apprentice, working for the future.


    I was the orphan girl. Never hated, never wanted. Just there. Another mouth to feed in a village that was losing more and more of its harvest every year.


    Jorge¡¯s fists clenched. "That don¡¯t mean they gotta send ya away!" His voice cracked, louder than he meant it to be. He stepped forward, like he could argue this into changing.


    "We could find a way."


    For just a second, I wanted to believe him.


    But only for a second. I knew better. Spun the thought in my head over and over again. There was no other way.


    "There¡¯s nothing we can do." The words cut through the air, through the warmth of the summer evening, through him. Jorge staggered¡ªjust a little¡ªlike I had hit him. Yet I was the one crying.


    Silence passed between us.


    Then, suddenly Jorge stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me.


    I froze.


    His grip was tight, but it wasn¡¯t crushing, in fact it was quite warm. Steady. Like he was holding me together even as I was falling apart.


    And that was the moment I broke


    .


    I clenched his tunic between my fingers, squeezing my eyes shut as tears spilled onto his shoulder.


    I had tried so hard to be strong.


    I had tried so hard not to cry in front of him.


    But he was so warm. And I had been cold for so long.


    And for the first time since this nightmare began¡ªI didn¡¯t feel alone.


    I cried until my whole body ached, until the grief clawing at my chest dulled into shaky, uneven breaths.


    Only then did he pull back.


    His hands rested on my shoulders, firm but gentle. He was still just a boy, but in that moment¡ªThere was something noble about him. His brown eyes locked onto mine, fierce and unwavering.


    "Fine," he said, steady as stone. "Then I¡¯ll just find you."


    I sucked in a sharp breath. I hadn¡¯t expected those words. Jorge pushed away from me, pulling out his wanted weapon and holding that wooden sword before us with new determination.


    "I''ll become an adventurer," he declared, fierce and unshakable. "That''s all I ever wanted anyway."


    Of course. Of course he would say that. A small, choked laugh slipped from me, and for the first time in a while, something in my chest felt lighter.


    Jorge had always talked about being an adventurer¡ªgrand quests, slaying monsters, saving villages. Who could blame him? Old Man Peterson¡¯s stories were legendary. Even I had dreamed of going on an adventure, just once to see a story turned into reality.


    Jorge would be the one to take me on such a thing. Just him, and me.


    "To do that," Jorge continued, his determination burning brighter than the setting sun, "I have to be the best."


    He grinned, reckless and full of impossible confidence.


    "And if I¡¯m gonna be the best, I¡¯ll need the best team."


    He held out his pinky.


    "And that means..."


    My breath hitched. I saw where this was going, but I wasn¡¯t ready for it.


    "I need you."


    Three simple words. But they hit harder than anything I¡¯d ever heard.


    Something inside me unraveled, a warmth curling in my chest, sharp and undeniable.


    I loved him.


    Not in the way of fairy tales or whispered confessions. But in the way that meant I wanted to be there. Beside him. Always.


    Tears pricked my eyes again, but this time, they weren¡¯t just sad. There was something more¡ªsomething steady and bright. I smiled, unguarded, as I wiped my face with the back of my hand.


    "You promise?" I asked softly, hesitating. ¡°I might slow you down, make things difficult for you. We both know I was never meant for adventure.¡±


    Jorge¡¯s expression softened, just for a moment. Then he grinned again, wiggling his pinky.


    "Swear on my sword."


    A giggle bubbled up before I could stop it. A sword made of wood. Would that even count?


    But before I could tease him, Jorge¡¯s voice dropped, steady and sure.


    "And you could never slow me down." His gaze held mine, unwavering. "I¡¯d always be there for you. You only need to be there for me."


    My heart thundered in my chest, my ears burning. Slowly, with a little disbelief still lingering in the edges of my thoughts, I lifted my hand and linked my pinky with his.


    "Swear on your sword," I whispered, my voice trembling with something new. "Even if it¡¯s just wood."


    Jorge¡¯s cheeks puffed, and he looked away, scowling. "It¡¯s still a sword."


    His embarrassment only made me laugh harder.


    And for the first time since they told me I was leaving¡ª


    I wasn¡¯t afraid anymore.


    I wasn¡¯t alone.


    I leaned forward and kissed my knight¡¯s cheek.

 (1) Nothing to Them

    "Alivia Feh¨¦r," my name was spat out with venom, making me flinch as if struck. I shook looking at Jorge as his eyes glinted with a menacing light, reflecting the flickering candle''s flame. "We''re finally moving on, without you.¡± For a moment I let out a relieved breath. Then their meaning sunk in.


    Jorge''s words came from a ruthless indifference that it took her a moment to understand, and when I realized it my chest tightened painfully. His eyes  used to radiate warmth and reassurance, now pierced me with an icy detachment that sent shivers down my spine. It wasn''t just his demeanor; the entire party seemed to freeze in time, their eyes fixed on the scene unfolding before them. Each of them smiling in satisfaction.


    As if this was a long time coming.


    "You contribute absolutely nothing to this group. You''re not just dead weight; you''re a pathetic, sniveling parasite sucking the life out of us and dragging us into the depths. We have real ambitions, real potential, but you? You''re nothing more than a monumental waste of space, a black hole of uselessness."


    His words pierced me, sinking deep into the core of my being.


    I reflected on the relentless struggle I had endured, pouring my heart and soul into every healing touch, every whispered incantation of support magic that I cast for the group''s benefit.


    I tried so hard. Each day was a struggle to keep up, but I fought with everything I had to prove my worth to them. To him. They might not have gotten in trouble, no big wound besides the odd bump or scrape but even when there was nothing I healed them every morning, every night.


    I did my best to keep everyone invigorated with a variety of support spells¡ªboosts for stamina, strength, and even remedies for fatigue. But they were like monsters, unfazed and growing by leaps and bounds, above what any other human could have possibly done.


    It truly was a party that was destined to be the best. S Class, no SS Class even and while I knew I was being looked down on I never in a million years could have expected this. after all I''m just a healer, what could I do if they don¡¯t get hurt.


    "Jorge," Sasha interrupted, her voice dripping with sweetness and malice, "we could keep it around a little longer as our personal healer." Her mocking laugh rang out like a bell tolling for the condemned. "Better yet," she purred, her dark robes clinging to every curve as she sauntered over with an alluring swing in her hips, "if it¡¯s willing to service us as our little plaything." Her eyes glinted wickedly, daring me. She stood so close that her scent enveloped me, a bewitching mix of jasmine and danger. Her long fingers traced the air near my cheek, stopping just short of touching me.


    I couldn¡¯t help but push back from her act, but this seemed to only further amuse her. Sasha laughed again, turning her back on me with a dismissive flick of her wrist. Jorge''s eyes followed her with an eagerness that he no longer directed towards me.


    It stung more than I wanted to admit.


    "I never thought of it like that," Jorge pondered, but his smile gave him away. It was clear they had already discussed something similar, and from the way his eyes lingered only on my chest, I grasped exactly what they meant by plaything.


    "You hear that?" he taunted, his voice dripping with sarcasm as my eyes widened in disbelief. "Maybe you do have some use after all."


    Was that truly all I meant to them? To him? My breathing faltered, and my vision tunneled as the world felt distant and surreal. The warmth and the spark of hope within me were snuffed out. Had it always been this way? Had they always gazed at me with such disdain? I found it difficult to remember a time when they genuinely smiled at me.


    The taunting laughter weighed on me, causing me to feel insignificant. The tavern was dimly lit, with flickering candlelight casting shadows across the rough wooden walls. The scent of cheap ale mixed with the musty aroma of damp wood lingered heavily in the air. my mind racing, grasping for answers¡ªwhere had it all gone wrong?


    Jorge sat at the center of the table, his presence undeniable. Even in the dim tavern light, the warm glow of the lanterns caught in his rich brown hair, adding depth to the tousled waves that framed his sharp, handsome features. His striking green eyes gleamed with confidence, a flicker of amusement dancing behind them as if he already knew the outcome of this conversation. His posture was relaxed but commanding¡ªhe was always the center of attention, not just because of his skill as a leader, but because he drew people in effortlessly, like gravity itself bowed to him.


    Sasha leaned into him, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her cup, her ruby-red lips curling into a secretive smile. Everything about her was designed to captivate, from the way her midnight-black robes clung to her curves, accentuating the swell of her chest and the elegant lines of her body, to the way her deep violet eyes¡ªalmost unnatural in their beauty¡ªswept over the room, daring anyone to challenge her claim over Jorge. She was the kind of woman that left men breathless, the kind that even other women admired in spite of themselves. And she knew it.


    Brooklyn and Kyan lounged nearby, both exuding the kind of confidence that came with being seasoned warriors. Brooklyn, ever the brute, had the sturdy, muscular build of a seasoned fighter, his skin marked by faint scars that spoke of battles won and foes bested. His heavy boots were propped against the chair in front of him, his grin lazy and unbothered. Kyan, in contrast, was sleek and wiry, his lean frame built for speed rather than brute strength. His dark, piercing eyes flitted between Alivia and Jorge, always watching, always calculating. When he smirked, there was something predatory about it, something that made Alivia''s stomach twist.


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    At the far end of the table, Marissa and Keanu sat close, their heads bent together in quiet conversation. Marissa had always been soft-spoken, her dark hair pulled into an intricate braid, her manner delicate, but her silence now felt like a quiet agreement rather than an act of kindness. Beside her, Keanu¡¯s sharp jaw and cold expression made it clear he had already dismissed Alivia from his thoughts. Their hushed whispers weren¡¯t meant for her. They were never meant for her.


    Alivia stood frozen in place, her hands trembling at her sides. Their laughter felt distant, muffled by the growing, hollow numbness in her chest. It wasn''t just the cruel words, the cold dismissal¡ªit was the ease with which they said it. Like she had never mattered to them at all.


    They had moved on from her before she even knew she was being left behind.


    ¡°But I can heal¡ª¡± I started, desperate to defend myself but it was Kyan cut me off with a lazy wave of his hand.


    ¡°We don¡¯t need a healer. Besides, you¡¯re slow, you hesitate too much, and honestly¡­¡± He chuckled, shaking his head. ¡°You''re just too damn pathetic.¡±


    As the others murmured their agreement, a tightness coiled around my chest, and tears threatened to spill from my eyes. I forced myself to hold back, knowing this wasn¡¯t the time or place to break down. ¡°I¡¯ve been with you since the beginning,¡± I managed to say, my voice barely more than a whisper.


    Jorge exhaled heavily, the sound filled with frustration. ¡°And look where it¡¯s gotten us. We¡¯re aiming for something greater. We can¡¯t afford to carry dead weight anymore.¡±


    Dead weight.


    The words hit me like a punch to the gut, leaving me wavering on my feet. I struggled to control my breathing, to keep the tremors at bay, but the chorus of laughter surrounding me made it almost impossible.


    Sasha¡¯s voice cut through the noise, her tone dripping with insincere sweetness. ¡°We thought we¡¯d be nice about it,¡± she said, each word a dagger coated in honey. ¡°But honestly, we¡¯ve been holding onto you out of pity. However, I have another idea, something you¡¯d be far more suited for.¡± Her giggle followed, a light, mocking sound that sent a chill down my spine.


    My stomach twisted into knots as Jorge nodded his agreement, his eyes glinting with a sharp, chilling malice. It wasn''t kindness or camaraderie that I saw reflected there; it was pure cruelty. ¡°Everyone agreed, the entire party,¡± he chuckled, his voice dripping with derision, ¡°well, the ones that matter anyway.¡± He continued,  ¡°You can stay,¡± his tone light and dismissive, as if he were offering a casual suggestion. ¡°but only if you do something about that obscene body of yours.¡±


    I could only blink at his words. ¡°What¡­?¡± I started to ask what he meant. obscene? My body was obscene?


    Jorge''s grin stretched wide across his face, a mocking sneer. "The only thing you''re destined to be is a stay-at-home whore.¡± I could blink at the words, spoken with such disinterest. ¡°Let''s face it, Alivia. You were never cut out for the life of an adventurer. Just a plaything, for others to exploit at their whim. It''s practically what you were born for, after all."


    It was in that moment I realized their eyes were fixed, not on my face, but on my figure. A wave of vulnerability washed over me, as if an invisible layer had been stripped away, leaving me exposed. Despite the thick, white robes that draped my frame in the chilly winter morning, I instinctively wrapped my arms around myself, trying to shield my body from their intrusive gaze.


    Sasha, draped over his shoulder, giggled into his sleeve, while Brooklyn burst into outright laughter. ¡°Come on, Liv,¡± Brooklyn taunted, her eyes dancing with mockery. ¡°You had to know this was coming. What else are you good for?¡±


    Their smiles told me everything I needed to know: to them, I was nothing more than a pathetic stray, unwanted and useless. There was no convincing them otherwise, no redemption in their eyes. This was how they saw me. All along...


    ¡°Don¡¯t cry,¡± Sasha teased, her voice a sickly sweet mockery of empathy. ¡°It¡¯d be so much easier if you just accepted it.¡±


    The tavern seemed to whirl around her, making her feel nauseous. Her hands shook as she stood up and distanced herself from the group at the table. They continued to laugh and discuss various ways she could be used to satisfy the party''s sexual desires, including the men, women, and even Jorge himself.


    Jorge frowned. ¡°Don¡¯t be stupid, Alivia. No one else is gonna take you in. You think any other party will want someone as pathetic as you?¡± The others snickered, nodding in agreement. ¡°You don¡¯t belong in a party like ours. But don¡¯t worry¡ªwe¡¯ve found the perfect role for you.¡±


    "Red Street''s always a possibility," Kyan suggested with a grin. "It would be safer and we can give her a letter of recommendation." They laughed in agreement, even offering to write her a letter of introduction if I was interested.


    Conflicting memories swirled in my mind¡ªJorge, who once promised to always protect me before I had to leave the only home I''d ever known, and now, years later, that same boy had become a fine young man, laughing as I was insulted and labeled a whore by those I believed were my closest friends.


    My breathing was fast and uneven, tears spilling as my vision blurred. I couldn''t remain here. I needed to leave. Without another word, I turned on my heel and ran.


    Laughter followed me, echoing in my ears as I burst out into the cold night air, tears streaming down my face.


    My head felt heavy, consumed by thoughts of him¡ªthe first man I ever loved and still loved, even though he was with Sasha. I had always dreamed of going on adventures with him, of standing beside Jorge as his equal. The love I cherished seemed distant now, yet a part of me still held on.


    A joke, a dream¡ªanything to explain what happened. If only everything would be better tomorrow.


    Even when my legs became too heavy to keep running and I wandered aimlessly around the town, feeling hollow and miserably sad, I realized it wasn''t a dream. I meant nothing to any of them, including Jorge.


    I was his only friend, which is why he kept me close to his heart for so many years. But as our world expanded, he met others who were more reliable, people who made him see how useless I was¡ªa burden that would only hold him back.


    My legs buckled, and I collapsed onto the cold stone. There was no pain. I was far too numb, my soul too shattered to feel anything or worry about the blood and pooled onto the stone.


    I was alone, nothing to them.

 (2) Without a Voice

    Waking up the next day, everything hit me all at once. I opened my eyes to stare up at the familiar drab grey-brown ceiling, plaster cracking in pieces that began to fall ages ago. After a restful night''s sleep, my chest felt lighter now. Of course now, it was now empty and numb.


    With a deep breath, I reluctantly pushed myself up only to sit there in memory for gods know how long. I didn''t want to move or even get out of bed. I no longer had anything to do today. I was no longer a member of Flame Strike.


    I was no doubt still part of the Guild, Crimson Horizon, but getting kicked out of a heritage party would be a deadly blow to my status in the guild. Flame Strike was one of three heritage parties linked to the founding of the guild which made it even more impressive.


    Partly due to luck and partly due to skill, our party became the obvious choice to carry the Flame Strikes banner after the previous group disbanded when two of their members retired. Jorge quickly replaced the original party name, Sword of Eldermont. Although I felt a bit sad about losing the Eldermont name, I understood that it was a necessary step for him to get closer to his dream. Being in a heritage party was exactly what he needed, as we all aimed to advance in the Guild and make our party the best in the world.


    But that no longer had anything to do with me.


    ¡°I should check in with the guild.¡± I spoke those words aloud, small and quiet. taking a breath I continued thinking about what to do next. ¡°Once there I would need to apply to be in another party, I can¡¯t do anything alone as a healer¡­¡± but I couldn¡¯t do anything even in the party could I.


    my gaze drifted lazily as I tried to push the thought from my head. They shuffled over to the full-length mirror by the closet. There, a woman with tired eyes and slumped shoulders stared back at me. The nightdress was made from a silky fabric that shimmered under the dim light. The floral trim, intricate and delicate, had caught my eye years ago, the soft fabric has caused me to fall in love with it, ensuring my night dress would be this comfortable thing.


    Now, all I can see is how it hugs my body, highlighting every curve and leaving little to the imagination.


    "Only if you do something about that obscene body of yours."


    the words echoed in my head causing me to jolt. with a pulse of fear I grasped at the mirror ahead of me, just outside of my reach. however it still fell as I pulled the mana in the air and yanking it forcefully, which caused the mirror to lurch forward awkwardly. It fell to the ground and shattered.


    I could only sign as I looked at the back of the mirror, hiding the splintered glass before me. Anyone could perform telekinesis, the skill of manipulating mana to create a tangible change in the world, but I was always useless with it.


    Before I always told myself it was because it was something under the umbrella of Attack Magic, where I was a Specialized Healing Magic user. Naturally, those with attack abilities found it easier to wield, but all I intended to do was flip the mirror, and instead, I shattered it.


    It was a straightforward spell, and I couldn''t even manage that. I felt utterly useless. I trembled, wrapping my arms around my legs and wallowing in my own despair.


    <hr>


    It took some time but I managed to get up and dress. I chose a simple blue day dress¡ªnot too fancy but comfortable enough for errands. A slight worry lingered that it might be a bit too revealing, but Jorge had complimented it often in the past, so¡­ it should be fine.


    The thought of changing clothes again made me groan¡ªit was already too much hassle. All I wanted was to retreat to the comfort of my bed, pull the covers over my head, and let the world fade away in muted silence.


    Unfortunately, while I would be able to enjoy wallowing in misery right now, the problem was the simple fact that it would take ages to find a party that would accept me. I needed to get ahead of this if I wanted to continue my cozy life in Teilart.


    With a weary sigh, I grabbed my wallet¡ªa well-worn leather pouch from our very first journey¡ªit''s coins clinking softly. I made sure it was securely tucked in my pocket. My hand then touched the sleek, polished surface of a plain wooden Tak Stab, which I hung next to my bag on my belt, feeling comforted as it rested against my hip.


    I glanced at the door before turning back. The bag¡¯s weight suggested it needed a few dozen more coins. I had just bought a lot of supplies for our raids the day before so it was quite light. I had more than enough saved, but it was stashed securely within the walls. An act that kept them secure should the worst happen, but retrieving them was a time-consuming chore I didn¡¯t want to bother with.


    And I... was simply dragging myself out to check in with the guild. I felt no desire to eat or shop, or even to be outside at all. The world seemed dull and uninspiring, and every step felt heavier than the last.


    I shook my head, I''m not doing anything that would be worth the effort. All I wanted was to finish this errand quickly and spend the rest of the year lying in bed, wallowing in my own misery. With a resigned sigh, I stepped outside, carefully locking my door behind me.


    The Guild¡¯s Temporary Lodging Facility was a multi-story complex that provided temporary housing for its adventurers, like me. It was like a temporary home for us based on a monthly rent pre determined by the guild. It allowed us to pay relatively the same rate in different cities and towns. Allowing us to be flexible when needed and was the biggest benefit to being in the guild.


    While the monthly rate making weekly or biweekly cost would make going to an inn cheaper, the TLF makes it viable to move all over the country so long as the Crimson Horizon Guild had a chapter.


    Still, every TLF had a requirement for the Guild Housing Officer, the individual that oversaw the TLF and its residence. That requirement was to be a mean old grumpy grouch who always looked down on the renter.


    The overseer of the Teilart''s TLF was a man called Lester Brim. He fit the role of a TLF Housing Officer to a T. doubly so as he also exuded an aura of discomfort that lingered with every audible breath he took. His disheveled countenance and foul-mouthed mannerisms were a spectacle that could make anyone recoil in his presence.


    Of course, Lester Brim was the first thing I saw, positioned in the dim hallway outside my room. His smile was marred by the absence of several teeth. His eyes were a shade of dull grey that seemed lifeless, emitted an unsettling glint that sent involuntary shivers down my spine.


    Wrapping my arms around myself as if to shield my presence, I pushed past him, determined to ignore his presence. He didn''t call out to me, which was a relief. He had never been inappropriate, just unpleasant. I always felt bad after our interactions for thinking this way but every time was something else. It didn¡¯t help that he was also incredibly annoying with his constant reminders about the guild rules and his condescending remarks every time I managed to pay the rent.


    That''s why I always paid for the maximum term allowed here¡ªsix months. I wanted to avoid any more interactions with that man.


    <hr>


    Pushing him out of my mind as I pushed the door open to the outside world I found myself in the lower district of Teilart.


    A vibrant chaos greeted me, buzzing with the restless energy of the late morning. Teilart¡¯s cobblestone streets were bustling with activity, threading through rows of colorful stalls and bustling crowds. The lower district teemed with life as merchants hawking their wares, each voice vying to be heard over the next, creating a cacophony that hummed in the air. The city seemed to pulse with its own heartbeat¡ªa stark contrast to the dull numbness I felt within myself.


    My heart thudded wildly in my chest as I stepped into the bustling square, the sheer number of people nearly staggering. The once invigorating energy of the vibrant crowds now turned my stomach, a queasy feeling bubbling within me. Laughter and chatter interwoven with the air, each voice piercing and harsh, as if every stranger''s gaze was judging me.


    I took a breath to steady myself, calm myself down enough so I didn¡¯t retreat back inside. I needed to get this done sooner than later. With that thought in mind I steeled myself and began the short walk to the main guild hall.


    The guild hall was massive, Its impressive facade of polished white stone gleamed brightly under the sun, adorned with banners of deep crimson emblazoned with the guild''s distinctive golden emblem¡ªa sun rising over crossed blades. Massive wooden doors, intricately carved with scenes of legendary battles from its long and honorable past, stood open, welcoming adventurers from all walks of life.


    That thought stopped me cold.


    I was already thinking of moving forward. A dull shock ran through me. Had I truly accepted this outcome so quickly? When Jorge started dating Sasha, I''d spent three days without food, unable to cope. And even then, I ate only to dull the ache. How long had I lived quietly aware that this rejection was inevitable?


    A sharp ache tightened in my chest. Yes, I¡¯d prepared myself to be left behind, but never like this. I¡¯d imagined quiet goodbyes, distant drifting¡ªnot the brutal, humiliating rejection. My throat tightened painfully. How long had I known, beneath my desperate denial, that this moment was inevitable?


    "Oi, move it, girly!"


    The sharp voice sliced through the clamor of the bustling hall, jolting me violently from my thoughts. My heart pounded as I realized I''d come to a complete stop, blocking the flow of people streaming past me. Blood surged to my cheeks, turning them crimson with embarrassment. I quickly mumbled an apology, my gaze fixated on the worn wooden floorboards.


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    ¡°S-sorry.¡±


    I pressed forward, my shoulders curving inward as I tried to make myself as small as possible, hoping to disappear into the crowd.


    I navigated through the bustling hall to the Auxiliary Windows, a row of counters tucked away in a quieter corner, often overlooked but still necessary. As I joined the short line, the murmur of conversations and the rustling of paper filled the air. As my turn finally arrived, I stepped forward to face the woman manning the counter. She wore the guild''s official uniform, a tightly-fitted bodice that dipped low, deliberately accentuating her curves. The short skirt hovered precariously on the edge of propriety, barely concealing what modesty demanded. Delicate lace frills adorned the hems, adding a misleading touch of innocence to an otherwise decidedly provocative ensemble.


    Her expression was one of practiced politeness, devoid of any genuine warmth or empathy. "Hey, how can I help?" she asked mechanically, her smile etched onto her face but never quite managing to illuminate her eyes.


    "I need to update my adventurer status, party affiliation, and all that," I replied, trying to sound better than I was.


    "Alright, can I get your Guild Card? And please fill out this form," she instructed, sliding a clipboard with a form across the counter. "Drop it in the blue box when you''re done and wait to be called."


    I nodded and reached into my bag, and pulled out my Guild Card. As I did, the card seemed to weigh heavily in my hand, it was an iron tag, no bigger than the palm of my hand.


    Alivia Feh¨¦r


    Female Human


    Class II - Healer


    341191220C112104


    SGC v3.4


    My entire life seemed to be summed up here, meticulously crafted by a talented mage.


    Like all the others it was a polished iron that looked almost like silver. cool against my skin. Turning it over, I found the entire back of the square card was filled by Crimson Horizon¡¯s emblem deeply embossed on its back, the familiar image of a sun cresting over crossed swords.


    "Ma''am?" The sarcastic tone snapped me out of my thoughts.


    "Oh, sorry, thank you," I replied, handing her my card and accepting the form she needed me to complete.


    I took a seat at one of the small wooden chairs that lined the walls, its frame creaking quietly beneath my weight as I looked over the form. On the clipboard was one of Mitchel Geovanni¡¯s new product called ¡®pen¡¯. A great replacement to the ink and quill.


    We met the man before, so long again, before he was famous and made it big. He was an odd creature who was lost in the woods and despite being clearly human he lacked a lot of the proper, innate knowledge that came with it. He was fun to talk to and had all these strange ideas, we all dismissed him as a loon, but in only three months that young man was now one of the kingdom¡¯s greatest inventors.


    I couldn''t help but smile at the memory. I think we were all happier back then, when we called ourselves the Sword of Eldermont.


    ¡­


    I sighed as the warmth from the memory faded, now I would be just another healer Looking For Group. A dime a dozen. If only I were a Cleric or even a Priest. Then perhaps I would be able too-I bit my lower lip, no best not think about it.


    With a sigh I uncapped the pen and shook my head at the sight, though it didn''t matter that I would never figure out how it worked what mattered wat that it did and my handwriting was far more improved thanks to the ease of its use and the missing splatter of ink that accompanied a quill.


    I filled out the simple details¡ªname, adventurer class and a few more obvious things. Writing down my guild id that I had memorized so long ago. Then I checked the change request and I managed to write expelled from the party quite cleanly. As if it didn''t matter to me at all.


    The nib scratched softly against the paper. My heart tightened painfully as I wrote, each letter feeling heavier than the last. A small, bitter smile curved my lips as I finished the form, gently blowing over the ink until it dried.


    Deep down, I knew the truth¡ªI had been holding them back. If Jorge was to reach his dream, he needed more than I could ever offer.


    As I stood I felt an odd sense of peace. It still hurt, my chest felt hollow, but there was a numb acceptance to it now. Jorge would meet his dream without me and honestly, that''s all I ever wanted.


    The wooden floorboards creaked beneath my steps, the chatter of the guild hall a distant murmur around me. I slipped the parchment into the blue box, the quiet rustle of paper oddly final.


    I stared at the box a moment longer, then, with a weary sigh, I returned to the chair, its cool wood firm beneath me. For now, I''d keep adventuring until something else to do¡ªwithout that party, without him I didn''t have the heart to keep adventuring.


    I don''t think I ever really enjoyed it anyways, but it paid well at least and despite how dangerous it was relatively easy.


    Time dragged on for more than a little while yet, despite my fears I was called before anyone I would recognize saw me.


    ¡°Alivia Feh¨¦r.¡± I jumped up right away at the sound of my name and pushed forward.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± I said passing by the young receptionist who guided me inside, after a few doors I was directed to sit at a table alone in a room with 2 chairs.


    ¡°Wait here, someone will be with you shortly.¡± I nodded and the woman closed the door behind her leaving me alone in the room. It was a little small and uncomfortable but I¡¯ve been in the interview room multiple times before.


    I had to chuckle, remembering my first time. I sat there a young, scared girl, freshly whisked away from the temple by a brave young hero who kept his promise he made 10 years ago.


    Oh how warm my heart was. I wanted to, with all my body and soul help him achieve his dream that I bit down every stomach turning fear I had and despite how I trembled in a chair very similar to this one, I had been able to answer every question asked of me.


    That''s when we started our adventure, all those years ago. The memory made me smile, causing my heart to warm, just a little despite myself.


    ¡°It was always destined to end.¡± I never wanted to be an adventurer or anything like that. I just wanted to be with him.


    The sound of the door slamming open caused me to jolt. Good feeling gone. hehe.


    The man who entered carried himself with an air of authority, his emerald-green eyes glinting with open disdain beneath short, impeccably groomed blond hair.


    Who ruined his day?


    His guild uniform was pristine, a crimson jacket with intricate gold embroidery along the cuffs, fastened over a perfectly starched white shirt. Yet the elegance of his attire did little to mask the hard, contemptuous look in his eyes. He glanced at me briefly, lip curled slightly as though he''d spotted something distasteful.


    "Alivia Feh¨¦r, right?" he demanded, voice blunt and dismissive. Without waiting for my answer, he sat across from me, dropping a thick folder onto the table with a careless thud. The scent of fresh ink and parchment rose into the air sharply, mingling with¡ªA sharp smell curled my noise as I was forced to smell his overpowering scent of his cologne.


    "Yes, that''s me," I said quietly, anxiety shifting in my seat. It was supposed to be simple but I got someone who had a stick up his¡­ rear.


    "I''m Vincent Renauld. Let''s skip the pleasantries." He leaned forward, folding his hands on the table as he fixed me with a cold, disgusted glare. "You''ve been expelled from Flame Strike, is that correct?"


    I nodded slowly, throat tight. "Yes, sir. Unfortunately, they¡ª"


    "Spare me the theatrics," Vincent cut me off harshly, eyes narrowing. "I don''t need your version of events sugarcoated. Your party¡ªFlame Strike¡ªmade sure the guild knows exactly what kind of person you are."


    His voice dripped with venom, each word like a dagger striking deeper into my chest. I blinked rapidly, confusion and panic setting in. "I don''t...what do you mean by¡ª?"


    "Don''t play dumb," he snapped, his tone acidic. "Do you have any idea how many complaints we''ve received? According to your former teammates, you''re nothing but a manipulative, wanton harlot who spent more time trying to seduce your way through missions than actually helping anyone."


    My breath caught painfully in my throat. "No! I would never¡ª"


    He raised a hand sharply, cutting me off again. "Quiet. I''ve seen plenty like you¡ªselfish, entitled girls who believe their pretty faces can mask incompetence. It won''t work here, Miss Feh¨¦r. Crimson Horizon has a reputation to maintain, and we won''t tolerate this sort of shameful behavior."


    His eyes moved over me, cold and openly contemptuous. "You''re lucky you''ve held your Class II rating for over five years. It''s the only reason you''re not immediately thrown out onto the streets. But rest assured, you''re officially flagged. Effective immediately, you''re on a five-month probation. At the end of that period, you''ll be reduced to Class I. And believe me," his voice dropped to a cruel whisper, "we''ll ensure every party you approach knows exactly what you are."


    A sickening nausea twisted inside me. My voice trembled, barely audible as I forced out the words, "But¡­I didn''t do anything¡ª"


    His palm slammed down on the table, the sharp crack echoing harshly in the small room. I jumped in shock, heart pounding. "Enough. You''re fortunate we''re even giving you these five months, if it were up to me, you''d already be gone."


    He rose sharply, eyes blazing with undisguised disgust. "You should be grateful you''re getting even this much leniency. But don''t worry," he said, voice dripping with disdain. "Five months pass quickly. And once you''re reduced to Class I, you''ll be out on the street with nothing. Exactly where you belong."


    Without another word, Vincent strode from the room, the door slamming shut behind him. Silence crashed down around me, thick and suffocating. My body shook violently as the reality of his words settled in, heavy and painful.


    ¡°Oh, don''t start your tears now," he sneered, clearly disgusted. "Your former party¡ªdespite everything you''ve put them through¡ªstill has some sympathy for your sorry situation." His tone dripped with sarcasm, his lip curled into a mocking half-smile.


    I stared blankly at him, unable to process his words.


    He reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a small, neatly folded envelope. My name was written across the front in Jorge''s unmistakable handwriting.


    "They asked me personally to give this to you," Vincent continued, a malicious gleam in his eyes. "Said it might help you. Frankly, I think it''s more than you deserve¡ªbut here." He tossed the envelope carelessly onto the table, where it landed with a soft whisper against the wood.


    Without another word, Vincent spun sharply and strode out, slamming the door behind him. The echo of his departure resonated in the small room,


    My fingers trembled violently as I picked up the envelope, my breath hitching as I opened it. I unfolded the cheap letter inside. The writing was clearly written in Jorge¡¯s hand.


    "To Whom it May Concern,


    The woman presenting this letter, Alivia Feh¨¦r, is no longer affiliated with our esteemed party, Flame Strike. However, we believe she possesses certain skills best suited to your establishment. Please accept her into your care with our deepest recommendation."


    Below the message was a finely printed address: "Madame Belladonna''s Pleasure House."


    The parchment fell from my shaking hands.


    They had planned this. Jorge¡ªmy Jorge¡ªhad deliberately set this in motion. My chest ached fiercely, my breaths coming in short, painful gasps. Tears blurred my vision, spilling down my cheeks unchecked.


    But worst of all was the feeling of betrayal¡ªthe realization that Jorge, the person I trusted above everyone else, had orchestrated my downfall with ruthless precision. He wasn''t just  happy with casting me out, he had to ruin me as well, discard me as cheaply as possible.


    I buried my face in trembling hands, shoulders shaking uncontrollably, as the world around me seemed to crumble into darkness.