Reina Shiratori sat before a cold convenience store bento.
The small table in the explorer boarding house.
The fluorescent light was harsh and white, and outside the window, a row of nighttime office buildings stood tall. The cup soup bought as a substitute for miso soup had passed too much time since hot water was poured into it, leaving a thin film stretched across the surface.
She held her chopsticks.
Yet, she could not bring the food to her mouth.
On her smartphone screen, Yuma Kamishiro’s rescue video was replaying over and over.
Yuma carrying a boy named Sota on his back as he emerged from the tunnel.
At his feet, a white cat wrapped in a faint glow.
The villagers wept, bowed their heads, and someone said thank you.
Yuma only nodded with a troubled expression.
Reina stopped the screen.
Yuma’s profile.
It was a face she knew well.
No.
It was more than just knowing it well.
They had once been in the same party.
They had surrounded the same pot by the same campfire.
They had breathed the same smoke in the same dungeon.
“Why?”
Her voice was so quiet that even she was surprised.
The expose video published by Ren Kurose had grown purely in view counts.
Yet, the comment section was not going the way Ren wanted.
“If you’re going to accuse someone, show the original.” “The timing is way too bad right after yesterday’s rescue video.” “Is it true that Kamishiro abandoned them? Isn’t the cut part of the footage the most important?” “Calling him an incompetent who can only cook makes no sense anymore.” “Why has Sword of Dawn been failing clearances lately?”
Reina stopped her finger on the final comment.
Continual clearance failures.
That phrase was close to a taboo within the team.
Since Yuma left, the performance of Sword of Dawn had indeed dropped.
At first, she thought it was a coincidence.
The dungeon compatibility was bad.
The difficulty of requests had gone up.
The timing for equipment updates overlapped.
There were excuses aplenty.
Still, was it really just that?
Reina drank a mouthful of the cup soup.
Lukewarm.
Only the saltiness remained on her tongue.
At that moment, she remembered a different taste.
The pre-dawn soup that Yuma used to make.
Her body after returning from a dungeon was always heavy like lead. Bathing in mana, mixed with the scents of sweat, blood, and medicinal herbs, Reina’s fingertips after using healing magic were always chilled to the bone.
At times like that, Yuma would put a small pot on the fire without saying a word.
Tearing dried meat finely, rehydrating dried vegetables, and letting leaves with a slight acidity float to the top.
It was not flashy food.
Yet, drinking a single sip warmed her from the depths of her throat, making her next breath a little easier.
“Reina used too much mana. Drink this first.”
“What about Ren-san and the others?”
“Those guys are grilling meat. You take this.”
Saying that, Yuma would sink a single bitter medicinal herb exclusively into Reina’s bowl.
She hated that bitterness.
Still, drinking it made her headache the next morning much lighter.
Ever since Yuma left, those headaches had returned.
Reina put down her chopsticks.
Something cold dropped deep inside her chest.
Was what he had been doing really just miscellaneous chores?
Reina stood up and opened the storage case in the corner of the room.
Old exploration logs.
Spare recording crystals.
Broken staff parts.
Things she had thought she no longer needed, she pulled out one by one.
The record she was looking for did not show up immediately.
That day.
Middle floors of the B-rank dungeon.
A mutated monster.
A passageway on the verge of collapse.
Smoke.
Ren’s voice.
The day it was said Yuma ran away.
Reina could not fully trust her own memories.
The smoke was thick, the sound echoed, and she did not know where or whose voice was coming from. That was why in the meeting room, Reina said, “I couldn’t see properly.”
Ren said Yuma left first.
Ren said Yuma carried the supplies away.
Ren said the rear guard was put in danger due to Yuma’s poor judgment.
If so, she thought it might be true.
She ended up thinking that.
“What if it was wrong?”
The moment she spoke those words aloud, her stomach tightened.
At the bottom of the storage case, a small crystal rolled around.
Reina picked it up.
An auxiliary recording crystal attached to her own staff.
Originally, it was meant to log healing magic. The footage was grainy. The audio tended to cut out easily. Auxiliary data that could not be used for official records.
That was why she submitted it to no one.
Reina herself had forgotten about it.
When she connected it to her device, an old file opened.
The screen was dark.
Almost nothing was visible through the smoke.
An abrasive roar.
Someone’s ragged breathing.
And then.
“Reina, run to the left!”
It was Yuma’s voice.
Reina’s hand stopped.
The footage shook, capturing an impact like slamming into a wall.
“Ren, send out the rear guard! I’ll hold this place!”
Ren’s voice.
Shouting.
Right after that, the corner of the screen captured Yuma’s back.
Amidst the smoke, Yuma was heading in the opposite direction of Reina and the others’ escape route.
He was not running away.
He was going back.
Toward the collapsing passageway.
Reina forgot how to breathe.
The footage cut off right there.
Shorter than the official record.
It was not a conclusive overall picture.
Even so, it held enough power to give shape to the sense of unease that had been piercing Reina’s chest.
At that moment, the room’s door was struck violently.
“Reina, are you in there?”
It was Ren’s voice.
Reina hurriedly closed her device.
When she opened the door, Ren Kurose was standing there. His hair was neat, but there were faint shadows beneath his eyes. Too much force gripped the smartphone in his hand, leaving his fingertips white.
“Did you watch the video?”
“I did.”
“The comment section is a mess. It’s just a bunch of pathetic fools making a fuss, but put out a word from you too.”
“A word?”
“You were the one left behind by Yuma back then. If you say it, they’ll shut up.”
Reina’s throat choked up.
Previously, she might have nodded.
That she was the victim.
That Ren protected her.
Because believing that way was easier.
“Ren-san.”
“What.”
“The audit department sent a request to submit the originals, didn’t they?”
Ren’s expression stiffened.
“Yeah.”
“Why did you refuse?”
“It’s a procedural issue. Is there any idiot who says yes and hands them over just because someone suddenly demands the originals?”
“Still, submitting them would clear things up.”
“It’s already clear.”
Ren’s voice lowered.
“He disrupted the team. He couldn’t even do his own job properly, and in the end, he held us back. Now he’s just playing the good guy using a cat and food out in the countryside.”
“Is that really true?”
The moment she said it, the air in the room changed.
Ren’s eyes narrowed.
“What are you trying to say?”
“Ever since Yuma-san left, our condition management has gotten worse. Mana sickness after expeditions has also increased. Healing potion consumption has nearly doubled. Food wastage is high, too.”
“So what. If miscellaneous chores drop by one person, some hassle is bound to increase.”
“Some, you say?”
“Reina.”
Ren stepped closer.
“Even you are getting fooled by him?”
Fooled.
At those words, Reina felt a chill run deep into her chest.
Who on earth was the one being fooled?
By Yuma.
Or by Ren.
Or perhaps, by herself.
“I’m sorry. I’m tired today.”
Reina placed her hand on the door.
Ren glared at her for a while, but eventually spat out a curse and turned away.
“Be at tomorrow’s clearance stream. We’ll show them who the real deal is.”
“A clearance stream?”
“Yeah. I won’t let some countryside cook and a cat steal all the attention, no joke.”
Ren spat out those words and walked down the hallway.
The door closed.
Reina sat down right there on the spot.
Her hands were shaking.
Scared.
Defying Ren.
Admitting that she had been wrong.
Remembering herself in the meeting room, keeping her head down and refusing to look into Yuma’s eyes.
Everything was terrifying.
Yet, inside her device, his voice remained.
“Reina, run to the left!”
The voice that helped her escape back then.
The hand that extended a pot.
The soup with a bitter medicinal herb sunk just a little beneath the surface.
Reina stood up and opened her device.
The contact info for the audit department was listed in the guild notifications.
Mahiro Saeki.
The assigned auditor.
Reina rewrote the message over and over.
She tried to insert words of apology, then deleted them.
She tried to write excuses, then deleted them.
What remained at the end was only a short sentence.
“I am Reina Shiratori. I possess the auxiliary recording crystal from that time. I am not sure if it counts as formal evidence, but there is something I want you to check.”
She placed her finger on the send button.
She took one deep breath.
And then, she pressed it.
The reply came faster than she expected.
“We will check it tomorrow. Please preserve the recording medium. Do not hand it over to anyone.”
Reina hugged the device to her chest.
She could no longer eat the cold bento.
Instead, she found herself helplessly remembering the warmth of that soup.