The scene in the room twisted.
A singular path appeared on a very flat piece of land.
A path covered in blood.
“……”
Hestia gazed at the hourglass floating in the air above the path.
The sand within the hourglass flowed without hesitation. Hestia felt she understood what the passage of time in this hourglass meant.
If she didn’t decide what choice to make while all this time flowed, she’d remain stuck in this world.
Hestia slowly lifted her body from where she was slumped.
And she pondered while looking at the hourglass.
Should she walk the bloody path that seemed to lead to ‘truth’, or not?
Logically speaking, if this place was really a dream, then heading straight down that path to escape this world would be the best and correct choice.
But just as humans are not purely rational beings, Cat-Folk were also not entirely rational.
Happiness.
A world where none of her family were dead.
Perhaps, a world where they would never die.
A seemingly perfect dream.
But clearly, it would be a world without any changes at all.
Suddenly, Hestia recalled a saying her father often told her.
– It’s okay if your hands get a bit dirty.
– If you’ve grown up a little, it doesn’t matter.
– If you’re too pristine and unscarred, it just means you’ve done nothing at all.
Hestia remembered the moment she had beaten her father in a duel yesterday.
Surely, that was proof that she hadn’t wasted her life in reality.
She moved forward.
Hestia took a deep breath.
And slowly lifted her right foot onto the crimson path.
Just before stepping on the path.
“Are you going?”
A voice called out.
Hestia quickly turned her head to the right.
Long orange hair tied in two pigtails.
And green eyes.
It was her younger sister, Peln.
“Sis.”
Next to Peln stood her younger brother, Kailon.
“Take care.”
Her mother’s words.
“I’m sorry.”
Her father’s words.
Using [Nightmare] ultimately drew upon the subject’s memories.
So, their family didn’t utter any nightmarish words.
A grin spread across Hestia’s face.
And she took a step forward.
Walking on the blood-soaked path. With each step, a wave of red rippled around her.
The figures of her family around her faded.
With every step she took, the pieces of the puzzle that hadn’t fit together slowly started to align.
Hestia easily grasped what the final gate she needed to step on to escape this dream was.
Enduring memories that strike like lightning. That alone was both a curse and a gateway.
The solitary mountain training.
On the way back from that mountain training, the village ablaze like an ocean of fire.
Rushing frantically toward the village.
First, the bandits had already fled.
Heads rolling on the ground.
A hellish scene visible from the opened doors of a house.
Dead younger siblings.
Parents lying dead in the backyard.
All those moments. She had to see them more clearly than the fleeting images in her mind.
Hestia’s body slowly leaned forward.
A profound loneliness wrapped around her entire being.
Sweat poured down like rain all over her body, and her breath smelled strongly of blood.
The path of blood.
In that blood, her past self appeared.
Hestia, continuing her solitary training in swordsmanship.
One year, two years, three years.
Time flowed.
In Hestia’s hand was a sharply honed sword.
She slaughtered thirty bandits alone.
Having mostly annihilated the bandits that massacred the Cat-Folk village of Runwood, Hestia asked how they killed her father, a warrior greater than herself.
The bandit leader, showing a mouth full of yellow teeth, spoke bluntly.
“Well, it was easy. We took your mother hostage. We also took your blood relatives hostage. We chopped off your arms first, so naturally, it went downhill from there.”
At those words, Hestia cut off the bandit leader’s arms. Then she severed his legs before taking his head.
Thus, she avenged her family and villagers.
And even after her revenge, Hestia harbored hatred for the human race.
She doubted the morality and sincerity of the species.
Half a year passed.
Hestia barely managed to kill an ogre but received a severe injury to her abdomen.
She lost consciousness while bleeding too much.
When Hestia opened her eyes again, there stood a boy before her.
Despite the intense pain radiating from her bandaged abdomen, Hestia sprang up without hesitation.
Sleek!
And without a shred of doubt, she held the sword she drew from the floor against the neck of the brown-haired boy.
A thin line of blood was etched against the blade.
“…A-Are you okay? Is your wound alright?”
Instead of scolding the person who saved her life, Haruk was asking about Hestia’s injury.
Hestia, staggering forward along the blood-soaked path due to heavy fatigue, finally straightened her bent back.
‘Now I understand.’
Yuma. It had been a while since that first moment of meeting Hestia.
Now, she understood why she felt so scared and compelled to find Haruk.
Scared out of his mind, but finally understanding, Haruk slowly began to move Hestia’s battered spirit.
Not to despise the human race for what it is.
Duke Yuma nodded slowly, watching Hestia trudging along the bloody path as she reflected on her life.
He thought of something—his own not-so-distant past.
*
A man spoke to a woman.
“Hey, Hee-yeon, you acted really well. Instead of clear anger, try some subtle frustration… hmm, emphasize the sigh, yeah.”
The woman smiled and nodded.
“Yes, senior.”
They had rented the only store on campus that closed early, where college students were shooting a film.
The man was filming a project for graduation.
After wrapping up the day’s shoot, a male colleague approached him.
“Hey, for a graduation project, you’re really going all out, huh?”
The man chuckled.
“Of course I gotta do it right.”
As he was tidying up the props and camera, his phone rang. He picked it up.
Checking the screen, it read ‘Mom’ before he answered.
“Yes, Mom?”
– Did you eat?
“Yeah.”
– You’re coming down for winter break, right, son?
“Yeah, I have to.”
– Come on, it’s been two months—it’s a bit harsh not to show your face!
“I’ll come, I promise.”
He hung up.
A day passed. The man was filming again, capturing the nighttime scenery, working hard late into the evening.
His phone rang again.
This time, he saw ‘Mom’ on the caller ID and answered.
– Um… are you Kim Se-yeon’s son?
What the…?
The man’s brow furrowed.
“Yes, that’s me.”
– Your mother has been in an accident caused by a drunk driver… H-hurry to the hospital.
He hopped into a taxi, rushing to the hospital.
“She just passed away.”
After the funeral, the man did nothing for six months. He submitted his incomplete graduation project, and that was it—nothing about his mother’s incident.
“Son.”
His father pulled him up from the couch, where he had been glued to movies.
“Let’s go fishing.”
So, the man went fishing with his father.
The man went fishing with his father.
Without a word.
Splash…
The fishing line caused ripples in the sea.
The bass caught by his father became spicy stew at the restaurant by the sea.
Only then did his father finally say the first word of the journey.
“Have you given up on movies?”
“I don’t know.”
“Try again.”
With that, his father closed his mouth again.
The man couldn’t follow his father’s advice.
“You graduated from film school, right? So, was your dream to be a director?”
“Yeah.”
“Hmm, why did you apply as an editor then?”
“Right now, I just can’t bring myself to work on film.”
He got a job.
It was an advertising agency.
Time didn’t heal the breakup.
He merely forced himself to get back up, even if just a little.
He worked at the company for three years.
Just the same. Commuting became a routine.
One night, a friend called.
“But have you given up on movies?”
“For now.”
“Oh… So you have given up. Well, you’re not the type to just quit.”
He couldn’t tell them he was jotting down scripts every time he died in a Souls-like game.
[Film Script Submission]
If he confessed and didn’t make it, he’d have to explain his failure the next time they met.
*
Duke Yuma finished his brief recollection.
It was a memory just before he was reincarnated into this world.
Hestia was still walking the bloody path, facing her past.
She had overcome it once, but piercing through the vividly unfolding hellscape was another story.
‘Right.’
One, Hestia’s steps did not stop.
‘Though one can be saved by others…’
Her back, which was slightly hunched, began to straighten completely.
‘The first step towards that salvation can only be taken by oneself.’
Hestia stopped walking.
The long staircase of blood she had traversed began to crumble slowly.
Hestia had completely shaken off the world of [Nightmare].
She chose reality, giving up on remaining in the world of happiness.
Whoosh—
Hestia opened her eyes wide at the gentle breeze blowing.
Tears inexplicably gathered at the corners of her eyes.
Something appeared in her view.
A vaguely gray silhouette slowly took on a human form.
Now, a familiar face appeared before her, recognized through the memories that had returned.
“Y-Yuma?”
“It’s time to wake up, Hestia.”
Hestia wiped her tears away.
“Yeah.”
Then, she smiled brightly.
“Your handwriting isn’t great, Yuma.”
