The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound

Chapter 292: Confessions (2)

Chapter 292: Confessions (2)

The night sky was turning blue.

A small knocking sound echoed in the hallway in the dark early morning.

Click-click-click!

The sound of the doorknob turning is low.

But even so, the door didn't open immediately.

Vikir looked around for a moment.

The girls' dormitory was eerily quiet at night.

There's a faint smell of footsteps or improperly dried laundry, snoring that can be heard even through the closed door, and shared lockers that show signs of destruction.

All in all, it's a scene not unlike the hallways of a fraternity house.

Vikir double-checks that no one else is awake.

Hmm...

The door opened softly and shyly.

"Hyung-ah?"

Sinclair stuck her head out from inside.

Seeing the look on Vikir's face, Sinclair smiled widely and said in a low voice.

"Come on in."

The door swung open and the warm air inside felt good against his skin.

The room, smelling sweetly of some unknown berry, wasn't very decorated, but it seemed quite serene with a few decorative items that gave it a cozy, antique feel.

"Bianca, aren't you in the same room?"

"I think she was sleeping in another friend's room. She's not really on speaking terms with me lately."

"I thought you two were best friends, why all of a sudden."

"...It's just. It's all my fault. Hehe-"

Sinclair greeted Vikir with a cool smile.

She was wearing a white T-shirt and pink dolphin pants and had a wet towel around her neck.

Her short, still-dry hair smelled faintly of shampoo.

"Come on, hyung-ah!"

Sinclair threw something at Vikir.

Vikir caught it out of the corner of his eye and realized it was a can of beer with cold droplets on the surface.

Sinclair smirked and pulled out the snacks.

"It's getting late, so we can't eat. Please bear with me even if the snacks are a bit meager."

"No problem."

"Good. By the way, are you good at board games?"

Sinclair clapped her hands and pulled out various board games from under the bed.

Simple games with simple rules, like Jenga, RummyCube, and Uno.

"How is it? Would you like to play for the first time in a while?"

"...It's been a while."

Vikir nodded.

Board games were something he'd played tirelessly with his comrades in the Internal Affairs Squad before the regression.

But for some reason, the memories of that time came before the memories of his old volunteer work at the orphanage.

'I must have gotten dull,'

Vikir realized how much things had changed since his regression.

Both in his surroundings and in himself.

Whoosh.

Sinclair ran her hands through her hair as she looked at the crumbling Jenga.

"Ah~ Really. Why does it always have to be me!"

"It's all about the center of gravity. If you don't lean to one side or the other and keep your center, you'll never fall."

"Tch. Easier said than done."

Sinclair pouted her lips and stacked the next jenga, only to knock it down again shortly thereafter.

"Hyung-ah, I can't play board games with you, I swear. Why are you so good? You look like you've been doing this since you were a kid."

"There was a time like that."

"Huh?"

Sinclair's eyes widen like rabbits.

Instead of answering, Vikir simply closed his eyes in silence.

Soon, the number of empty cans of beer crinkling together began to increase.

Sinclair's expression relaxes slightly as she sobered up.

The reddish blush on his exceptionally white skin was deepening.

"I want to go see the Milky Way."

Sinclair mumbles, and Vikir thinks for a moment.

'When I'm feeling down, I always come here and look at the Milky Way.'

This is what Sinclair once said.

'Now that I think about it, this girl said she goes to the rooftop if he has any worries.'

Drinking canned beer on the roof with a clear view of the Milky Way was probably Sinclair's only stress relief.

But now that Milky Way viewing spot is off-limits.

Student Body President Dolores has personally blocked it off.

"...It was our meeting point while we prepared to hunt Belial.'

Vikir stroked his chin, then spoke in a low voice.

"You must be disappointed that Student Council President Dolores blocked the rooftop."

For a moment, Sinclair noticeably flinched at the mention of Dolores' name.

Her eyes, as wide and clear as a lake, looked deep for a moment.

Vikir didn't miss the agitation.

"What happened with the student council president?"

Vikir asked again.

There was no way Vikir didn't know what had happened in Bourgeois the day before.

But there was something strange about it, and he wanted to go over it again.

'I thought you weren't the kind of character who'd have a mental breakdown just from witnessing a demon and a demon hunter fight.'

Vikir looked at Sinclair with a bit of disbelief.

Sinclair, however, kept her head down and remained silent, mute.

"...."

"...."

Silence settled over the room. Vikir waited patiently, carrying a heavy silence.

Finally, the answer came.

"I'm planning to drop out."

It was so unexpected, so far from the intent of the question, that even Vikir's eyes widened.

'What? In the world before the regression, Sinclair would have dutifully completed all four years and graduated from the Academy....'

Literally.

Sinclair is an Alpha Girl who hasn't missed a beat since her freshman year, when she was ranked first in her class, until her senior year.

Along the way, she has risen to the position of vice-president as a sophomore and student council president as a senior, only to disappear from the world as soon as she finishes her senior year and graduates from the Academy.

But now the reality has changed.

Sinclair has announced her dropout just before the end of her freshman year, with only one final exam to go.

"Of course, I haven't told anyone yet. Hyung-ah is the first person I'm telling."

Sinclair smiled weakly.

Vikir asked briefly.

"Is it because of the student council president?"

"No, it has nothing to do with the president, of course. It's just that I'm so exhausted and tired...."

It was obvious that Sinclair was lying.

Vikir knew that before her regression, she had graduated straight and at the top of her class from freshman to senior year without taking a single leave of absence.

"I think it was burnout. I've been wanting to quit school for a while now, so I've been acting cold to the kids on purpose to keep them away and...."

Sinclair continued.

But Vikir didn't listen to her.

He just cut to the chase.

"Apparently, you had a problem with Student Council President Dolores."

"Uh, no. It's just that I'm a little...."

"Is it because of what happened at Bourgeois?"

For a moment, Sinclair's expression hardened before Vikir could finish his sentence.

'Of course.'

Vikir realized he'd hit the nail on the head.

It had happened in Bourgeois. The night of the hunt for the 6th corpse, Belial.

Sinclair looked particularly shaken.

"Oh, no, nothing happened that day...."

She waved her hands in the air in great embarrassment.

But.

Tuck-

Vikir wordlessly reaches out and grabs both of Sinclair's hands.

"What happened."

"...!"

"What's got you in so much pain."

"...."

Sinclair's pupils dilate for a moment, then tremble slightly.

Seeing it, Vikir was once again convinced.

Demon battles are always a terrible memory for humans.

The more high ranking the demon, the longer and more intense the battle.

Vikir was no stranger to this type of counseling, having seen many of his comrades-in-arms suffer severe after-effects after demon hunting.

'If it's post-battle trauma, I can help you overcome it.'

Vikir didn't want Sinclair to go into hiding from the world when she could be a great help to the Human Alliance in the future.

But.

Sinclair's next words were certainly not what Vikir was expecting.

"...He killed."

"What?"

Vikir asked, and Sinclair spoke again, her voice shaking violently, her pronunciation uncharacteristically inaccurate and slurred.

"Night Hound killed my father."

Hearing those words sent a bolt of lightning through Vikir's head.

There was only one thing Night Hound had killed that night when it had bitten Bourgeois from within, and that was Belial.

And the human body it had taken, the host. It was none other than Bartolomeo, patriarch of the Bourgeois family.

'That means....'

Vikir began, trying to organize his many thoughts and open his mouth to say something.

Walag-

A weight leapt into his arms.

Sinclair leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Vikir's body.

The warmth on Vikir chest suggests that Sinclair has been crying.

Vikir froze in place, unable to push her away or hold her.

"...."

"...."

They stayed like that for what seemed like forever.

...How much time had passed?

Eventually, Sinclair's trembling gradually subsided.

The hound's mouth was half open, but he hadn't yet found the words to say to the lamb that had burrowed into his arms.

Just then.

Sinclair lifted her head from burying it in Vikir's arms and looked up.

"Now it's your turn to answer."

And then, with watery eyes and a trembling voice, she asked.

"...What do you think of me, hyung-ah?"