The Weight of a Secret

Sovenia leaned against the wall, her eyelids feeling as heavy as lead.

The hearth fire danced, its warmth seeping into her skin, leaving her bones feeling utterly pliant.

Her head began to droop, inch by agonizing inch, until she jolted awake, realizing she had nearly slid to the floor.

‘Damn it,’ she thought. ‘I never used to fall asleep so easily.’

Rising, she paced the room several times.

The stone floor was cool against her bare feet, offering a slight reprieve from her weariness.

By the third circuit, however, the drowsiness persisted, prompting her to stop and touch the tip of her left ear.

“Hiss—”

The wound remained, and the mere touch sent a jolt of pain through her, momentarily dispelling her fatigue.

In this manner, Sovenia endured for another hour.

Once certain that Wawalde, that foolish dog, was utterly lost to slumber, she began her clandestine operation.

Sovenia turned, her gaze settling on the wall opposite the bed.

An inconspicuous stone tile was embedded there; only upon closer inspection did its color appear subtly lighter than its surroundings, its edges bearing faint marks of wear—testaments to decades of her repeated use.

She approached, knelt, and pressed her hand against the stone.

With a gentle push, the tile receded inward, emitting a soft ‘click’.

A seam opened in the wall, revealing a large hidden compartment.

Within lay a golden forging hammer.

Though not excessively large, the hammer’s body was, for her current self, a truly weighty weapon.

Its head was intricately carved with complex runes that glowed faintly in the darkness, pulsating like the heart of a living creature.

This was a vital relic, capable of upgrading her cards.

Sovenia stared at it, then glanced back at the bed.

Wawalde remained asleep.

However, his side-lying posture meant his face was directly angled towards her; should he open his eyes, he would instantly witness her actions.

Sovenia’s heart began to race.

Images of the throne room flashed through her mind.

Wawalde, holy sword raised high, burst forth from the ‘Incineration’ flames, his blade cleaving through the fire as it descended towards her neck; in that fleeting moment, she saw his eyes—golden, alight with hatred and resolve.

Her head had flown from her body.

Sovenia took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing that memory.

She reached out, grasping the hammer’s handle.

The [Blazing Gold Forging Hammer] was heavy, even heavier than she had anticipated.

Exerting all her strength, she slowly dragged it from the hidden compartment.

The grating sound of metal against stone was exceptionally harsh in the profound silence.

Sovenia held her breath, her eyes fixed on Wawalde’s face as she dragged the hammer out, inch by painstaking inch.

‘This foolish dog,’ she cursed inwardly. ‘Why can’t he just lie on his back? Why must he sleep on his side? If he wakes up—’

Finally, the hammer was halfway out of the compartment.

Sovenia tightened her grip on the handle, preparing for one final pull—

Wawalde stirred.

“Don’t—don’t kill her—”

Sovenia’s hand trembled.

The hammer slipped from her grasp, crashing to the floor with a resounding ‘thud’.

The sound exploded in the empty room, akin to a bell tolling right beside her ear.

Sovenia froze, her eyes locked onto Wawalde on the bed.

Her hand hovered in the air, her body taut, ready to draw her sword at a moment’s notice—

Wawalde rolled over, muttering incoherently, “Ellie… don’t… don’t come closer… the fire… it’s too hot…”

His brows were furrowed tightly, and fine beads of sweat dotted his forehead.

His armor grated against the bedsheets, emitting a harsh metallic screech.

“No… no… don’t die…”

Sovenia blinked.

‘Sleep-talking,’ she realized.

Slowly, she lowered her hand, her heartbeat gradually calming.

Wawalde continued, “Jimi… that monster… the Demon Queen… her fire… it can’t be extinguished… can’t be stopped… I’m sorry.”

His voice was laced with a whimper, like a child lost in a nightmare.

Sovenia watched him for a few seconds, a cold sneer twisting her lips.

‘And here I thought this foolish dog had a strong inner spirit.’

‘In the cave earlier, facing the Slime King, he was so remarkably composed.’

‘When I listened to his thoughts before, I found them filled with lewd fantasies about my body.’

‘To be capable of such inappropriate thoughts even in such a perilous situation only proves his excellent psychological fortitude.’

‘Yet here we are?’

‘He has nightmares.’

‘He cries in his sleep.’

Sovenia recalled Wawalde’s reddened eyes during dinner.

‘He must have secretly wept in the bathroom.’

‘A little virgin is just a little virgin,’ she mused. ‘He scared me half to death; I thought he was so resolute. Unlike this King, who would never cry in their dreams. How shameful.’

Sovenia bent down, retrieved the [Blazing Gold Forging Hammer], and hoisted it onto her shoulder.

The hammer’s weight pressed into her shoulder as she tiptoed towards the training room.

The door was ajar; she pushed it open just enough to slip inside sideways.

The training room was vast, its floor etched with the remnants of summoning circles, and its walls adorned with an array of weapons.

The air still carried the lingering scents of sulfur and steel.

Sovenia placed the hammer on the ground and closed her eyes.

Her consciousness delved into the depths of her soul, where she beheld the deck of cards floating in the darkness.

[Blazing Strike] glowed with a silvery light, suspended at the forefront.

Sovenia reached out and grasped the hammer’s handle.

Opening her eyes, she raised the [Blazing Gold Forging Hammer] and swung it through the air.

The hammerhead arced golden, striking an unseen force.

Sparks erupted, the air distorted, and the [Blazing Strike] card shattered and reformed within her mind.

The light intensified dramatically.

New patterns emerged on the card’s surface, the flames burning with greater intensity, their edges now gilded.

[Blazing Strike +1]

Damage increased to 2.5 times attack.

Sovenia lowered the hammer, observing the [Blazing Gold Forging Hammer] as its glow gradually faded in her hand.

The runes on the hammer’s body lost their luster, as if completely depleted of energy.

This item required “recharging” before it could be used again—either by slaying sufficiently powerful enemies or by bringing it to a place rich in magic to absorb energy.

Nevertheless, this was sufficient.

Sovenia tucked the hammer into her [Black Leather Backpack].

The backpack was capacious, almost serving as a travel trunk for her current size.

Shouldering the backpack, she exited the training room.

Upon returning to the bedchamber, Wawalde was still asleep.

He had rolled over, his face buried in the pillow, his breathing now deeper.

Sovenia stood by the doorway for a moment, her head feeling increasingly light.

She had stood guard for another four hours.

When the clock on the wall struck six in the morning, she could finally hold out no longer.

Sovenia approached the bed and reached out, nudging Wawalde’s shoulder.

“Wake up.”

Wawalde groggily opened his eyes, his gaze unfocused, as if he didn’t know where he was.

“…What?”

“I said, wake up,” Sovenia repeated. “It’s your turn to stand guard.”

Wawalde rubbed his eyes and sat up.

His hair was disheveled, and his face bore the imprint of the pillow.

“How long did I sleep?”

“Seven hours.”

“What?!” Wawalde’s voice rose sharply. “You stood guard for seven hours?”

“Yes,” Sovenia stated impassively. “You are the primary fighter; you require ample rest. Now that you’ve rested enough, I shall sleep.”

Without waiting for Wawalde’s reply, she climbed directly into bed, passing over a particular spot.

The covers in this area were warm, imbued with Wawalde’s scent—sweat, metal, and a certain masculine aroma she couldn’t quite define.

Sovenia burrowed under the covers, her head sinking into the pillow.

The sensation was familiar.

She had slept in this bed for decades, knowing even with her eyes closed which parts of the mattress were soft or firm, and exactly how to position the pillow for maximum comfort.

Closing her eyes, her body relaxed as she prepared to dream of her grand ascension to Demon Queen.

“Hiss—”

She had touched the wound on her ear.

Pain, like a needle piercing her brain, made Sovenia sharply draw in a breath, and she gritted her teeth, shifting her head to a different angle.

This time, it was much better.

The covers still held warmth, a residue from Wawalde’s slumber.

A thought flickered through Sovenia’s mind: ‘This is where that foolish dog slept.’

She shifted slightly, then drifted off to sleep.

****

Wawalde stood by the bed, watching Sovenia fall into a deep sleep, noting that she seemed not to mind where he had slept at all.

The mysterious elf princess lay there, her silver hair fanned across the pillow, her face buried in the covers, revealing only half of her profile.

Her breathing was light, as if she feared disturbing someone.

Wawalde sighed, then turned and walked towards the doorway.

He began his watch.

Yet his mind was far from idle.

Recalling the day’s events, he found himself growing increasingly suspicious of this so-called elf princess.

Firstly, Sovenia possessed an intimate knowledge of Jimi the Cruel’s past.

She claimed this was due to her transformation into a combat s*ave, forced to share knowledge.

While this explanation was barely plausible, something about it still felt wrong; she had recounted it with such meticulous detail, as if she had experienced it firsthand.

Secondly, her familiarity with this bedchamber was unsettling.

Wawalde looked towards the fireplace.

Her movements as she lit the fire were fluid and effortless; she kicked a brick, uttered a “click,” and the fire ignited, all as naturally as if she were in her own home.

If she truly was a combat maid forced to serve Jimi, then it was indeed possible for her to be familiar with the place.

‘But…’

‘What about the third point?’

Wawalde glanced at the corner of the wall.

There lay a stone tile, its edges bearing subtle cracks, as if it had been repeatedly opened.

He remembered it clearly.

At two in the morning, while he was caught in a nightmare, he had heard a loud sound, initially believing it to be the Bone-Shattering Heavenly King from his dream’s throne room battle, wielding a giant hammer to crush his dwarf teammates.

Upon waking, he had seen Sovenia crouching by the wall, picking up a golden hammer.

That hammer had been taken from a hidden compartment, and she knew how to open it.

She knew the password.

She knew the mechanism.

She even knew what was hidden inside.

Wawalde’s brows furrowed.

‘These three things, taken together…’

‘Sovenia, who exactly are you?’

He turned his head, looking at the silver-haired elf girl sleeping soundly on the bed.

She was curled up under the covers, her small body appearing utterly unthreatening.

‘But…’

“Mmm… no… don’t…”

Sovenia uttered a series of sounds.

Wawalde paused, startled.

‘She’s talking in her sleep.’

“Don’t… don’t touch me…”

Her voice trembled, as if she were pleading.

“Demon Queen… please… don’t…”

Wawalde’s heart clenched.

“I don’t want… don’t want to hurt… anymore…”

Her body curled even tighter, her hands clutching the covers, knuckles white.

“Let me go… please… I will serve faithfully… just don’t torment me anymore…”

Wawalde stood there, watching her.

Tear tracks streaked her face, her brows were tightly furrowed, and her lips trembled.

“Demon Queen… don’t… don’t use that rule… I will continue to fight loyally for you…”

Wawalde sighed, a wave of pity washing over him. ‘How could I have suspected such a poor girl? I truly have no conscience.’

‘She is so strong, yet she never told him that she had been tormented by the Demon Queen.’

‘Her familiarity with this place wasn’t because she was Jimi’s accomplice.’

‘It was because she was a victim.’

‘She was imprisoned here.’

‘She was forced to serve that monster.’

‘She knew how to light the fire, knew where things were hidden, knew Jimi’s past… simply because she was a useful victim, wasn’t she?’

He watched Sovenia softly weeping in her dream, an indescribable emotion swelling within his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, Miss Sovenia. I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

He turned his back to the bed and began to stand guard earnestly.