Florian barely had time tothink—his body had already started to drop. Instinct overrode logic, legs bending, ready to beg, to plead, to get on his knees if he had to. His mindracedthrough possible excuses, desperate to explain himself, to saysomethingthat might keep whoever grabbed him from dragging him straight to whateverpassedfor a prison in this cursed village.

But then—

He turned.

And the wordsdiedin his throat.

A girl.

Younger than him. Sixteen, maybe seventeen, though something about her—her thin frame, the way she carried herself—made her seem smaller.Fragile.

Pale. Too pale.

Her skin looked almosttranslucentin the dim light, her face gaunt, sunken, like she hadn’t eaten in days. Hollow, dark eyes met his—sharp despite their emptiness, framed by strands of limp black hair clinging to her face.

For a moment, Florian could onlystare. His pulse, which had been hammering wildly with panic,stuttered.

’Who...?’

She didn’t speak.

She didn’texplain.

She justpulled.

Not harshly, not violently—butfirmly.

Dragging him away from the storage unit with silent, unwavering intent.

Florian hesitated. His instincts screamed at him toresist, to yank himself free, to demand answers—but something in him whispered,Follow.

So he did.

His feet stumbled slightly as he fell into step beside her, his mind stillreeling. His breath remained uneven, the putrid scent of rotclawingat his senses, but as they moved—

He noticed.

Thesmell was fading.

The nausea in his gut loosened, the sickly burn in his throat dulling. Each step they took away from that door made the sensation lessen, until finally—

It wasgone.

Florian’s stomach twisted.

The girl hadn’t gagged. Hadn’t flinched.

Hadn’treactedat all.

Like she couldn’t smell it.

Atall.

His throat feltdry.

"What—" His voice cracked. He swallowed hard, tried again. "Who are you?"

She didn’t look at him. Didn’tpause.

But shedidspeak.

"First, tell me what you were doing there."

Her voice was quiet. Steady.Measured.

Florian hesitated. He couldlie—say he was lost, say it was some mistake, some misunderstanding—but if she had alreadyseeneverything, if she hadknownhe was there from the start, wouldn’t lying just make things worse?

So instead, he exhaled slowly.

"I smelled something," he admitted. "Somethinghorrible. It was coming from that storage unit, so I just—I wanted to check it out."

The girl’s griptightenedslightly.

Then, she shook her head.

"There’s no smell."

Florianblinked.

"What?"

"You’re probably just losing your mind." The girl finally glanced at him, her expression unreadable. "It’s your first time in the village, isn’t it?"

His mouth opened—nothing came out at first.

That couldn’t be right.

Heknewwhat he smelled.

Heknewhow it made him sick, how itburnedhis eyes, how itcoatedthe inside of his lungs like filth—

But.

No one else reacted to it.

No one.

The nausea in his gut coiled tighter, sharper. This time, it wasn’t from the stench.

Florian wanted to press. Toargue, to demand an explanation—

But more than anything, he wanted to knowwho this girl was.

She finally stopped walking when they had put enough distance between themselves and the storage unit, turning to face him fully.

Her posture was guarded. Careful.

"That place belongs to the village chief and the elder members," she said. "No one’s allowed near it."

Florian exhaled sharply. "I didn’t know." Running a hand through his hair, he forced down the lingering unease rattling in his chest. "Sorry."

The girl studied him for a moment.

Then, she crossed her arms over her chest.

The movement was sofamiliar—sharp, defensive, but not threatening.

For just a second, Florian was reminded ofKaz.

The memory hit him like a dull ache to the ribs.

He swallowed.

"Who are you?" His gaze flickered over her pale face again. "And why are you out here? You look—" he hesitated, searching for the right word. "Sick."

A pause.

The girl didn’t answer at first.

Then, finally—

"...Leila."

Florian’s breath came in shallow, uneven gasps. His body refused to move.

’This is her.’

Leila.

The name echoed in his skull, louder than it should have, rattling around like a cruel reminder.

His hands went clammy. His chest felt tootight. His throat toodry.

This was Levi’s sister.

The same Levi who had thrown himself into death’s jaws just to get Florian out. The same Levi who had died—brutally, horribly—because of Florian.

His lips parted, but no sound came out. His pulse hammered in his ears, deafening.

She had his eyes.

Now that he wasreallylooking, he could see it—the same sharp, piercing gaze, the same intensity, even if hers were dulled by sickness and exhaustion. ButunlikeLevi, her body lookedfragile. Frail, barely held together, as if the weight of existing was simplytoo much.

Florian feltsick.

His lungs squeezed, and suddenly—

He was back there.

Trapped. Bound. Helpless.

The scent ofbloodthick in the air, clogging his throat. Arthur’s voice, cruel and mocking.

Levi’s breathing—ragged. Desperate.

Then—

Thebranches.

Dozens of them.Piercingthrough flesh, throughbone.

Levi’sscream—raw, broken—still clung to the edges of Florian’s memory, like a wound that refused toclose.

His stomachlurched.

A sharp inhale cut through the haze.

Leila shifted, tilting her head slightly.

"...What’s wrong?"

Florian barely registered the question. His throat wastoo dry, his chesttoo tight.

"I—" His voice cracked. He swallowed, forcing the words out.

"I’m sorry."

Leilastiffened.

Florian dropped his gaze. His hands clenched at his sides, nails biting into his palms.

"I’m sorry," he whispered again. And again.And again.

Because whatelsecould he say?

How could he tell her?

’Your brother saved me. And I let him die.’

The wordscurledinside his skull like a curse.

He had norightto stand in front of her.

’I thought I could do this. I thought I could just apologize and help. But seeing her now...fuck.’

The guilt he had spent the past few daysshoving down, the same guilt that had beeneating him alive, was back in full force—crawling up his throat like bile.

Leila’s voice pulled him back.

"Why are you apologizing?" Her expression shifted—uncertainty flickering in her dark eyes. "My... brother sent you, didn’t he?" A pause. A hesitation.

Then—

"What... happened?"

Florianlookedat her.

She was waiting.Expectingsomething.

She didn’tknow.

The realization sent a fresh, vicious stab of pain through his chest.

He had to calm himself.Now.He had to tell her. Shedeservedto know.

He wasn’t the one who had lost everything.

He wasn’t thevictim.

So he forced himself to breathe.

In.

Out.

Again.Again.

Finally, he found his voice.

"I have to tell you something."

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by lotustale.com