I learned a lesson.
If I want to end my life, I need to do it quietly, with no one around.
I stared into the void as memories of recent events played in my mind.
"Does this world run on some kind of reputation system? Does public perception somehow affect reality?"
No.
Now's not the time to ponder pointless things or try to understand the nature of the world I was summoned into without consent.
Now is the time to act—quickly.
I must die!
So, I tried to bite my tongue off.
But I realized… I wouldn't succeed.
—"Shit, I'm not alone," I muttered.
In the corner of the room, barely lit by a magical lamp that gave off a faint blue glow, stood two figures: one clad in armor that shone as if ready for a parade, and the other—a hooded, hunched figure with a curvy silhouette that practically screamed "mysterious and unapproachable."
—We present ourselves, Hero. We are your servants, assigned to ensure your safety until you're strong enough to swim against the tide of chaos that threatens this world.
So, it seems my suspicions were correct.
After being stabbed and falling unconscious, I'd woken up three days later—just in time to attend the funeral of one of my fellow heroes.
—Do not be disheartened, Hero. It wasn't your fault.
Apparently, he broke his neck trying to jump just like I did… Lucky bastard.
If I could, I'd wish to reverse his death—or better yet, exchange his life for mine using some kind of forbidden sacrificial magic.
—How dare he die just like that? I can't let anyone else die before my eyes. It's not fair — I muttered resolutely.
Yes, otherwise it feels like the world is slapping me in the face, saying, "You're meant to watch others get what you can't," or"Look at that—that's how it's done. He managed it."
I wouldn't really mind a slap here and there… But it does bruise that barely-existent pride that every thinking idiot possesses.This isn't just about dying to avoid living anymore—now it's personal.
After all, anyone should be able to die if they truly want to, right?
Why am I the only exception?
Not even the third attempt did the trick.
"What did I ever do to deserve this fate? Is there anyone more pathetic than me?" Probably. Plenty. Just a touch of melodrama, that's all.
I clenched my teeth and fists in frustration so hard that my nails pierced my skin and made me tremble slightly.
......
—It was quite a spectacle, that summoning day— sigh
—Don't even remind me. What kind of hero dies in such a stupid way? How shameful. The other heroes say he jumped after muttering something like, 'I won't let him hog all the spotlight.' Ridiculous. What childish behavior. Did he not realize this wasn't some playground? Meanwhile, the other hero acted selflessly, saving a citizen and standing up to the criminals. What a waste of resources and life-force. I sacrificed ten years of my life to summon each of them. What a disappointment. I should've put more effort into the questions I asked before bringing them here. It was my mistake. And you know what bothers me the most? He still ended up stealing the spotlight! And now there's a rumor spreading that the citizens are doubting all the summoned heroes! What a disaster. And now they're giving him a damn honorary burial— said Sharllock, a skilled 25-year-old mage, venting her frustration to the warrior Steve as they both looked toward the direction of the sleeping hero.
Despite being only 25, her white hair and wrinkled skin made her look closer to sixty.
Then again, by life expectancy standards, she was now 155 years old—with only a few years left to live unless she found a way to extend her lifespan. Which wasn't easy.
There was one simple method she could try… But it involved taking those years from someone else. And that someone had to be completely willing to give them up—purely, from the heart. Not even mind control magic could help. How could it possibly be that simple?
—It can't be helped. That hero seemed very young. At that age, it's natural to seek recognition and honor. That's the impulsive stage of life— said Steve.
—Honor and recognition? Are you saying he jumped from twenty-five meters for honor? There's a big difference between that and acting out of pure impulse and stupidity— Sharllock replied.
As they debated the difference between a knight's and a mage's view on life—and the eternal argument of honor vs. idiocy —the hero in the bed woke up.
He quickly noticed them. They approached cautiously and knelt—not out of duty to a hero, but out of respect and admiration for his character and actions.
They say first impressions matter most, right? And this hero made one hell of an impression.
After informing him about the death of one of his fellow heroes, both the knight and the mage couldn't hide their surprise at his reaction.
In that calm face, they could see a storm of emotions swirling beneath: rage, guilt, frustration, sorrow, regret…
The blood soaking through the white sheets from his fists was a clear sign—he was struggling to stay composed, feeling deep pain and anguish over the death of someone he'd barely just met.
—What a noble heart! That sense of camaraderie—I understand it. I've felt it since the start of my military life, thought the knight, Steve.
—What a noble heart, Sharllock thought. Even in a world this cruel, his heart hasn't been corrupted by selfishness or self-interest.
How could someone like this live comfortably? People like him, no matter how brightly they shine, are destined to be used by others.It's like the faint glow of a firefly in a dark forest.
Sharllock sighed and cast a healing spell on the hero's hands.
—Come, Hero. The farewell ceremony is about to begin.
Originally, she hadn't planned to attend—for everyone's sake. She knew that if she went, she wouldn't be able to control herself. She'd say things she shouldn't… Maybe even spit on the hero's coffin.
But as if fate itself had intervened… the hero woke up.
She couldn't allow herself to be driven by emotion.
She had to think about the hero's emotional healing now.