A Background Character’s Path to Power

I was stunned by her words and smile.

But I quickly recovered and returned her smile.

"No, thank you," I said. "For trusting me, for sharing something so precious and painful with me. I know how much courage it must have taken to open those wounds again."

I leaned forward a bit, my voice gentle but firm. "And I want you to know that what you have been through doesn't define your worth. You survived something that would have broken most people, and you did it alone. That takes incredible strength and patience."

I paused, letting the sincerity in my words settle between us.

"You are not a commodity, Cassandra. You are not a failed product or a mistake. You are a person who deserves all the love and care you were denied, and I... I'm happy that you trusted me enough to let me understand who you really are."

The tears on her cheeks caught the soft light in the room, and I could feel through the fading connection that something fundamental had shifted between us - a bridge built from shared pain and mutual understanding, stronger than any words could have created alone.

But why is she still crying?!

Urgh, I didn't upset her or anything, right? I didn't say anything wrong, right? Right?

But I didn't stop her. I didn't say anything because I knew it was better to let her release all those emotions she had kept bottled up for so many years.

And I knew that sometimes tears weren't all about sadness or happiness. They were sometimes about relief, about finally being heard and understood after a lifetime of silence. They were about the overwhelming feeling of no longer carrying the burden alone.

So I simply sat there, maintaining that gentle, supporting smile, letting her know through my presence that it was safe to cry, safe to feel, safe to be vulnerable without the fear of judgment or rejection.

The connection between us might have been fading, but the understanding we'd built would remain.

For perhaps the first time in her life, Cassandra had someone who truly knew her story, not the carefully constructed facade she showed to the world, but the real person beneath all that pain and survival.

I would wait as long as she needed.

After years of having her emotions dismissed, suppressed, or ignored, she deserved to have someone who would simply be present while she processed everything that had just been shared between us.

....

Minutes passed in comfortable silence.

Gradually, Cassandra's tears began to slow. Her breathing became steadier, though her shoulders still trembled slightly.

She took a few, shaky breaths, and then finally lifted her head. Her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, but the raw anguish that had consumed her earlier seemed to have settled into something quieter.

Without thinking, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a clean handkerchief, offering it to her across the table.

She looked at it for a moment, then at me, before accepting it with her still trembling fingers.

"Thank you..." She whispered, dabbing carefully her cheeks and eyes.

Thankfully, I managed to control myself on time and handed it to her, or else the situation might have become really awkward.

When she was done, she folded it neatly on her lap, her movements precise despite her emotional state.

"I... I'm sorry." She said, her voice slightly hoarse from crying. "You shouldn't have to see such an unsightly sight from me. That was-"

"No," I firmly shook my head. "There's nothing to apologize for. Nothing unsightly at all. If anything... I think it was beautiful, in its raw honesty."

I held her gaze, making sure she understood every word. "You've spent your whole life being strong, and what I just saw just now was a strength of a different kind."

A quiet sniffle escaped her as she held the handkerchief tighter. For a moment, I thought she would retreat behind her walls, and she did, but in a good way.

She laughed.

A watery soft sound that carried exhaustion and something close to relief.

"Woah," she murmured, wiping her cheeks again. "I must look absolutely dreadful."

Her casual self-deprecation after such an intense moment made me grin. "Well, if it helps, you still look better crying than most people do on their best days, me for example. If I could take a picture of you, I would become a millionaire just by selling them, you know."

She chuckled, and I also did. We both laughed.

"Really?" She asked, a hint of amusement and assessment flickering in her still watery eyes.

"Yeah," I nodded with a confident smile. "But although it would be a lot tempting, I wouldn't do that."

"Why?" She tilted her head, curiosity replacing some of the lingering sadness.

"Well, because I-I..." I started, and then went silent, the words catching in my throat.

Because I don't want others to see you like this. Because these moments, this vulnerability, this real you, or even the usual you, it's something precious that shouldn't be shared with the world.

Because...

Because the thought of strangers looking at you, even in admiration, makes something stir in my chest that I don't quite understand yet.

...Or simply stopping myself from understanding it.

Urgh...

There's no way I could say any of that out loud.

It was too embarrassing and... complicated.

So I shrugged, offering her a lopsided grin instead. "Because... I'd rather keep my head attached to my shoulders, thanks. I have a feeling you'd hunt me down if I tried."

We laughed again.

"Do you really see that way?" She grinned back. "Am I that terrifying to you?"

"...Yep," I said without batting an eye.

Considering how my covers, skills, and abilities were ineffective against her, yeah, she was really terrifying.

"You-!" She glared at me. "You really learned how to tease back now, huh? First at the city, then at the inn, then at the gates, and now. You..."

"You are impossible." She finished, but the way her lips twitched betrayed her amusement.

"Well, I won't deny that," I smirked. "But aren't you the same?"

"Haha, you're right," She chuckled.

"..."

"We really are the same..."