He Who Walks the Grave

The more Kazuya learned about Eldora, the more he realized just how suffocatingly strict the kingdom was. Every street corner was watched, every transaction scrutinized, and every citizen bound by an unspoken fear of stepping out of line. This wasn't just a medieval society with strict laws—this was control, refined and enforced with ruthless precision.

Eldora was a kingdom built on power and fear. It was evident in the way commoners avoided eye contact with knights, in how merchants hesitated before accepting foreign coin, and in the quiet, careful way the people spoke when discussing the royal family. Kazuya saw it everywhere now—how obedience was instinctual, ingrained in the populace as a necessity for survival.

As he and Lilith weaved through the crowded streets, he kept his head down, not wanting to draw unwanted attention. His social skills—or rather, his lack thereof—only made things worse. He wasn't good at talking to people, didn't understand how to act natural in this environment, and worst of all, he didn't care to try.

Lilith noticed, of course. She always did.

"You're acting suspicious again," she muttered, walking slightly ahead of him. "If you keep looking like a lost child, someone's going to think you stole something."

Kazuya exhaled sharply. "It's not my fault. I don't know how to…blend in."

"It's not that hard," she said, rolling her eyes. "Just act like you have somewhere to be, even if you don't."

He tried. He really did. But the stiffness in his movements, the way he hesitated before responding to people, and his complete unwillingness to engage in unnecessary small talk all made him stand out. He was a foreign presence in a world that demanded conformity, and it was only a matter of time before someone took notice.

Eldora's strictness wasn't just about keeping the people in line—it was about preserving absolute order. Kazuya learned this firsthand when he and Lilith passed a small commotion near the town square. A man, ragged and dirt-streaked, was being dragged by two armored knights, his wrists shackled by thick iron cuffs.

A crowd had gathered, watching in silence. No one spoke, no one interfered. They simply stood, observing the scene with a grim resignation.

"What did he do?" Kazuya whispered.

Lilith's expression darkened. "Does it matter?"

Kazuya clenched his jaw. Of course, it mattered. The man had barely been struggling, his body frail and thin. Whatever crime he committed, it couldn't have been much. And yet, the knights treated him like he was a dangerous criminal.

One of the knights finally addressed the crowd. "This man is guilty of stealing from a noble estate. As decreed by King Aldric, theft against the noble class is punishable by removal of a hand."

Kazuya stiffened. The crowd remained silent.

Lilith placed a hand on his arm. "Don't do anything stupid."

"I wasn't planning on it," he lied.

The knights wasted no time. Without hesitation, they forced the man's arm onto a wooden block. The executioner, clad in dull iron, raised a heavy axe.

Kazuya turned away before the blade fell.

He didn't have to see it to hear the sickening crunch of bone.

The man's scream was brief. He passed out before it could continue.

The knights carried him off without ceremony. The crowd dispersed just as quickly, as if nothing had happened at all.

Kazuya felt sick. "They didn't even hesitate."

Lilith's voice was quiet. "They never do."

This wasn't a kingdom—it was a machine. A machine that crushed anyone who didn't fit its rigid mold.

Kazuya wasn't good with people. He never had been, and Eldora's oppressive atmosphere only made it worse.

Every time he tried to interact with someone new, he felt the disconnect—a wall between him and the rest of the world. Conversations felt forced, interactions exhausting. He spoke when necessary, but never more than that. He avoided unnecessary contact, kept his voice low, and distanced himself whenever possible.

Lilith, on the other hand, was the opposite. She could blend in anywhere, navigate conversations with ease, and adapt to any situation. It annoyed Kazuya how natural it was for her, how she could talk to anyone without hesitation.

"Why are you like this?" he asked one evening.

Lilith glanced at him from where she sat, sharpening her dagger. "Like what?"

"Good at…people."

She smirked. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"It's just…hard." Kazuya looked down at his hands. "I don't know how to talk to people the way you do."

Lilith studied him for a moment before sighing. "You're not used to trusting people. That's your problem."

"Trust?" He scoffed. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Everything." She leaned back against the wall. "You hold back in every conversation, like you're waiting for something bad to happen. People notice that. It makes them uneasy."

Kazuya frowned. Was it that obvious?

Lilith's expression softened—just a little. "You don't have to be like me. But if you want to survive here, you need to learn how to stop making people think you're hiding something."

"…I don't know if I can."

She shrugged. "Then fake it."

Kazuya had always thought of himself as someone who could just slip by unnoticed. Someone who could move through life without anyone paying him any mind. But in Eldora, that wasn't possible. Here, you either followed the rules or you became a target.

Lilith was right—people could smell desperation. And right now, he reeked of it.

Eldora was not a place where he could afford to be himself.

If he wanted to survive, he had to learn how to play the game.

Even if it meant becoming something he wasn't.