Shameless One

Shun and Silver strolled side by side through the bustling yet harmonious streets of Haven, their pace unhurried but steady. Since the conclusion of the Interacademy Ethereal Combat Tournament, it had been some time since they'd had any moments alone. Winning the tournament didn't just crown them champions, affirming their strength among their generation, but it also saddled them with heavier responsibilities than they had ever borne before.

As Shun glanced around, he noticed the smiling faces of the people—a sight that had once filled him with envy as a child. But now, those smiles no longer seemed arrogant or irritating. They carried a warmth he could almost appreciate.

"Haven is a remarkable city, isn't it?" Silver asked, her voice light but laced with wonder. She too was captivated by the lively streets. As the ninth complete ethereal warrior, she had as little free time as Shun.

"There's no war, no strife, no looming fears—hope radiates from every corner."

Shun inhaled deeply, sensing a faint trace of sorrow in her words, a sentiment rarely present in Silver's usual tone.

"Yeah, it is a great city," Shun replied, his voice thoughtful. "But the more I see, the more I wonder what it really took to create such harmony."

Haven was prosperous and peaceful—a place where people could walk freely with smiles on their faces. But Shun knew that not all cities in Lordrixis shared the same fate. In certain regions, people endured suffering far worse than he had ever known. Compared to those places, even the harsh memories of Waveston seemed less dire.

He had survived, and now, unlike many, he had a future. But survival alone wasn't enough to make him forgive the world.

Suffering, in any form, was still suffering. The fact that others endured greater pain did not erase the weight of his own.

Silver's pace slowed, her voice deepening with a heaviness that caught Shun's attention. "In the end, it's the result that matters. No one cares about the process or intentions."

"At least we live in a place where people can smile. That's more than most can ask for."

Shun turned to her, mildly surprised by her words. "I didn't expect to hear that from you."

Silver forced a smile, but her emotions rang truer than her expression. "After facing real despair, you start cherishing any glimmer of hope. I wish this moment could last forever."

"I hope that every day, we can walk these same streets, surrounded by smiles, oblivious to pain and suffering."

Shun raised an eyebrow, finding her outlook intriguingly different from his own. If anyone else had said such things, he might have buried a seed of resentment in his heart. But Silver Iricson wasn't just anyone. She was the one who had shown him that the world wasn't as irredeemable as he once thought.

"What kind of despair have you experienced, Silver?" he murmured, his steps slowing.

Silver shook her head, realizing she had spoken too much. "That's something a friend of mine used to say. Don't dwell on it."

"Your friend?"

A pause lingered before she answered. "Yeah, she died not too long ago."

Shun hesitated. "I'm… sorry."

"Sorry." It was a word so often used to escape consequence or conceal fear. But this time, Shun meant it with a depth of sincerity he rarely expressed.

"Silver," he said softly.

"Hm?" she responded, her gaze distant but attentive.

"If this peace were shattered, would you be sad?"

"Yes, but not for the world," she said after a brief silence. "For the people."

Her words hit Shun like a blow to the chest, compressing something deep inside him. He wasn't sure why her response affected him so strongly.

"What if…" Shun started, his voice trailing off, "What if even after peace is gone, we could still walk these streets together, content and untouched by the suffering of others?"

"I could live with that," she admitted, "but I'd rather things stay the way they are. If it were up to me, I'd wish for everyone to walk happily, free from pain. But that's an ideal, not reality."

Shun nodded in agreement. He knew, as she did, that people often find joy in the suffering of others, a twisted satisfaction that comes from knowing their own lives aren't the worst. If no one suffered, could anyone truly feel happiness?

"If you had to choose between happiness and peace, which would it be?"

She paused, considering his question. "That's hard to say… I'll think about it and tell you in the future."

"Silver," Shun said again, this time more hesitantly.

"Hm?"

"What do you think of me?"

Silver didn't hesitate. "I think you have a good heart."

Shun let out a bitter laugh. The things he had done, the things he would still have to do, were far beyond what a 'good heart' could excuse.

Guilt, shame, and responsibility weighed on him like chains. And he knew better than anyone how far he had strayed from that goodness.

Shun was a bad person, bad beyond belief, he knew, he just didn't care.

"What if I'm not?" he challenged. "What if I'm worse than anyone could imagine—worse than Tyrant Kolgwyn himself?"

"You won't be," she replied, calm and assured. "I know that for certain."

"What if I am? Would you still stand by me then?"

"I would," she said without hesitation.

"Why?"

"Because I would make you find that good heart again."

Shun stopped in his tracks, unable to control his expression. He lowered his head, trying to hide his face from the crowd, from Silver, and from himself. Something lodged in his throat, choking him, making it difficult to breathe.

Silver halted beside him, silent but present. Shun couldn't see her, but he felt her nearness, steady and unwavering.

"Silver…" he whispered, his voice rough.

"Hm?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. "… It's nothing."

"Let's keep going."

He wanted to continue the conversation, to ask the questions that burned inside him. But he couldn't afford the answers. He knew that if he kept pushing, Silver's words might shatter whatever remained of his defences.

And if there was one thing Shun feared, it was exposing his vulnerability. He despised tears, and had sworn long ago never to be moved by emotions again. Emotions only dragged him down, tethering him to the helpless orphan he once was.

But no matter how much he fought it, emotions stirred within him now—quiet, insistent, impossible to ignore. Not in his head, but in his heart.

He didn't say it aloud, but deep down, Shun hoped. He hoped that one day, he and Silver could walk these streets again, peacefully, free from the weight of the world. He hoped they could walk together, witnessing the goodness in the world, and sharing idealistic dreams that, even if impossible, gave them something to believe in.

Most of all, Shun hoped they would always walk side by side.