Stepping across the invisible threshold into the demihuman village felt less like arriving at a sanctuary and more like entering another variable in a rapidly expanding equation. The air changed – thicker, perhaps, carrying a faint scent I couldn't quite place, a mix of woodsmoke, damp earth, and something... furry. Visually, it was an assault of the unconventional: structures woven from impossibly large leaves and carved directly into colossal tree trunks, windows that glowed with soft, internal light, and movement that wasn't purely human. Demihumans. Creatures of varied shapes and sizes, blending animalistic features with human forms, moved through the bustling lanes. Ears twitched, tails swished, eyes in a spectrum of colors I'd never seen observed the newcomers.
My internal scanner immediately went to work, cataloging: types of demihumans visible, potential threats (low, most seemed occupied or curious), economic activity (bartering, crafts), architectural stability (surprisingly robust). It was information, data points for survival. Compared to the raw, unpredictable threat of the jungle or the chilling power displays of last night, this was a solvable problem, a structured environment. A relief, in its own analytical way.
"Ah, Akari-sama!" A voice, deeper than human, pulled my attention to a figure emerging from a particularly large, bark-skinned building. He was bear-like, standing on two legs, clad in simple leather armour, and bowed with profound respect. "Welcome back. It has been too long since the Hero Akari graced our village."
Hero. Right. Onee San wasn't just an older sister and an archer; she was a recognized power player here. The demihumans' reactions shifted from curiosity to deference as they recognized her, whispering her name, making way. Her presence commanded respect, a strategic advantage. Another variable, this one seemingly in our favor.
Akari, slipping effortlessly into the role, offered a gracious nod. "Good to see you thriving, Elder Borin." She handled the interaction with a quiet competence I hadn't fully registered before, too focused on her dagger, her arrows, and the revelation of her identity. She was clearly comfortable in this world's social structures, unlike Sarah and me, who felt perpetually out of sync.
We were led to the largest building, clearly an inn. Inside, the air was warmer, filled with the scent of cooking and the low murmur of diverse voices. Akari secured rooms – two, as per the summary I was mentally processing: one for her and Sarah, one for me.
Good. Excellent. A private space. My mind immediately began listing priorities:
* Analyze Sarah's phone data (languages, potential apps, any hidden info).
* Access my own system settings (speed, customization, hidden functions?).
* Process information from Kaz and Akari (Key, factions, magic theory, monster meat).
* Test skills (how does leveling manifest? Can I train mana control alone?).
* Plan next moves (Seek Human God base? That is, if gods actually live here).
Being alone was optimal for these calculations and experiments. Sarah's emotional intensity and Akari's protective scrutiny were... distracting variables.
The innkeeper, a small, nimble creature with large, intelligent eyes, mentioned the village had a hot spring. Akari, always practical, seized on this. "Sarah, you should go wash up. Get rid of the jungle grime."
Sarah brightened, a rare moment of simple pleasure on her face. "Oh, a hot spring! Yes, please!" She looked at me. "Leon, you should come too!"
"Later," I said automatically, already mentally halfway to my designated room. "Exhausted." Standard deflection. Less a lie, more a re-prioritization. Physical fatigue was secondary to informational and strategic deficits.
But as I turned towards the hallway indicated by the innkeeper, a hand clamped onto my arm. Akari's grip. Surprisingly strong, even for her. Strong enough that my level 13 STR barely registered it as a gentle hold. She didn't just grab; she pulled. Forcefully. Not violently, but with an undeniable intent that dragged me backward, away from the hallway to my room, and towards the one designated for her and Sarah.
"We need to talk, Leon. Now." Her voice was low, serious, cutting through the inn's ambient noise.
My internal alarm flickered. Talk? About what? The Key? Kaz? Her mission? The unsettling complexities of our interconnected pasts? Whatever it was, her grip and tone left no room for negotiation. I was being rerouted.
Sarah, still talking about the hot spring, didn't seem to notice the subtle struggle. She headed off in the direction indicated by the innkeeper for the baths, humming softly. Leaving me alone in the common room with a sister I barely knew, who was dragging me towards a private conversation I suspected would be anything but comfortable.
Akari didn't release my arm until she had pulled me into the room. It was simple, clean, with two beds. Functional. Safe. And now, a trap. She closed the door with a soft click that echoed with finality.
She turned, her expression shifting from the polite hero facade to something guarded, concerned, and heavy with disappointment. She didn't yell or rage. She just looked... weary.
"Okay, Leon," she started, her voice quiet but firm, the 'Onee San' formality dropped. "Let's talk about what happened last night. With Sarah. Don't give me that 'it was a test' nonsense again. Just... explain. What excuse do you have for trying to force yourself on her?"
The accusation hung in the air, thick and suffocating. Excuse? It wasn't an excuse; it was the truth. A twisted, convoluted truth born from her friend's bizarre behaviour and my own terrible attempt at psychological manipulation.
"It wasn't an excuse," I stated, forcing myself to meet her gaze. My mind raced, trying to find the most efficient way to relay the sequence of events without sounding completely insane or like the villain she clearly thought I was. "I told you. Sarah... she was trying to provoke me. She asked for a kiss. She set up the scenario. She even offered the handkerchief." But my explaining abilities were way too low.
Akari put a hand on her forehead, a gesture of pure disbelief and frustration. It wasn't just the gesture; I could practically feel her exasperation rolling off her like heat waves.
"Leon," she said, her voice laced with a profound sadness that was worse than any anger. "I don't know what happened to you. But please, don't make it worse by lying. Sarah told me everything. She said you tried to... to force her. She was trying to protect you in front of that Cloak, saying you were just scaring her. But she was scared, Leon. I saw it."
She saw what Sarah wanted her to see. The frustration boiled in my gut, a hot, bitter taste. Sarah's performance review of her "bravery" earlier, her insistence on the kiss as a "reward," her offer of the handkerchief – it all pointed to her orchestration. But Akari, seeing me pinning Sarah down, seeing Sarah's act of fear followed by her lie of consent, had constructed a narrative. A simple, conventional narrative where I was the predator and Sarah the victim. And Sarah, with her theatrical talent and bizarre motives, was selling that narrative flawlessly.
"She's lying," I said, the words clipped, devoid of the emotional plea that might convince someone. Emotional pleas weren't my forte. Data and logical sequences were. Sarah's actions didn't fit the victim profile before Akari arrived. They fit a different, more unsettling pattern.
"Lying?" Akari's voice rose slightly, though still controlled. "Why would Sarah lie about something like that, Leon? It makes no sense!"
It makes perfect sense if you consider Sarah's actions and words before you interrupted, I wanted to scream. It makes sense if you acknowledge her stated desire to "satisfy my needs," her bizarre test of whether I'd actually go through with it, her performance of fear, her offer of the handkerchief, and her willingness to lie to you to protect me. It makes sense if you realize she wants something, and she's willing to use uncomfortable, manipulative methods to get it, including crafting a false reality for her own sister.
But saying that out loud... it sounded like the desperate, nonsensical ramblings of the "rapist" brother trying to blame the "innocent victim." There was no data, no sequence of events I could logically present that countered the powerful visual Akari had walked into, coupled with Sarah's convincing performance and subsequent lies.
Akari looked at me, her eyes searching, hoping, but finding only the detachment that was my default setting in moments of intense stress or misunderstanding. The mask was up. The wall was in place.
She sighed again, the sound heavy with disappointment. She ran a hand through her hair, pushing it back from her forehead, looking every bit the world-weary warrior who had seen too much.
"Leon," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, filled with a sorrow that felt like a physical weight. "You... you used to be so quiet. So innocent. You wouldn't hurt a fly. What... what happened? How could you... how could you become this?"
Become this? A rapist? Because Sarah orchestrated a bizarre encounter, I played along in a misguided attempt to scare her straight and test her boundaries, and she lied to cover for me (for reasons I still couldn't fully grasp)?
The injustice of it, the profound misunderstanding, settled over me like a shroud. My own sister, seeing a fabricated reality, believing I was capable of something so fundamentally abhorrent, something that went against the very few lines I did have. The anger was cold and sharp, but beneath it, a familiar emptiness echoed. This was the price, perhaps, of emotional detachment. When you presented a blank face to the world, people projected their own narratives onto you. And Sarah had just given Akari a script.
She believed Sarah. Of course, she did. Sarah, the beautiful, talented actress. I, the quiet, detached enigma who just threatened suicide and got into a brutal fight with an apparent enemy. The roles were cast.
I didn't say anything. There was nothing to say that wouldn't sound like a hollow denial from the accused. The conversation was over before it began, judged and concluded based on false evidence and a convincing performance. My sister looked at me, and saw a monster. The quiet, innocent boy she remembered was gone, replaced by... this. And she was convinced I was a rapist.
The weight of her disappointment felt heavier than any blow from Kaz or kick from Akari herself. It wasn't just a misunderstanding; it was a condemnation. And I was trapped in a reality Sarah had created.