My Second Chance in Life in Another World-Chapter 61: THE COST OF TRUST

As I arrived behind the fifth-year students’ dorm, the dim light of the setting sun cast long shadows on the walls. The air was thick with tension, the quiet hum of the wind doing little to mask the unease that coiled in my chest. Standing in the gloom, I spotted Alad first, his arrogant smirk illuminated faintly by the fading light. Beside him stood Werk, his towering frame imposing, flanked by two other men whose faces bore the hardened expressions of those used to trouble.

"Oh, you actually came? Is Crestia truly that important to you?" Alad called out, his voice dripping with mockery as he folded his arms across his chest. His eyes gleamed with cruel amusement, studying me as though I were a caged animal.

I met his gaze without flinching, my voice cold and steady. "Where are they?"

The smirk on Alad’s face widened, his lips curling upward in a way that made my stomach churn. "If that stare is a weapon, I might already be dead. Just calm down. Rushing won’t solve your problem."

His dismissive tone ignited a spark of anger within me, but I forced myself to remain composed. I couldn’t afford to lose control, not when Crestia and Cirris were at stake. My fists clenched tightly at my sides, nails digging into my palms as I swallowed the rising frustration.

Alad chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the power he held in this moment. "That’s right, know your place. I don’t mind that attitude," he said, his words like venomous barbs.

"Now, follow me. Don’t make any suspicious moves, or your precious Crestia will suffer." The threat in his voice was unmistakable, and the weight of his words pressed heavily on my shoulders.

I had no choice but to comply. Defying him now would only put them in greater danger. My feet moved reluctantly as I trailed behind him, the two other men falling in step beside me, their presence a silent reminder of the precarious situation I was in. Werk walked slightly ahead, his large frame blocking most of the dim light from the corridor.

The shadows deepened as we entered the fifth-year dormitory. The air felt colder here, the silence oppressive. We walked along the narrow hallway until we reached the room at the end, its door bearing no distinguishing marks. Alad rapped his knuckles against the wood three times, the sound echoing faintly.

"Who is it?" a voice from within called, gruff and impatient.

"Your long-lost best friend," Alad replied smoothly, his tone laced with sarcasm.

There was a pause, followed by the creak of the door opening. The man inside stepped aside to let us in, his suspicious eyes scanning me briefly before focusing on Alad.

As I stepped into the room, I scanned my surroundings. The space was cramped, lit only by a single, flickering bulb that cast eerie shadows on the peeling walls. The stale scent of damp wood hung in the air, mingling with the faint metallic tang of something I couldn’t quite place.

Is this the fighting ground?

My eyes darting around the room. It seemed unlikely, but I knew better than to trust appearances.

"We’ll wait for Werk and the others first," Alad said, his voice breaking through my thoughts. He dropped into a chair near the corner, lounging as though he had all the time in the world. His grin hadn’t wavered, a constant reminder of how much he enjoyed the situation.

"Don’t even think about doing anything," he added, his tone sharpening. "You’re in my territory now."

I bit back a retort, knowing it would only provoke him further. Instead, I leaned against the wall, my arms crossed as I focused on keeping my breathing steady. Every second stretched endlessly as I replayed the events leading up to this moment. How had Crestia and Cirris been taken so easily? What would I find when I finally saw them?

Minutes ticked by, each one heavier than the last. Then, after what felt like an eternity, there was another knock at the door.

Three sharp raps echoed in the room.

"Who is it?" the man inside called again, his tone more agitated this time.

"Your long-lost best friend," Werk’s voice answered from the other side.

The door opened once more, admitting Werk and the two other men who had been with him earlier. With everyone assembled, Alad pushed himself to his feet, his movements deliberate.

"Let’s get this over with," he said, his grin widening as he moved to the center of the room. Reaching down, he grabbed the edge of a faded, threadbare carpet and pulled it back, revealing a hidden door set into the floor.

A soft gasp escaped me despite myself. So, this was the real entrance to the fighting ground. It made sense now why its location had remained such a well-kept secret. The worn carpet had been the perfect cover, blending seamlessly into the dingy room.

"Follow me," Alad ordered, his voice dripping with authority. He didn’t wait for a response, descending into the passageway as though he owned the world. Werk gestured for me to follow, his expression unreadable, and I obeyed reluctantly.

The hidden passage was narrow and dark, the walls lined with damp stone that seemed to close in around me. The faint sound of dripping water echoed through the space, heightening the oppressive atmosphere. My unease grew with every step, but I forced myself to focus.

After several minutes of walking, the passage opened up into a massive underground arena. I stopped in my tracks, my eyes widening in disbelief. The sheer size of the space was staggering, far larger than I had anticipated. The high ceiling was supported by massive stone columns, and flickering torches cast long shadows across the uneven ground.

The air was thick with the scent of sweat and something sharper—blood, I realized with a shudder. This wasn’t just a fighting ground; it was a battleground, a place where lives were gambled for sport.

"Alad! Brought another one?" A voice called out, breaking the heavy silence. I turned to see a white-haired man leaning casually against one of the columns, his piercing gaze fixed on me.

"No, this one’s my plaything," Alad replied, a sinister chuckle escaping his lips.

The man raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Is that so? Good luck, boy," he said, his tone mocking as he turned and walked away.

Alad gave me a not-so-gentle nudge, shoving me forward. "Keep walking. We’re going to my room," he said, his voice filled with anticipation.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself. Whatever lay ahead, I would face it. For Crestia and Cirris, I couldn’t afford to falter now.

I couldn’t help but focus on the center of the fighting ground as I walked. It was impossible not to. The arena was a vast, circular pit, its edges lined with jagged stones that seemed to glint ominously under the flickering torchlight. The din of shouting and the clash of steel filled the air, drowning out my thoughts. My gaze locked onto the two figures dueling inside, their movements swift and precise. The fight wasn’t staged—these were real swords, their sharp edges flashing as the combatants clashed with brutal intensity.

The onlookers, students and spectators alike, roared with excitement, their voices a chaotic blend of cheers, jeers, and bets. Piles of coins and slips of paper exchanged hands as they wagered on who would emerge victorious. It was everything Crestia had described—violent, primal, and utterly unforgiving.

"Hey! Move it!"

Alad’s sharp voice snapped me out of my daze, his impatient tone slicing through the noise like a blade. I blinked and realized I had stopped walking, rooted to the spot as I stared at the fight.

"Do I need to drag you myself?!" Alad growled, his dark eyes narrowing as he stepped toward me.

I quickly resumed walking, keeping my gaze low to avoid provoking him further. The enormity of what I’d just witnessed weighed heavily on me. Was this the fate Alad intended for me? To be thrown into that arena like a piece of meat, my survival determined by bloodshed?

We passed through a narrow hallway that led away from the chaotic arena, entering a quieter part of the underground complex. Alad pushed open a heavy wooden door, leading us into what appeared to be a private room. It was modest, with stone walls and a single cot pushed against one side. A small table with a flickering lamp sat in the corner, casting faint shadows across the cramped space.

Alad sauntered inside and dropped onto the bed, his posture casual yet radiating authority. He gestured for me to remain standing, clearly enjoying the power dynamic.

"Okay," he said, his smile widening in that familiar, taunting way. "Let’s talk about what you need to do to save Crestia."

I stiffened at his words, my fists clenching at my sides. "Huh?" I asked, unable to mask my confusion.

Alad’s grin twisted into a mocking sneer. "What, did you think I’d just let you waltz out of here with Crestia after bringing you all this way? Are you an idiot?"

His laughter grated on my nerves, but I forced myself to stay calm. I couldn’t afford to let my emotions get the better of me, not when Crestia’s safety was on the line.

"What do you want?" I asked through gritted teeth, my voice low but steady.

"It’s simple," Alad said, leaning back against the wall with an air of exaggerated nonchalance. "You’re going to fight fifty consecutive battles in that arena outside. No breaks, no rest, just fifty victories in a row. That’s all you have to do to get her back."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. Fifty battles? Without rest? My mind reeled at the sheer absurdity of the demand. Did he honestly expect me to survive such a gauntlet?

"That’s insane," I said before I could stop myself, my voice betraying the slightest hint of desperation.

"Oh, it seems you lack motivation," Alad said, his grin growing wider. "Cirris! Bring her in."

The mention of Cirris’s name sent a fresh wave of confusion crashing over me. Wait, Cirris? Isn’t he also captured?

Before I could process what was happening, the door creaked open. My heart plummeted as I saw Crestia being dragged into the room. Her hands and feet were bound tightly, her movements restricted to helpless jerks as she stumbled forward. A thick blindfold covered her eyes, and a gag muffled any attempts she made to speak.

"Crestia!" I shouted, taking an involuntary step forward.

She flinched slightly at the sound of my voice, her head turning toward me. Even bound and gagged, she seemed to recognize me, her body relaxing just a little as though my presence brought her some measure of comfort.

I felt a fleeting sense of relief at seeing her alive, but it was quickly overshadowed by anger and concern. Her condition was dire, and every second she remained in Alad’s grasp was another second too long.

"What are you doing, Cirris?" I demanded, my voice sharp and filled with disbelief as I turned to face him.

Cirris stood behind Crestia, his hands resting on her shoulders as though to steady her. His expression was tight, his eyes avoiding mine.

"Oh, right!" Alad interjected with a laugh, cutting through the tension. "You still think Cirris is your ally, don’t you? HAHAHAHAHA!"

My stomach sank at his words, dread clawing at the edges of my mind.

"I’m sorry, Will," Cirris said at last, his voice barely above a whisper. "I deceived you because Alad promised to forgive my debt if I did what he asked."

For a moment, I couldn’t speak, the weight of his betrayal stealing the air from my lungs. I had trusted Cirris, believed he was on my side. And now, to hear him admit that he had traded that trust for his own selfish gain...

"You..." I began, my voice trembling with a mixture of anger and disbelief. "You betrayed me? And for what? A debt?"

Cirris flinched at my words, his gaze dropping to the floor. "It wasn’t an easy decision," he said weakly. "But I didn’t have a choice. Alad—"

"You always have a choice," I snapped, cutting him off. My hands clenched into fists as a surge of fury overtook me. "And you chose to sell us out."

Alad, meanwhile, was practically vibrating with glee, his laughter echoing in the small room. "Oh, this is priceless," he said, wiping a tear from his eye. "I couldn’t have planned this better myself."

"So you betrayed me and Crestia, who trusted you, just to do what he asked?" My voice was low, trembling with suppressed anger, but each word carried the weight of my disbelief.

Cirris flinched, his shoulders slumping slightly, but he refused to meet my gaze. His hands fidgeted at his sides as if grappling with some invisible chain. The air in the room was stifling, heavy with tension, and my words seemed to hang there like a blade poised to drop.

I wanted to scream at him, to demand an answer that could justify such a heinous act, but deep down, I already understood.

I understood too well.

Memories from my past surfaced unbidden—of a time when I’d sold out a friend to avoid being bullied, when I’d placed my own comfort above loyalty. It wasn’t something I was proud of, and it wasn’t a wound that had healed. That ugly part of me resonated with Cirris’s actions now.

But still, this... this was different.

I’d trusted him. I’d put my faith in him when it mattered most. I’d chosen to help him when I could’ve turned away. And yet, this betrayal was my reward?

"I’m truly sorry, Will. Please forgive me," Cirris said, his voice trembling, a crack of desperation slipping through his otherwise stoic mask.

For a moment, I hesitated. Maybe... maybe he really did regret his actions. His expression was lined with anguish, his tone thick with guilt. But then—

"Just kidding!" His tone shifted so abruptly that it felt like a physical blow. He raised his head, a twisted grin spreading across his face. "Will, do you think I’d say just that?"

The room seemed to tilt for a moment, and I stared at him, dumbfounded.

Huh? What was happening?

"Great acting, Cirris. I’ll give you 97 out of 100," Alad chimed in from his place on the cot, clapping his hands slowly, mockingly. His smirk deepened as he leaned back, clearly reveling in my confusion.

What on earth was going on?

"You see, Will, I enjoy deceiving people," Cirris continued, his smile turning sharper, crueler. He watched my bewildered expression with an almost childlike glee, like a boy pulling the wings off a fly.

"Huh?" I managed to utter, though it felt like the word barely scraped past the lump forming in my throat.

"Watching them trust me, only to be betrayed in the end," Cirris said, taking a step closer. His eyes gleamed with malice. "Isn’t that the best?"

I stared at him, my chest tightening as I tried to reconcile this twisted figure with the Cirris I thought I knew. He’d always been quiet, reserved—a man burdened by his debts and circumstances but never malicious. Yet here he was, smiling as though this was all some kind of sick joke.

This guy had gone off the deep end. Was this even the same Cirris I once knew?

"Okay, okay, enough of this show," Alad interrupted, his tone as casual as if he were calling off a play. "Let’s get back to our conversation."

He stood from the cot, stretching his arms lazily before pacing the room with a deliberate slowness. Each step echoed slightly against the stone walls, a cruel metronome to the tension.

"Will, we’re going to play a game," he said, his grin spreading wider with every word.

My mind struggled to keep up, still reeling from the whirlwind of Cirris’s betrayal.

"This game is called ’Who Will Take the Punishment?’ Isn’t it exciting?" Alad’s voice was practically dripping with glee.

I didn’t respond, my mind too tangled in the chaos of emotions swirling inside me. My focus darted between Cirris, whose smug expression made my stomach churn, and Alad, whose every word only fanned the flames of my anger.

"Okay, let me explain the rules," Alad continued, his tone that of a teacher addressing a particularly slow student. "It’s simple. There are three rounds of punishment, and you must choose between two options each time."

As he spoke, my fists clenched involuntarily. The very word "punishment" sent a shiver down my spine, but what chilled me more was the way he spoke about it, as though this were all just some lighthearted game.

"Cirris, remove her blindfold," Alad ordered.

Cirris moved to comply without hesitation, his earlier act of supposed regret now completely abandoned. He tugged the cloth away from Crestia’s eyes, and she blinked rapidly against the sudden light.

Her gaze immediately found mine, and the moment she recognized me, tears welled up in her eyes. Her lower lip quivered as sobs began to wrack her small frame.

The sight of her like this—bound, terrified, and helpless—cut deeper than I could’ve imagined. She must’ve been through hell to be in this state. And I? I’d failed her. I’d walked into this situation without seeing the truth, and now she was paying the price for my blindness.

"Don’t worry, Crestia," I said, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. "They won’t hurt you anymore. Not while I’m here."

She sniffled, her eyes wide and filled with a desperate hope that both reassured and terrified me.

"What a heroic line!" Alad mocked, clapping his hands together with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Let’s see if you can maintain it during the game."

He turned toward Cirris and gestured dramatically. "Let the game ’Who Will Take the Punishment?’ begin!"

Alad’s wicked smile grew impossibly wide, his excitement palpable as though he were a child about to open a long-awaited gift.