Joan's eyes slowly opened, looking at the ceiling. Strange familiarity. Although her past life was not familiar, this life is familiar. Painted in simple off-white, it is the modest roof of the infirmary. She was lying on a small bed, and a cool breeze was blowing outside the window. She found herself struck by a strange memory, one about this life.

When she first arrived at the Academy, she saw windows made of glass, but designed with two pieces, so one of them could slide to allow air to enter. This allows them to both see outside and inside in the winter while maintaining a cool environment during the summer. It was the most amazing thing she had ever seen when she was younger.

Joan focused on the window, she could barely feel Hadwin staring at her. She took a deep breath before clearing her voice and preparing to speak.

"You're not good in every sense of the word." Hadwin said firmly, interrupting her before she could speak.

She nodded, a smile on her lips. "How did he accept it?"

"He hugged me and started crying."

Joan sighed. She wanted to say something, but to be honest, after many times she broke down and cried over something she thought was trivial, she couldn't help but have a new acceptance of that side of the boy. "So you're going to trust me from now on?"

"I've agreed to help you," Hardwin said.

"I need your trust, though." Joan said, then slowly turned her head to him.

"Good," Hardwin said, finally softening.

"Okay, let's go. Now I think Taglen is—"

A hand suddenly pressed against her chest, knocking her to the ground before she could stand up. "Nope."

"No?" She asked. "We need to-"

"You only slept for a few hours. Once the disease is cured, you will be escorted back to the castle along with Serge. Then you will live with the Queen until I return. ”

"What?!" Joan shouted, trying to push the hand away. However, even she didn't feel sick and weak. "Are you serious? You need me—"

"I need you, yes. You're not wrong. I do need you. But I need you alive. I'm going to find Taglen, deal with the underground monsters, and come back. Once I do that, we'll decide what to do from there. Perhaps, if you behave well, I'll let you go with me for the fourth option. Hadwin said, retracting his hand.

"You can't be serious," Joan said again. He stood up, and to her annoyance, he was ready to leave. His clothes looked clean and neat, even shaved. "You can't leave me here alone. You can't just push me aside. I can fight! As she spoke, tears welled up in her eyes again.

"Yes, I am, and I can. I'm not. No, you're not. Yes, you can. But I don't need you to fight. I need you to stay here and stay safe. Kingdom, no, the world needs you, Joan. ”

"Yes, and-"

"What's more. Do you gain the glory of our battle, or the glory of saving the world? Hadwin asked. Not only that, but you'll also be here with another chosen person. If anything happens, he needs you to be there to guide him and fight against it. ”

How many times has she focused on her pride and glory instead of making things scary? She couldn't move now, and any more exertion would only make things worse. She looked up at him, then nodded slightly. "You're right."

"Okay. Where is Taglen?

"Go to the dwarven capital, Silverfog. Look for the Golden Taglen. He ...... "She struggled to come up with the right words. "You'll understand when you see him. Don't let him you off too much. He may look like a selfish, greedy bastard, but he has a good heart. He's also a selfish, greedy bastard. She laughs. He will charge you for the return trip to the capital. ”

Hadwin stared at her, his lips furrowed in annoyance. "Are you kidding?"

"Not at all. He has blonde hair and a long, three-pronged beard. Now I think he runs a legitimate gambling ring. ”

"He's one of the chosen ones?" Hadwin shook his head and asked again. "You can't be serious."

"You know, when I met him, I said the same thing most of the time. And you, old friend, always laugh and seem to be intoxicated by my pain. So I say this from the heart. I'm glad it's you, not me, this time. She chuckled, causing a pain in her chest and a soft cry of beauty. She slowly closed her eyes and sighed. "I don't want to get sick."

"Nobody does, Joan. Just take a break, relax, and you'll be back on your feet. Hardwin said with a hint of a funny smile.

She snorted rudely in response. "You know, heroes don't get sick."

"Really? So in this life, not once? ”

"I was pierced, poisoned, cut, burned, and pretty much everything else. But before I got this body, I had never been sick, not once. ”

"Oh? How many times have you been sick since you got sick? Hardwin asked with a chuckle.

Joan let out a soft whimper, rolled to her side, and pulled herself into a ball. This made her truly wish that the buried memory would come to light.

"Joan?" Ha asked, the smile in his voice fading away.

"I used to be sick a lot," Joan whispered. "When I was little. There were times when they thought I was going to die. It feels so silly now. This is not part of her pact with fate. If she dies before she gets a chance to meet the others, then there will never be a chance to solve anything. But she didn't know it at the time. All she remembers is the heat, loneliness, and fear. However, it wasn't the illness that bothered her the most.

Whenever she got the flu, they would let her rest by the fire. She didn't understand why at the time, but it always scared her. It was such a stupid fear that she was able to overcome it in the end, and while not completely ignored, at least pushed it away enough to do so.

But when she was tired, sick, weak, it was the scariest thing in the world for her. She imagined sparks coming out of the flames, hitting her, erupting into an inferno that could not be extinguished. She imagined herself screaming for help, but no one came. She pulled the covers tighter and wrapped herself as tightly as she could, trying to drive away those terrible nightmares.

"Joan?" Hardwin asked, then reached out and gently shook her shoulder. "It's okay."

Joan whimpered softly, then looked up at him. "Don't let them make a fire here," she whispered.

"What?" Hadwin asked.

"I don't want to start a fire. Not if I'm sick. Please," Joan pleaded.

"It's okay, there's no fire. Joan, what's wrong? You're shaking. She felt his hand on her forehead, but the next second he pulled it back. Your body temperature is rising, and you're soaking wet. I'll find you a therapist. Don't move. ”

She didn't mean to move right now. "No fire, you promised," she whispered.

However, it wasn't the sparks that scared her. That's the god of hell. Imagine its flames enveloping her. Melted her. Now that those memories came to her, all she had left was in her head. All she remembered was the pain, the pain that surrounded her, slowly melting her body bit by bit. Her vision and hearing were slowly fading, leaving only pain. Is that what she's going to happen to now? She tried to push those memories away. They're not real. She had just gotten sick and was in the infirmary. None of this is true. None of this happened. But now she is at her most vulnerable, and these memories refuse to waver, easily breaking through all her defenses.

"No!" She shouted, shaking her head.

"Joan, please stay calm," a voice shouted. She looked up and saw an older woman standing above her, holding a piece of cloth in her right hand. "It doesn't matter. I'm just going to wipe you dry. You're covered in sweat. ”

"All right," Joan whispered, shaking her head as the nurse got to work. That's not going to happen. This can't happen. No matter how sick she was, even if she died, she wouldn't feel those flames again. Never. Even if they lose and the god of hell returns, she will kill herself before being caught by the god of hell again.

In the end, though, the thought didn't bring much comfort.