James closed his mouth. Instead of answering, he simply looked back at Lea. Then he furtively looked away, scanning the room again as an excuse. What could he say to her, anyway? And yet...

  "If you don't want to open up to a stranger," Lea said, "I understand." She crouched down to check something. "But you don't seem like a bad person to me."

  "Why?" No "thank you," no nothing; he immediately jumped to that question.

  "You helped us in the dungeon. You didn't have to."

  Whatever it was she had wanted to check, she found nothing in the end and stood up again. She answered him with such confidence... If only he could believe her. Unfortunately, he knew himself quite well.

  He’d lived a simple life until now. Therefore, it was very easy to recognize his dark thought patterns, especially now that they had come to light. His abnormality was even more glaring. He didn't think or feel like normal people. And that wasn't a good thing.

  For starters, he was the kind of person who could kill someone without batting an eye—no matter that it had been self-defense—and then use the corpse to feed a dungeon’s monsters. It was all in his own defense; he couldn't let the killing be exposed. But even so, it wasn't something a normal person could do. He was messed up in the head. There was no point denying it. And that wasn't good.

  Sure, he had helped them in that descent dungeon against the strange boss, but what other choice did he have? Fight alone? Not when he was significantly lower in level and the power of his equipment wasn't up to par. There was a reason they had done most of the work. Obviously. Yes, fighting alone hadn't been an option.

  So it couldn't be said that he’d been a good person because of that. A selfless act. An act from which he stood to gain nothing, except the satisfaction of doing the right thing. He wasn't sure he had ever done anything like that. He always had ulterior motives for his actions and preferred to step aside rather than look for trouble.

  He could have said all this. Well, he could have summarized it. But he remained silent a while longer. And finally:

  "Maybe," James mumbled.

  That was all he said. James watched her moving around, searching for something, anything. Because they didn't even know what they were searching for. He really wanted the conversation to end there. No. Being honest with himself: No.

  Meanwhile, as if he couldn't bear to look at her while opening up, he walked away from the room Lea was searching. He took a deep breath and leaned his back against the wall.

  "Honestly, I’ve always wanted to be normal. I didn't need to stand out, just be happy and normal."

  She was making noise in the other room, moving things aside, rummaging.

  "And yet you came to Asfalt. This place is anything but normal."

  James nodded, admitting it. As if she could see him doing it.

  "I didn't have a choice. Or so I thought, at least."

  What are you doing? Are you really going to confess your pathetic existence? If you tell her you were a piece of trash—even if not for long—she’ll look at you differently. She’ll look down on you. You know it. If she doesn't already.

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  But the truth was, he was sick of keeping it all under lock and key, inside his chest. It had to burst out sometime. And he supposed it had happened now because the threat of death hung right over him, closer than ever. This might well be his last chance to be honest. When he thought about that, it was impossible to turn back.

  "You see, I ended up on the streets," he finally admitted.

  "Oh."

  That was all Lea replied, at least for the moment. Part of him wanted to go into the room, check her expression. Judging by tone alone was difficult. In fact, it was difficult for him with both tone and face. Difficult in general. So it wouldn't do him much good. Anyway. But he still wanted to see her face. James held back. Just in case it was an expression he wouldn't like. He wouldn't be able to finish his confession if he saw something like that.

  "No family, no friends," he continued, steeling himself. He swallowed hard. "Not much money, so..."

  James shrugged. He had said enough. She should understand now.

  "Everyone does what they can to get by," Lea replied. Slowly, after a moment. "That doesn't make you... that doesn't make you a bad person."

  "That's not what I meant," James protested immediately.

  But he snapped his mouth shut.

  "Well, maybe it was," he admitted. He wasn't sure enough of anything to give voice to the stormy sea of feelings in his chest. He wasn't even sure of what he was saying. Not entirely. "I'm sorry, I don't... in a situation like this I don't want to waste our time, but..."

  Lea finished the sentence for him:

  "It feels good to open up to someone."

  "Yes," James said.

  "It's normal."

  A long pause. The next thing she said almost stopped his heart.

  "Consider me your friend from now on."

  "Huh?"

  "No family, no friends. Now you don't have to say that anymore. Consider me your friend."

  James swallowed hard. He had a lump in his throat.

  "Thanks," he barely managed to say.

  It was the right thing to say. What he felt. Well, what he felt was that his confession hadn't been entirely accurate. He’d messed up somehow, despite making his most sincere effort and receiving such a kind and honest response. It was pathetic. But he couldn't add: Wait, actually I meant to say... when he had no idea what he had meant to say.

  This had been his best attempt. He supposed he should be grateful it hadn't gone worse.

  He could have done better. He didn't deny that. But still, he felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. A weight he had been waiting years to let go of. In reality, it didn't fix anything, but it was a small step forward. An important step.

  Still, what did he want to celebrate? He had a right to celebrate. At least, that was what James believed.

  They were in a precarious situation. They could die at any moment without realizing it, without time to resist. All the more reason to cling to any positive feeling he could. All the more reason.

  He didn't want to think about that. Thinking about what you couldn't control was of little use. Fortunately, he didn't remain more or less alone with his thoughts, searching for he didn't even know what. His thoughts would have inevitably drifted toward that.

  "However, I have found something," Lea said.

  Apparently the search was over.

  "What is it?" James asked.

  "I have no fucking idea. Come here."

  He did as she said. He took a look and came to the conclusion that he didn't have a fucking idea either. That is, it was some kind of violet energy cluster, leaning towards dark—quite dark, like dried blood or something. But as for what the hell it was, what it did, how or why... Yeah, not a fucking clue.

  But one thing was clear to him: this is a dream. I mean, things don't just appear for no reason, right? Everything has meaning, or at least subtext.

  Lea shrugged.

  "In theory." She paused for a long time. And then, as if she had read his mind, added: "I'm not going to touch it."

  "Okay, I get it. Besides, I wouldn't make you take the risk."

  She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, as if asking what he meant.

  "We're friends, right?"

  Lea swallowed hard.

  "Of course."

  Well, here goes nothing, he thought.

  Steeling himself, he took a step forward and touched the cluster of energy. Immediately, they were both transported to a different place.

  A dark, empty place.

  "I'm afraid we're not in Kansas anymore," Lea said.

  "Technically, we weren't in Kansas to begin with."

  James crossed his arms, looking around, though there was nothing to see.

  "As long as one of us gets out..."

  Lea nodded.

  "They can protect the others. Buy them time. Yeah, it's better than nothing."

  It could also be a dead end, a false lead, a detour on the way to the gallows. But oh well. You had to be optimistic.