The world spun on its axis, and I felt the ground lurch beneath my feet. I stumbled backward, my boots sliding on the slick snow, and collided with something solid.

  Strong hands gripped my shoulders, steadying me. I looked up to see Idris, his face pale and drawn. But he wasn't looking at me. His eyes were fixed on the horrific sight before us, wide with uncomprehending shock.

  His mouth opened, and a single, trembling word escaped his lips.

  “M-Monsters…”

  Following his gaze against my will, I saw the mutilated woman again. The blood. The empty eyes. The tiny, green corpse next to her.

  Something inside me snapped.

  I tore myself free from Idris’s grip, my stomach churning violently. I shoved my way through the press of bodies, ignoring their shouts, and stumbled towards the nearest bush at the edge of the square.

  I fell to my knees just as my stomach rebelled. I retched, emptying the meager contents of my stomach onto the snow. But it didn't stop. Heaving, gasping for air, dry heaves racked my body again and again, as if my body was trying to purge the very memory of what I had seen.

  A heavy hand landed on my shoulder.

  “Boy, what are you doing here? Didn't anyone tell you children should stay indoors today?”

  The voice was unfamiliar, rough but not unkind.

  Confused, I wiped a string of saliva from my mouth with the back of my hand and turned around. I had expected Idris, but instead, I found myself looking up at a middle-aged man. He had a weather-beaten face, a shiny bald head, and arms that looked like they could bend iron bars. His expression was grim, his eyes tired.

  Another adventurer? I wondered, noting his build.

  I took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to steady my racing heart.

  “I’m a traveler,” I rasped, my voice raw. “We arrived during the blizzard yesterday. We were just heading to the tavern when we heard the commotion.”

  The man sighed, shaking his head slowly. “Millstone really knows how to make a first impression. The girl on the cross… she was the daughter of the local herbalist. Since the goblin attacks started, sights like this have become… far too common. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

  Goblin attacks?

  That sparked a memory. I stood up, wiping my hands on my trousers.

  “Since when have you been attacked by goblins?” I asked, intrigued despite the horror.

  The man looked at me, surprised by the directness of the question from a pale, shaking child. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Since… a bit more than half a year, I’d say.”

  Hm. That was a very strange coincidence. That timeline aligned perfectly with my arrival in this world—and my encounter with the goblins near the Clayborne farm.

  “Say, these goblins attacking you… have they always been in this area?”

  The man shook his head. “No. Apart from the dungeons, you rarely see goblins. And certainly not out in the open like this. It’s extremely unusual for them to organize attacks on a village. We’d love to find out the cause, but the adventurers want money we don’t have, and we’re too weak to face the dangers out there ourselves.”

  I rubbed the bridge of my nose, sighing. That might explain why Corbin brought us here. Either I was supposed to train in the dungeon, or I was supposed to get to the bottom of this goblin problem. The former I understood. The latter? That seemed a bit above my pay grade.

  I straightened my back and held out my hand to the man. “My name is Grim. Who can I talk to about this goblin situation? Do you have a village elder or a mayor?”

  The man hesitated for a moment, then gripped my small hand in his large, calloused one. “Graham. I’m the blacksmith. We haven’t had a mayor for years. The owner of the silver mine is the most powerful man in Millstone and the surrounding villages, but he doesn’t give a damn about the village or its people. And since the adventurers started swarming in, we’re at their mercy. Everyone is just looking out for themselves now,” he explained, his voice heavy with resignation.

  Lawless territory, I realized. Here, might made right. You could do whatever you wanted as long as you were strong enough to enforce it.

  Behind me, the mob roared again. “DEATH TO THE BLOOD-TRAITORS!”

  Anger flared in my chest, hot and sharp. Why were these people like this? They were victims themselves, oppressed by the mine owner and the adventurers. Surely they knew what had happened to that poor woman. Did they really think she had chosen this fate? That she had willingly laid with a monster?

  But fear made people cruel. It was easier to blame the victim than to face the monster in the woods.

  Idris was right. Monsters… We had walked into a nest of monsters. But why? Was this just a pit stop, or was this Corbin’s destination all along? Did he want to toughen me up against the cruelty of humans? Or did he just want me to see… this?

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  I shook my head and nodded to the blacksmith. “Thank you for the information, Graham. I should get going.”

  The man nodded curtly, casting one last, sorrowful look at the mob before turning away and disappearing into the swirling mist.

  Just as I turned back to the crowd, Idris came towards me. He looked… overwhelmed. Like someone whose worldview had just been shattered with a sledgehammer.

  “Come on,” I said softly, grabbing his sleeve. “Let’s find a tavern. A quiet one.”

  Idris nodded absently, letting me lead him away.

  We retreated from the roaring crowd, heading down a side street until we stood before a robust wooden building. Through the windows, I could see it was well-filled, but the atmosphere seemed different from the tavern where I had woken up. Here, people sat quietly at tables, eating and talking in hushed tones.

  Relieved, I pushed the door open and stepped inside. A wave of warmth and the smell of fresh stew greeted me. Even though my stomach was still doing somersaults, I knew we needed to eat.

  I scanned the room, looking for an empty table. But before I could take two steps, my eyes snagged on a figure behind the counter.

  I froze.

  The blood in my veins turned to ice, then boiled.

  My eyes darted around the room, searching. But the person I was looking for wasn't there. Confused, I took a few more steps, and then I saw another familiar face emerging from the kitchen.

  What the hell?

  A young girl with long, dark brown hair was carrying a tray of mugs and bowls. She had a shy, polite smile on her lips as she served a table.

  It was Willow. The Clayborne daughter. The girl I had saved from the goblins at the lake.

  Under any other circumstances, seeing her alive and well—walking without a limp, breathing without a wheeze—would have filled me with relief.

  But then my gaze snapped back to the woman at the counter. Her mother, Vana.

  And the question burned in my mind: Where the hell is that bastard who sold me to the Ainsworths?

  Surely, that was the reason his daughter was skipping around so cheerfully. He had traded my life for hers.

  With grinding teeth, I marched towards the counter. Vana was just rinsing a mug when she looked up and saw me. Her eyes went wide, and a look of genuine, beaming recognition spread across her face.

  Oh, the audacity. To smile at me like that after her husband sold me like cattle.

  “It’s you!” she exclaimed, wiping her hands on her apron. “How wonderful to see you!”

  Her joy only fueled the fire in my gut.

  “Where. Is. He?” I hissed, my voice dripping with venom. If I got my hands on that traitor, I would end him.

  “Wh-who do you mean?” she stammered, her smile faltering. She looked confused, her gaze flicking between me and something behind me—probably her daughter.

  “Who do I mean? Orin. Fucking. Clayborne. Your bastard of a husband who SOLD ME as a slave to nobles in Aegis!” The words exploded out of me, loud enough to turn heads at the nearby tables.

  Vana’s face went white as a sheet. She clapped her hands over her mouth, a gasp of pure horror escaping her.

  Behind me, I heard the crash of shattering pottery.

  I spun around to see Willow standing over a mess of broken plates and spilled stew. She was staring at me, her eyes wide with shock. But as the tavern fell silent and all eyes turned to her, she panicked. Red-faced, she scrambled to the kitchen, returning moments later with a broom to sweep up the shards with trembling hands.

  I turned back to the mother. She was gripping the counter like a lifeline.

  “S-s-say…” she stuttered, taking a few ragged breaths before looking me deep in the eyes. “Tell me. Is that the truth? Is that what happened?”

  What?

  Now I was confused. Was this woman trying to play me? Pretending she didn't know?

  “Well, to be precise,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm, “your husband drove me to a noble house in Aegis. He went in alone. Then I was knocked out. When I woke up, I was wearing a slave bracelet and watching his wagon drive away. And given the fact that your daughter is the picture of health, I’d say he got paid enough to afford a very expensive healer.”

  I punctuated this with a thumbs-up and a mockingly approving nod.

  But to my surprise, Vana didn't defend him. She looked devastated. Her shoulders slumped, and shame radiated off her in waves.

  “He told us…” she whispered, her voice trembling. “He told us the money was a reward from your family. For bringing you back safely to them… But… that would explain why he didn't speak a word for a week after he returned.”

  I raised an eyebrow, skeptical.

  Willow stepped up beside her mother now, clutching the broom handle like a shield. She looked at the floor, unable to meet my eyes. Vana sensed her presence and immediately put a protective arm around her.

  “Willow… she was dying when you left for Aegis,” Vana confessed, tears welling in her eyes. “That’s why Orin left with you in the first place.”

  She looked at me pleadingly. “He hoped… he hoped that a magic-gifted boy like you would have family in Aegis. That maybe he would get a reward, enough to bring a doctor back. But when he returned, and Willow was healed, and he said the healer found nothing wrong with you… he was… different.”

  My jaw dropped slightly. I shook my head in disbelief.

  A hand landed on my shoulder. I turned to see Idris. “Grim, is everything alright?”

  I let out a long, heavy breath, shaking my head in a mix of disbelief and bitter realization.

  “So, let me get this straight,” I said, a dark laugh bubbling up. “Willow is healthy because Pip—my cat—can heal people. And as a 'thank you', I get enslaved and sold? That just warms my heart.”

  Idris squeezed my shoulder silently.

  Willow and her mother looked like they wanted the ground to swallow them whole. The guilt on their faces was raw and real. And looking at them, I realized my anger was misdirected. Orin was the villain here, not them. They were just as much victims of his lies as I was.

  I looked around the room and saw the judging glares directed at us—or rather, at the two women.

  I sighed, rubbing my forehead. “I’m sorry. You… you probably didn't know. Taking my anger out on you is almost as unfair as what Orin did to me.”

  I bit my lip, forcing the rage down.

  “Can we maybe get something to eat and drink?” Idris asked gently, stepping in to diffuse the tension. “We’ve had a long journey.”

  “Oh! Yes! Of course!” Vana jumped, wiping her eyes hastily. “Willow, would you prepare a table?”

  Willow flinched slightly but nodded. “Yes, Mother. Please, follow me,” she said with a shaky gesture, leading Idris towards an empty corner table.

  But I stayed at the counter. I turned back to Vana, who was looking at me with fearful uncertainty.

  “Where is he?” I asked again, my voice quiet but firm.

  She bit her lip, wringing her hands in her apron.

  “He is at home,” she whispered. “Defending the farm…”

  Defending the farm?

  A cold dread settled in my stomach. “Don’t tell me it’s goblins. Don't tell me that’s the reason you two are here and he isn't? Is Jory with him?”

  Jory. The younger brother.

  Vana closed her eyes, tears spilling over her cheeks again. She gave a single, weak nod.

  My eye twitched.

  I knew exactly what I was about to do. And I knew I would hate myself for it. But I would hate myself even more if I didn't.

  “I have a bone to pick with your husband,” I said, my voice hardening like steel. “So I won't let the goblins have him. He belongs to me.”

  I turned to leave, pausing only to add, “But I make no guarantees about what happens after I save him.”