Continue On, Struggler | Chapter Eight, Sudden Change (Part Three).

…

Zenith.

…

Zenith had been content to cry herself to sleep. It's all she could think to do. After what she learned tonight, of her husband's infidelity and best friend's betrayal, what else could she do?

What was she going to do? The question made her mind go to dangerous places. Divorce was the first and foremost, but she forced it out as soon as it entered. She loved him too much to do that. Even now. She knew better. For all Paul's flaws, for all the hurt she felt, she knew herself better than thinking she'd actually do it. It just wasn't what she wanted. Not at all.

Paul was a boar, despite his upbringing. A lecher through and through. An idiot who only seemed to create more and more tricky situations for their party to wriggle free of. That was the man her husband was—that was the type of man she had given her heart to. Some past version of herself might've been foolish enough to think otherwise—that there was a knight in sterling white armor hiding under all of the muck and garbage—but she had grown up a lot since then.

Zenith knew exactly what she had gotten herself into when they got married. It's why the promise was so important to her in the first place. Not because she believed he'd actually stay true to it, but because it felt good. To hear. To know. To feel. That, even if it was for a little while, she had been worth it to him. Then, he actually went and broke it.

It hurt. It hurt more than she could ever imagine. It hurt, even more, to know that it was Lilia with who he had broken it. She considered the woman her closest friend—employer and employee only in name and convenience. Sometimes, it felt like Lilia understood her more than Paul or Rudy did. Yet, in spite of all that, not only did she help Paul break his promise—she had been the one to goad him into it.

In the moment, after hearing her explanation, Zenith wanted nothing more than to kick both out. But, when the time came, all she did was stand from her seat and start crying.

For the first time in a long while, Zenith felt the same as when she first ran away from home to become an adventurer: naive, stupid, and taken advantage of.

…

Bang!

A door slammed shut and stopped Zenith's crying. A part of her immediately thought to dismiss it as Paul lashing out at something, but then, she heard footsteps rush down the hallway and down the stairs—footsteps that were far too soft to belong to a fully grown man.

"Why?" She heard after some silence. That voice… It was Rudy's, but why was he—? "The two of you hurt Mother. "The two of you hurt Mother. Tell me why. Now."

…

Rudy had always been a peculiar boy.

Back when he was first born, he made so little noise that she and Paul had worried that there was something wrong with him. But, eventually, those worries went away as he got older and got more active. He became quite the pain in the behind too.

After he learned to crawl, he developed a habit of slipping away from her and Lilia. Only to wind up in the strangest of places. They both chalked it up to a child's curiosity at first, but then, one day, Lilia found him out in the yard, swinging a stick around like a sword in a clear attempt to mimic his father. That's when she really started to worry.

Not that Zenith disliked the idea of her son picking up a skill. If Rudy wanted to become a swordsman like his father, then she'd support him without hesitation, but he fixated on it like nothing else. She ignored it for a time, but more and more, she found him swinging around makeshift swords. He'd disappear and then reappear sweaty and exhausted with scratches and cuts littering his palms. It became clear then. He wasn't playing around. He was training. And something about the thought terrified her. Made her think about the future—his future. Maybe it was just her motherly instincts kicking in, overreacting, but she didn't like the idea of him having to use those skills. Ever. Much less for a living. She was far too familiar with that sort of life to want the same for him.

Those concerns wavered whenever she watched him train. She could see it in his eyes. In the way his body shifted and moved with each swing. The ease. The comfort. He always looked comfortable when he practiced. More comfortable than she'd ever seen him, even more so than when she held him—a fact that never failed to upset her. How, as a mother, could she even think about taking something like that away from him?

Strangely enough, Zenith would get the chance to talk about it with him.

One day, while she was working in the garden, Rudy barged up to her with a book raised over his head. It took her less than a second to recognize. It was the textbook on beginner magic that she and Paul kept in the study—the one that she had always secretly wanted Rudy to stumble upon, be curious enough to thumb through, and lead him down the path of being a magician. That never really panned out. So, at the time, she was just curious as to why he had it when they hadn't even taught him how to read yet.

"I saw you looking at it earlier. Why? What is it?"

Zenith couldn't tell as to why—maybe it was just holding in those worries for such a long time—but she ended up spilling them all to him. It was far from her proudest moment, as a fully-grown woman and as a mother, but she liked being able to speak so honestly with her son. Even if she found the whole thing to be incredibly selfish of her. Then, he asked:

"Do you still want me to be a magician?"

Her son had asked it so earnestly that she couldn't help responding in kind.

"Of course, I do."

Out of consideration for him and his dreams, Zenith told him that she'd be okay with any path he went down. It didn't matter to her as long as he was happy doing it. He nodded and seemed to understand. Yet, he still went and somehow convinced Roxy Migurdia, a Saint-Class Water Magician, to teach him how to read and write. All entirely behind their backs! Then, one day, the Migurd came running into the house, claiming that her son had some innate talent for casting magic!

In the moment, after the initial shock had worn off, all she could think to do was smile at Rudy knowingly.

What else could she do after hearing something like that?

…

The last time Zenith moved with such haste was back in her adventurer days. Before she even realized it, she jumped up from her bed and was standing at the top of the stairs.

"Rudy…." Paul's tone forced her to a standstill. "Look, Lilia and I… We…" It was a trained response, she recognized. Another holdover from their past. An instinctual spike of fear that told her something bad was about to happen. He sounded flustered, completely at a loss on what to say next. That never boded well. In those situations, he'd always just start talking—saying the first things that came to mind and hoping he'd find the right answer in the mess. Usually, though, he just made things worse. "Back before your mother and I got married, she made me promise that she'd be my only woman."

"And?" Rudy asked.

Zenith gulped hard at that. Was that really her son? It didn't sound like him. He usually spoke with so little emotion that it was hard to tell what he was feeling most of the time. Always aloof and carefree. Now, though? His voice was biting and accusatory, almost like the snarl of a ready hound.

"A month ago, I broke that promise. Since your mother is going to have a baby, I… She and I haven't… Please don't blame Lilia. This is all my fault."

…

Her eyes burned again. That was a lie. Paul was lying. Paul was lying to Rudy. Their son. A part of her wasn't surprised, or at least didn't want to be. When she interrogated Lilia, the maid admitted to being the one to seduce Paul. He tried to cut in then, probably to tell her the same thing he just told Rudy, but Zenith shut him up before he could. She had to. She knew her husband too well. He was an idiot, but he did his best to be a good person. He'd never try to actively hurt her, and he'd never let Lilia go through with her suggested punishment.

The woman wanted to leave for home as soon as Zenith's pregnancy ran its course—that most likely looked to be right in the middle of winter. No one said anything, but all three of them knew what she was trying to do.

To Lilia, it felt like the only way she could atone.

To them, it felt like suicide.

Paul wasn't the kind of man who'd let something like that happen. Not for something he played a part in as well.

Zenith, though? She wasn't the kind of woman who could expunge the thought from her mind entirely. For the longest moment, anger held her so tight, she actually considered it.

She listened to the rest of their conversation, her eyes fixed on the gap between her feet and the stairs. The first step down—it felt like it was taunting her, reminding her that she could run down there and put an end to what she was hearing. Now. At any point. But all she did was stand there.

Lilia's story didn't change. Selfishly, a part of Zenith wanted to feel good about that fact. Paul was handing her an easy out, but her friend wouldn't take it—practically risking her own death so as to not deceive Zenith any further.

Even then, Paul wasn't dissuaded from his attempts to convince Rudy. "So, please, I know this is a lot to ask, but help me convince your mother to let Lilia stay. At least until winter passes. She won't—"

There was a sudden commotion. Wood scraped against the wood and something banged against wood, and then—SMACK!

"Rudy, what're you—?!"

"—And what about Mother? You can say all that about a maid, but not Mother?" Another stray, selfish thought crossed her mind as she rushed downstairs. "Who exactly is the one who got hurt here?"

That was the first time Zenith's ever heard her son speak like that.

"The hell are you even doing down here?!"

When she entered the dining room, Rudy had Paul by the collar. Anger twisted his boyish face into one of utter contempt, all the while his green eyes burned with a level of anger that didn't seem possible for a six-year-old boy.

And it was all for her sake.

It was all she could think about. How her getting hurt led to this. To her son lashing out and raising his voice. Acting entirely unlike himself.

It warmed her heart to see. And, that warmth thawed her from her frozen state. She couldn't let this go on any further.

She needed to act—now—and not just in favor of what she thought was right. She needed to go after what she wanted.

If Rudy was willing to go far for her sake, what kind of mother would she be if she didn't try and meet him halfway?

…

Guts.

…

Guts reared back to punch Paul again. And after he punched him, he planned on doing it again and again until the man had the decency to stop looking shocked. Like Guts hitting him was some sort of overreaction or grand betrayal. No. Truth was, he earned that first punch and then some. He practically begged for it with that dumbass speech of his. But now, the look in his eyes told him that he wanted more and more.

Guts had recognized it immediately—that look. The bastard gave him the same one years ago, back during their last argument. He had hated it then, and he despised it even more now that Paul didn't have a leg to stand on.

Somehow, someway, the man actually found a way to convince himself that he was in the right here.

Guts grit his teeth.

Paul reached up, probably to pry off the hand holding him in place, but Guts was already moving to hit him again. If he was going to wipe that look off the bastard's face, he knew he needed to strike first—

"—Rudy!"

Guts's fist stopped immediately. Paul's hands stopped too. They both recognized who had called out to him, that much was clear.

Slowly, carefully, Paul's eyes drifted to somewhere behind Guts.

Guts followed the man's eyes and found his mother. Standing at the foot of the stairs with concern running deep in her blue eyes. Concern seemed to run deep in every part of her. In the tight frown her lips had themselves pressed into, in the stiffness her shoulders had locked themselves into, and in the outstretched hand she reached out to them with.

At that moment, time seemed to run still.

And within that stillness, confusion washed over him.

Zenith was worried. But who was it meant for? For him? For Paul? For both of them? He couldn't tell, but it was enough to get him to relax his grip on Paul.

The man pulled away immediately, leaving him and his mother to stare at one another.

She shook her head and smiled at him. "You don't have to go that far," she said without having to say anything at all.

Tch. Guts clicked his tongue and shot another glare at Paul before hopping off the table. A part of him considered heading straight back to his room. He had a feeling as to where this was going and he didn't want to see it come to fruition. Zenith didn't have the look of a woman who was about to give Paul and Lilia what they deserved.

However, he had been the one who inserted himself into this shit show to begin with. He figured that he might as well see things through to the end. Even if he ended up disliking the results.

As soon as Guts moved away from the table, Zenith made her move. However, instead of coming to him or Paul, she went over to Lilia.

They didn't say anything for a while. Zenith seemed content to stare at the side of Lilia's head, a tight-lipped frown giving away her search for the right words to say. Lilia seemed altogether reluctant to raise her head and meet his mother's eyes.

Then, a few tense moments later, Zenith let out a heavy sigh.

"Lilia, I want you to stay with us," she said.

Silence and stillness followed, both signaling the shock that filled the room.

Guts just furrowed his brows and frowned. More frustrated than surprised.

For her part, Lilia seemed surprised enough to compensate. Her head snapped up. Violet met blue and made one thing clear: she disagreed with the idea wholeheartedly.

"But Lady Zenith, I—" she began.

The maid stopped when his mother placed a hand on her shoulder. "—It's okay. Honestly, I can't really put into words how much what you did hurt me. Not only did you break my trust, but you helped my husband break a promise that meant the world to me."

"I did!" The way Lilia jumped to agree with her surprised Guts. He'd never seen or heard the maid act that way before; even in the most stressful situations, she always seemed able to keep calm and collected. Not this time, though. And that said a lot. Paul seemed to come to the same conclusion because he saw the man gulp hard from his peripheral vision. "You and your family have shown me nothing but kindness over the years and I still betrayed your trust. Forgive me for my impudence, Lady Zenith, but how could you possibly want me to stay after something like that?"

Suddenly, a smile appeared on Zenith's face—a smile that Guts recognized immediately. She used it a lot with him, almost always whenever he'd hurt himself and she needed to use healing magic on him. It did its best to be gentle and reassuring, but there was an undercurrent of worry that only made it more striking.

"Because that's what I want."

As always, seeing it stripped Guts of all desire to argue.

"Before I think of you as a maid, I think of you as a friend—no, a member of this family. I think about you leaving and I…. I don't know. I get this feeling that I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I let you do something that foolish."

The woman really was too kind for her own good.

As Lilia listened, tears began to well up in her eyes. He could see it in her—her fighting to disagree—but eventually, she fell forwards into her mother's chest and started sobbing.

Guts huffed and—not knowing what else to do—started to head for his room. If you were going to forgive her, you should've just saved me the trouble and done so from the start.

"Hey, Rudy," Zenith called out to him in a low whisper as he passed by. She winked at him once their eyes crossed. "Thank you for standing up for me."

Geez. He rolled his eyes, not feeling satisfied at all. You are way too nice, woman.

…

Guts couldn't sleep. He laid his head down and closed his eyes, but the stillness made him antsy. A silence fell over the house, seeped into his room, and drilled tension into his ears like he hadn't felt in years.

He knew. He'd felt this way before. He had to get up. He had to move. Otherwise, he'd be buried by it all.

So, that's what he did.

He got up out of bed, grabbed his practice sword, and snuck out of the house. Led by the moonlight, he went to the one place he could think of.

Thunk!

The wooden sword shook as it struck the tree trunk, using every bit of strength his body could muster. Years of practice had long since taken the sting off, but his persistence had numbed his hands to the point where he struggled to maintain his grip.

The crescent moon had been halfway in the sky when he first started. Now, it neared the horizon.

Guts didn't care. Not about his labored breathing, not about his sweat-drenched body, not about the weight that tugged on his eyelids—he couldn't care. He knew better than that. All he needed to focus on was the Sun and the fact that it would rise soon.

Thunk!

Otherwise…

Thunk!

He'd hear it.

Thunk!

The whispering hiding in the silence.

Thunk!

"Idiot."

Thunk!

"Coward."

Thunk!

"Hypocrite."

Thunk—!

Guts fell. On the follow-through of his last swing, he lost his balance and fell forwards. He landed on his side. Too tired to even feel it.

Rolling onto his back, he let his head lull to his left, towards the moon, and asked himself a question:

"The hell are you even doing here?"

…

Unsurprisingly, the next day, Guts's training with Paul was a lot more heated than usual.

Not that he was complaining. The feeling was mutual, after all.

…

Chapter End.

A/N: Fun fact: I listen to music while writing usually. "MTT 420 RR" by IDLES inspired a lot of this arc's tone.