WeTried Translations

Translator: Joy

Editor: Joy

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◈ Damned Transmigration

Chapter 45

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…

Elena asked no more questions. She simply sat in the suffocating silence of the room and listened to his story.

It began before he ever met her, back when the name Yuri belonged to someone else. It happened in Oldor, while her childhood friend was living as a low-ranking grunt for a third-rate gang called the Black Snake Gang.

The story culminated on the day that gang was wiped out, the very event that had compelled Gordon to send his desperate letter.

One of the raiders who stormed their turf had stabbed Yuri in the stomach. And on that day, in a puddle of his own blood on a filthy floor, Elena Heinderga’s childhood friend died.

The transmigration was immediate.

The soul who took his place, this man sitting before her now, had dragged the dying body to Gordon’s shop, reported the massacre, and had the wound treated. He then lived in Yuri’s empty house for a month, trying to make sense of a world that was not his own, which was where he was when Elena, having received Gordon’s letter, finally found him.

“Yuri… is dead?”

Elena barely managed to force the words past the lump in her throat.

She knew of transmigrators: beings from another world, ensnared by an evil god’s trap, who possessed the bodies of the living, extinguishing the original soul to steal its vessel.

A typical case would make the man before her a monster, the murderer who had killed the ‘real’ Yuri and was now wearing his face like a mask.

But his claim that the real Yuri was already gone before he arrived threw her into a tailspin. First, she wondered if such a thing was even possible. Then, a cynical part of her suspected it was a lie, a carefully crafted story to deflect her immediate hatred.

What if it wasn’t a lie, though? What if the Yuri she had known as a child was truly gone before this man ever appeared? If… if that were true…

“…”

Elena bit her lip until she tasted blood.

Even if that part was true, it changed nothing about the foundation of their entire relationship. This man, this transmigrator, had lied to her from the very first breath he took in her presence. Pretending to be Yuri when he wasn't… that alone was a monstrous, unforgivable deception.

The only reason she had brought him to her mansion was because she believed he was Yuri.

Her childhood friend.

The boy from the Oldor Orphanage who had protected her from bullies, who had gifted her the worn-out doll that still sat on her bedside table, and who had tearfully seen her off the day she left for the Mage Tower.

The Yuri she had exchanged letters with for ten years, the Yuri she worried over with every line she wrote.

The person she had gone to meet, dressed in her finest white dress and hat, was that Yuri, the friend she hadn't seen in a decade.

The boy she found living in a shabby room, wasting his days as a dogsbody for a gang, the person she couldn't bear to leave behind, that was her Yuri.

“You’re…”

The man who now sat before her was the one who greeted her each morning, who shared her table at every meal, who saw her off for the day.

He was the one she had laughed with, gone to auctions with, and read books with in the quiet of the living room.

The man who trained relentlessly in the garden, who would knock softly on her library door with tea when she studied too long, who would gently cover her with a blanket when she dozed off at her desk.

The one whose quiet words of departure had sent a pang of loss through her heart.

He was the man who had travelled with her for a fortnight, who had gifted her a beautiful blue hairpin she cherished too much to even wear, and who had ignored her desperate pleas to run, stepping forward to face a demon and save their lives.

“…”

‘You are not Yuri!’

The words were a scream in her mind, but she couldn't force them from her lips.

He could have kept lying. He could have maintained the facade forever, but he hadn’t. And he hadn't run when she told him to.

Was it a calculated risk? A belief that their chances were better fighting as three?

‘Run.’

She remembered it now. When she was on the verge of collapse, she hadn’t heard his voice, but she had seen his lips form that single, desperate command.

“Why didn't you run?” Elena finally asked, her voice a hollow whisper.

“Because I thought I'd regret it.”

She didn't know what expression to make. It felt as if every muscle in her face had turned to stone.

“Regret? Regret what?”

“I didn't want you or Haryeong to die.”

His simple answer made her unconsciously clutch the fabric of her robe, her knuckles white.

“The fact that the Yuri I knew is already dead… Is that… true?”

“Yes.”

The confirmation sent a tremor through her heart.

This entire conversation was an exercise in bitter self-loathing, an extension of the helplessness she’d felt on the mountain.

If she had been stronger, if she could have killed the Blood Fiend herself, this truth would have remained buried. She could have gone on believing, pretending, living in the comfortable lie.

Her childhood friend was dead. His death was not this man's fault.

But the one who had lived with her, the one who had become so deeply intertwined with her life… was the man sitting before her now.

It had all begun with a lie.

If she hadn't believed he was her friend, she would never have brought him into her life. But Elena had loved that life. She had fallen asleep each night looking forward to the morning and woken up happy.

“I… I honestly… don't know,” she stammered, her breathing ragged. “I don't know if I can believe anything you're saying. But I know this one thing. You… you've been lying to me this entire time.”

“…”

“I know you might not have had a choice,” she conceded, her voice barely audible.

“But it's so hard to accept. You… you're not Yuri.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Then why did you save us? Why did you tell me to run?”

“Because you're my friend.”

Her shoulders trembled.

“Right… a friend,” she repeated, the word tasting like ash in her mouth.

“A friend. Yes. Not a childhood friend.”

Silence descended again, thick and heavy. Elena looked up at the ceiling, fighting a desperate battle to keep the tears from falling.

“Liar.”

The quiet word shattered the stillness.

“In the end, that's all you are. A liar who took Yuri's body and deceived everyone.”

It was the undeniable truth.

“What… what did it feel like?”

Her voice grew harsh, laced with a raw, broken edge.

She lowered her head, fixing him with a gaze brimming with unshed tears.

“All of it…! It was all a performance, wasn't it? When I told you stories about the old days, about the orphanage… what I was like, what he was to me…! When I told you those things… what were you feeling when you answered me?”

There was no defense he could offer.

“You were laughing at me, weren't you?”

Her lips twisted, a scar of a smile on her tear-streaked face.

“You must have been laughing. At the stupid girl who never suspected a thing, who poured out her heart to a complete stranger. Weren't you?”

“No.”

Yuri had to cut in, his voice firm.

“I swear, I never laughed at you. I lied to you, that’s true, but I never once laughed.”

“Don’t lie to me!”

Crackle!

The furious shout unleashed a surge of raw magic, blue electricity arcing around her body.

“You did laugh! You used me! Pretending to be Yuri when you weren't…!”

“Please, Elena…!”

“Don’t call me that!” she screamed, clutching her head as her turbulent emotions manifested as a crackling storm.

Haryeong, who had been a silent statue in the corner, simply folded her arms, making no move to interfere.

“You don't have the right to say my name. Because you're not… you're not Yuri…”

Finally, the dam broke.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, evaporating with a soft hiss as they touched the electric field around her.

“What is all this…? Why… why did it have to be like this? I… you…”

The electricity grew more violent. Yuri reached for her, a desperate, instinctive gesture. Startled, Elena swatted his hand away.

“Don’t touch me!”

Fzzt!

A bolt of lightning lashed out, engulfing his hand.

He bit his lip, choking back a groan of pain. The acrid smell of burning flesh snapped Elena back to her senses.

She clapped a hand over her mouth, stumbling back.

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

The lightning vanished.

Elena stared at his trembling, scorched hand, then squeezed her eyes shut.

“I… I don't know,” she muttered into the silence.

“I know you saved us. You could have kept lying. But… the lies… they’re too much.”

“…”

“Yuri.”

The name was a terrible contradiction on her lips.

The real Yuri was dead, yet she couldn't call this man anything else. Even as she condemned him, the name remained. It had been too precious, had occupied too much of her heart to simply discard. And that only made the betrayal cut deeper.

“Are you going to keep calling me that?” he asked, a bitter smile touching his lips as he clutched his injured hand.

Elena hesitated.

“I… don't know any other name for you,” she admitted, her voice hollow.

“And I don't want to. To me… you're Yuri. A liar. A transmigrator. A fake.”

Tears began to fall again.

Were they for the friend who was gone, or for the one who was never real? She was afraid to know the answer.

“Let's end it like this,” she said, her voice gaining a brittle finality.

And with that, she ran from the truth, from him.

“We're finished. I won't be returning to Rutlan with you.”

“…”

“I have no intention of telling anyone what you are. I… won't think about you. I won't send any letters. So, I hope you'll do the same.”

There was so much more she could have asked, about the divine power he’d used, about everything. But it would all just be more lies, wouldn't it?

“I…” Yuri let out a long sigh.

“I am a liar. You’re right. I’m not Yuri, and I’m not your childhood friend. I imitated him, and I used you.”

He met her gaze.

“I lived in the room you gave me, wore the clothes you bought, and learned the martial arts you provided.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, the words simple and heavy.

“I’m sorry for lying. And I’m sorry for taking your friend’s body. I don't know how you'll take this, but… I enjoyed our time together. I enjoyed our friendship. That's why I wanted to hide it so badly.”

In the end, his feelings had been genuine, even if the premise was false.

“Me too…”

‘I didn't want to know,’ she thought, swallowing the words.

She roughly wiped the tears from her face, her eyes drawn against her will to his burnt hand.

Afraid to look at his face, at his eyes, for too long, Elena finally turned away.

“Goodbye.”

It was her last word. The rest remained buried in her heart, a confusing mess of grief for the friend who was gone and the one who now stood before her.

Yuri stared blankly at the closed door.

Should he have stopped her? Begged for forgiveness? He didn't know if there was a right answer. Truthfully, her reaction had been far kinder than he’d deserved. He had seen her swallow her words, hold back the true depths of her rage and sorrow.

“Ahem…”

A soft cough from the side snapped him from his daze. Haryeong was still sitting there, her gaze fixed on him with unnerving intensity.

“That looks painful. Are you all right?” she asked, nodding towards his hand.

It stung, but he barely felt it.

“Wha… what is it?” he stammered, unsettled by her calm presence.

“Why are you still here?”

“I am a perceptive assassin,” Haryeong replied, her face as blank as ever.

“I may be Lady Elena's guard, but what she needs now is to be alone. If I were with her, she wouldn't be able to cry freely.”

She paused.

“Though, one could say I’ve failed as a guard. If I had been stronger, none of this would have been revealed.”

“I also need some time alone, you know.”

“Unfortunately, as you are not my employer, I feel no particular need to show you such consideration. Lady Elena has had her say. I have not.”

“What, are you going to condemn me as a liar too?”

“It is true that you are a liar,” she said with a shrug.

“But I do not particularly care. You and I are not childhood friends. My first memory of you is from a run-down apartment in Oldor. It makes no difference to me whether you are a transmigrator or not.”

Her hand moved to her belt.

“The reason I have remained is to offer you my thanks.”

“Your thanks?”

“Yes. You saved my life as well. Therefore, is it not proper to express my gratitude? I am just that sort of moral assassin.”

What she drew from her belt was a single, exquisitely crafted black dagger.

“This is Black Fang. I treasure it greatly. It never dulls, and it returns when thrown, though I do not throw it, for I cherish it so.”

“And you’re giving it to me?”

“Did you think I took it out just to show it off?”

She spun it deftly and presented the handle to him.

“I am just that sort of kind assassin who doesn't hand over a blade edge-first.”

“Are you sure? You said you treasure it.”

“It is fine. I have another.”

A second dagger, pure white, appeared in her other hand.

“Is its name, by any chance, White Fang?”

“How did you know? Chilling.”

“It was rather obvious…”

“Together, they are the Twin Fangs. Any assassin would kill for them. Handle it with care,” she stressed.

“Do not throw it unless absolutely necessary. Do not lose it. If possible, do not even use it. Just carry it with you. Always.”

“How many times are you going to say that?”

“Well, think of Heuga as me, Yuri. I may ask for it back later.”

“Ask for it back?”

“Lady Elena may act as though she will never see you again, but what of it? The future is unknown. We may cross paths again, and I may need it then, wouldn't you say?”

She paused, her gaze distant.

“Separate from the dagger, I have no intention of revealing your secret, either. However… I imagine Lady Orca will have her own suspicions.”

Yuri’s expression stiffened. Orca was a different matter entirely.

“Well,” Haryeong continued, “I doubt you need to worry. Even if she discovers the truth, she will not harm you. You saved Lady Elena. If you were to die by Lady Orca's hand, the Lady Elena of today would never forgive her.”

Seeing him tuck the dagger away, Haryeong finally rose.

“I believe I must go and wipe away my lady’s tears now.”

As she reached the door, Yuri called out.

“Haryeong. My memory is hazy… when the Blood Fiend was dying… did he say anything?”

It was a lie. He remembered every word. He needed to know if she had heard it too.

Haryeong turned, her face a perfect, impassive mask.

“Did he leave any last words?”

“I think so, but I can’t recall.”

“My apologies, Yuri. I was concentrating on my internal injuries. I heard nothing.”

She gave a slight bow.

“Well then. If fate allows it, let us meet again.”

The door closed, leaving Yuri alone.

‘Is she telling the truth?’ he wondered, his hand resting on the cool metal of the dagger.

He honestly couldn't tell. And right now, he didn't want to think about it anymore.

‘So, I was found out after all.’

Yuri let out a long, ragged sigh and flopped back onto the bed.

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