Chapter 19: A Conversation in the Cell

—At some point, Bronya had heard this saying:
"It’s not hard to die beautifully, but it’s hard to live beautifully."

If one wanted to be praised after death, they could simply join the Silvermane Guards and sacrifice their life in the fight against the rift. The merits of any who fell in battle would never be forgotten.

This was all they had left—their comrades would do everything in their power to ensure their legacy endured. Until they, too, became names etched on cold, lifeless tombstones.

Similarly, most Silvermane Guards could hardly be said to "live" beautifully. They had almost no leave, their bodies riddled with hidden injuries from constant high-intensity combat. For those stationed in the frontline exclusion zones, it was uncertain whether they could return home even once a year.

Moreover, since the current Supreme Guardian took office, the casualty rate among the Silvermane Guards had been rising year after year, without a single decline.

For their families, this was also an excruciating reality.

This blood-stained glory and sacrifice could not always be called "worth it."

Bronya deeply mourned the young soldiers who died too soon.

The first time they stepped onto the battlefield, they faced monsters that had trapped humanity within the city for seven hundred years. These creatures showed no mercy, never stopping despite pain, and even when killed, they would reform and launch endless waves of attacks.

The only thing the Silvermane Guards could do was use their frail bodies to form a wall of flesh, paving the way for victory in the bloody battles to come.

Because of this, at the funerals of her comrades, facing the families of the fallen, Bronya’s heart was always heavy. She could only comfort them—and numb herself—with the words, "This is a necessary sacrifice for the survival of humanity."

Yet everyone knew that if not for the current Supreme Guardian’s increasingly radical tactics, driving the Silvermane Guards to counterattack the frontlines in pursuit of victory, the casualty rate might not have been so high.

The rift phenomenon was not so severe that humanity would perish without such measures.

Otherwise, humanity would have been wiped out countless times in the past. The birth of a population takes time, and the training of soldiers requires generations of effort. But the rift monsters needed no such preparation—the only thing restraining them was the speed at which the rift spread.

If they had simply maintained a stable defense and waited for the right moment, the rift might not have "raged" as it did now, accelerating its spread in response to human aggression.

According to statistical data, the rift monsters’ activity fluctuated in response to human actions. Constant fighting and killing within the rift caused the crystalline elements released by the monsters’ deaths to become beacons, even forming residual shadows of past enemies.

The former made the monsters emerging from the rift stronger and more dangerous. The latter were powerful foes from past battles, capable of awakening at any moment.

In reality, the Supreme Guardian’s current achievements did not match the sacrifices made.

People were still trapped within the city, resource shortages worsened due to mismanagement, and the frontline Silvermane Guards were nearing their breaking point.

Recently, there had been an increase in deserters. Despite the Supreme Guardian’s speeches and the officers’ strict supervision and harsh punishments, the trend could not be stopped.

If this continued, the final strategy might be to destroy the frontline transportation hubs, leaving the soldiers with no retreat.

As the future Supreme Guardian, Bronya knew too much about these internal issues, and it filled her with anxiety. Even though she could always convince herself that the Supreme Guardian had deeper intentions, each time, she was met with disappointment.

Gradually, Bronya came to believe that in this city, it was nearly impossible for anyone to truly "live" beautifully.

The beautiful fantasies of her childhood had shattered as she grew older, becoming difficult to recall.

Only when she saw the Upper District thriving under the Supreme Guardian’s rule could she breathe a little easier.

But now, the person before her—this bard who called himself Venti—was living more "beautifully" than most, even in the cold, dark prison.

With her education and life experience, Bronya found it hard to understand.

—Why are you so carefree? Why do you feel no shame? Why can you still joke with me in such a situation?

These questions filled her heart, yet she couldn’t bring herself to voice them. Silence lingered in the prison cell.

But this silence fit her expectations, while the bard did not. He sat up from the ground, casually brushing off nonexistent dust, and looked at her with a carefree smile.

"Huh? Aren’t you going to answer me? We’ve got such a rare bond as cellmates."

"...What nonsense are you spouting?"

Bronya finally couldn't help but question.

"Do you realize you’re tarnishing the reputation of the Supreme Guardian’s heir? Just for that, your sentence could be extended by years."

In this city, where power was concentrated in one person, any words that defamed the Supreme Guardian were unforgivable crimes.

Even though she wasn’t the Supreme Guardian yet, to the people and her colleagues, it was only a matter of time.

Therefore, even if not for herself, but for her mother, who had grown increasingly distant, she couldn’t allow this bard to continue spouting nonsense.

"Hmm, is that how you see my words?"

Venti wasn’t intimidated. Instead, he looked at her with the same indulgent gaze one might give a young child.

This left Bronya feeling conflicted, but surprisingly, she didn’t feel offended or disrespected.

On the contrary, she could tell his attitude was sincere and free of malice.

But if he was sincere, why did he always arrive at conclusions so different from everyone else? Why did he insist on flaunting this uniqueness that the world wouldn’t allow?

Knowing full well that it would only bring him pain, knowing that it would only earn him disdain, knowing... that his songs couldn’t change anything.

Why could he persist in his ways?

Bronya gripped the iron bars of the cell, her hands tightening unconsciously. The creaking sound was almost frightening.

Venti took a small step back, putting on a timid expression.

"Whoa, you’re not going to take justice into your own hands, are you?"

"...Of course not."

Bronya felt somewhat helpless in the face of his constant irreverence. She could only respond coldly.

"In a couple of days, the Silvermane Guards will release you. After that, don’t speak of this to anyone, and don’t sing those forbidden songs anymore. This is for your own good."

"Why?"

"That’s how it’s always been in Belobog."

"Just because it’s always been that way, does that make it right?"

The atmosphere fell into silence again, and Bronya pressed her lips together, feeling anger toward him for the first time.

"Are you trying to overturn everything Belobog has stood for since ancient times?"

"I think we should be more precise here—at least the parts that aren’t good."

"Good and bad aren’t for you to decide—"

"But at least the people living here should have a say, right?"

Bronya froze, a fleeting look of panic crossing her face, which Venti caught immediately.

Like a "witch" skilled at tempting princesses, he leaned closer to the bars and whispered to her.

"Do you want to see for yourself? To see if the training you’ve received can truly lead the people to the lives they desire?

To see if the people living beneath us are truly as well-fed and clothed as the streets proclaim under the Supreme Guardian’s rule?"