I Just Wanted to Avoid Death - Chapter 111
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Darkness engulfed his vision.
His body felt limp, limbs tingling as sensation drained away.
Yeshion knew this feeling well. It was the same peculiar sense of floating he always experienced whenever he died and began anew.
Quietly, he kept his eyes closed, brows faintly furrowing. By now, Rosaline’s sobs should have reached his ears, but strangely, no sound could be heard.
He blinked several times, yet nothing appeared before his eyes. But it wasn’t as if his body was bound or unable to move.
‘What’s going on…?’
He tried rubbing his eyes again and attempted to speak, but nothing changed.
As confusion deepened on his face, a familiar voice drifted from somewhere not far away.
“Am I just entertainment to a noble like you?”
A voice steeped in anger yet oddly calm.
It sounded like someone he’d heard daily, but younger.
Turning his head slightly, he saw a child seated nearby. Yet, he couldn’t approach nor speak to him.
‘…My voice won’t come out.’
As if witnessing a mere illusion, young Eldis wasn’t looking at him at all but elsewhere.
“Entertainment? Arrogant brat. You think it’s amusing to watch you get beaten?”
Before Eldis stood the figure of young ‘Yeshion.’
It was a scene of their childhood never mentioned in the original novel.
As Yeshion watched quietly, the young ‘Yeshion’ pulled something from his pocket and tossed it toward Eldis.
It was medicine from the temple, expensive enough to be afforded only by nobles or wealthy merchants.
“The only good thing you have is your face, so take care of it.”
“……”
“In this place filled with beggars, being injured only puts you at a loss.”
The moment ‘Yeshion’ finished speaking, the scene shifted again.
Inside a shabby hut of straw barely fit to be called a house, ‘Yeshion’ looked down scornfully at Eldis, whose entire face was freshly bruised again today.
“You got beaten up again?”
Rummaging carelessly through his shabby bag, Yeshion sighed and threw another medicine at him.
Emotionlessly tossed, the medicine hit Eldis’s shoulder and fell to the ground. Eldis stared at it for a moment, then instead of applying it, grabbed it and ran away.
Watching him go, ‘Yeshion’ made an incredulous face before scoffing lightly.
“Idiot.”
Similar scenes repeated themselves several times.
Eldis always had new bruises or wounds from constant beatings, and each time ‘Yeshion’ would let out a harsh grunt while giving him medicine.
Unexpectedly, the young ‘Yeshion’ was far less vicious than Yeshion had vaguely imagined. He seemed prickly and sensitive, perhaps, but not villainous or genuinely evil.
And this impression was also clear in Eldis’s expression toward ‘Yeshion.’ Rather than disgust or hatred, Eldis’s face held profound guilt.
Then, one day, ‘Yeshion’ spoke up.
“Idiots who know nothing but fists… Hey, starting today, stick close to me, watch my back.”
“…What?”
“You thought all that medicine I gave you was free? At least pretend to guard me.”
Despite his irritated tone, Eldis didn’t become annoyed. Rather, as if the medicine he’d received justified the cheap price, he awkwardly started staying close to ‘Yeshion.’
Time passed swiftly through scenes, and both boys had grown. Now wearing priestly robes, something subtly began to change.
“Get lost!”
‘Yeshion’ violently pushed Eldis away whenever he came close, hurling insults.
When they were back in the slums, he hadn’t minded touches—but at some point, he’d started acting like a mad dog, as if plagued by severe germophobia.
“You think becoming a priest made someone low-born like you worthy? Don’t touch me, you filthy bastard!”
As if deeply humiliated by something.
‘Yeshion,’ eyes rimmed with red, screamed as though shouting not at Eldis, but at someone else entirely.
Yet Eldis failed to notice the change. Told to step away, he simply backed off several paces, continuing to quietly observe ‘Yeshion.’
Scenes shifted again, marking the slow passing of time.
The lanky ‘Yeshion’ grew taller and taller, but his expression darkened continually. Those rare bright smiles from the slums now seemed no more than a distant dream.
“You say you can’t do it? Strange. I never thought the Priest Yeshion would be this weak.”
“……”
“Well, fine. If you can’t, I suppose there’s no choice. Then, in exchange for your life, kill sixteen Priests and the Saintess.”
“N-no!”
In the vision, ‘Yeshion’ pledged loyalty to a faceless woman.
Yet gradually, her demands grew harsher and crueler.
Framing others, poisoning, loosening carriage wheels—initially, these seemed minor tasks, but each ended in someone’s death.
Darkness took hold as soon as ‘Yeshion’ realized the truth and declared he wouldn’t do such deeds anymore, the woman brazenly commanded him to kill.
It was the result of a wrong choice.
If he refused the command, she would target not ‘Yeshion,’ but those around him.
