Oliver x Reader || tpn fanfiction

Chapter 10 - the day after

Y/N pov

Lucas' words lingered in the air, and as he finished his explanation, I couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and trepidation. Last night's restless slumber filled with painful fantasies had left me emotionally drained. Yet, a glimmer of hope rose within me, imagining the possibility of Yuugo still being alive after nine long years.

But I quickly quelled those hopeful thoughts, understanding the odds were against such a scenario. The plausibility of Yuugo's survival seemed minuscule, and I didn't want to indulge in wishful thinking. Instead, I focused on the task at hand, absorbing all the information I was given.

The mission sounded simple in theory—gather information covertly, without exposing our knowledge. However, I knew it would be far more challenging than it appeared. Placing strategic traps for poachers, observing their reactions, analyzing their actions—all while risking our lives—required meticulous planning and quick thinking. The stakes were high, and it was essential to come back alive with the information we sought.

Oliver would be my mentor, guiding me through the basics of the operation. I also learned that I'd be providing support to Zack during the post-hunt medical rush. The meeting point at the windmill after the hunts would serve as a safety measure to ensure everyone's well-being.

As Lucas concluded his lecture, Oliver shook his head in understanding. I contemplated if I had any questions or uncertainties, but before I could shake my head in response, something stopped me. A nagging feeling made me reconsider. Though everything seemed to make sense so far, a lingering sense of doubt held me back.

After a moment of contemplation, I finally raised my hand, feeling the need to clarify something. It was better to be thorough and ensure I had a complete understanding of the task ahead. I voiced my inquiry, seeking the answers that would bring clarity to my mind.

As I anxiously asked about the missing pen, Lucas hesitated before responding, as if carefully choosing his words. 

"Like you said... it's an old model. The other pen doesn't compare to this one. They work similarly, but the password entry wasn't remotely the same. The pen was able to open the door, but I couldn't get any further with it. Indeed I'm convinced about Minerva being an ally, but... we don't have to wait for his help anymore." The disappointment weighed heavily on me; the pen had seemed like a glimmer of hope, a connection to Minerva, our potential ally.

"What do you mean..?"

"After Minerva's treachery got exposed by his 'closest friend', he probably got executed. I'm sure Minerva has built this village not to imprison and kill us here. It should become a safe place for us. It only became later on this playground for demons after the betrayal." Explained Lucas shattering any hope by sharing the grim truth about Minerva's fate. 

Despite the somber revelation, I tried to uplift Lucas, offering reassurance that having discovered an ally was still valuable information. It meant we were not entirely alone in this perilous world. Armed with the knowledge of both allies and enemies, we could better prepare ourselves for the challenges ahead.

I could see surprise on both Lucas and Oliver's faces at my encouraging speech. It seemed unexpected, but Lucas mustered a soft smile, embracing the shift in perspective.

As the conversation concluded, I assured them I had no further questions for the moment. However, I promised to reach out if anything else came to mind. With that, Oliver led me out of the windmill, and life in the small village seemed to return to its usual rhythm.

The sun illuminated the village, casting a hopeful glow over everything. I trailed behind Oliver like a lost chick, seeking comfort and guidance after their mother. Although the situation remained dire, the newfound knowledge gave us a sense of direction—a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness that surrounded us.

As we approached Paula and Pepe, I observed them diligently distributing food to everyone in the village. Oliver began explaining their roles—providing provisions for the villagers, including weapons, food, and medicine, which they received monthly from the demons. Today's meal was a frugal one, a soup concocted from leftovers, as wasting food was not an option.

Oliver handed me a bowl filled with the warm soup, leading the way to a table where we sat down. He handed me a spoon, and we prepared to eat. However, before we started, I took a moment to quietly observe the children around us. Some seemed downtrodden, their spirits weighed down by the harsh reality of their situation, while others animatedly chatted with one another, waving their spoons in the air.

Suddenly, a voice interrupted my thoughts, and I turned to find a black-haired young man addressing me. Our eyes met, and I couldn't help but feel captivated by the intensity of his gaze. It was Zack. "You feel sorry for them, don't you?" he asked. I sighed, considering the question carefully.

While some children seemed burdened by their circumstances, I couldn't afford to dwell on sympathy or self-pity. We were all in this together, trapped in the same dire situation. Dwelling on sorrow would only hinder our resilience. So, I responded honestly, admitting that while some children appeared resilient, others were more fragile emotionally. I smiled kindly at Zack, understanding the complexity of our shared predicament.

Silence enveloped us for a few moments before Zack joined Oliver and me at the table. Sandy and Sonya soon joined us, completing our gathering. Paula and Pepe also approached.

"Where is Nigle?" Sonya inquired about Nigel's whereabouts. 

"I'm not quite sure, but I'm sure he will show up in a bit." Paula reassured us.

"Yeah, he shows up late most of the time," notes Sandy

With everyone present except Nigle, Oliver calmly suggested we start eating before the soup got cold. The sentiment was shared, and we offered our gratitude for the meal before savoring it together. The camaraderie amidst our struggles brought a sense of comfort, and for a brief moment, the weight of our challenges seemed to lighten as we enjoyed this shared moment of warmth and nourishment.

As minutes ticked by, I couldn't help but wonder what kept Nigel away from the meal for so long. Finally, he rushed to our table, panting, and gratefully accepted the bowl Zack offered him.

Curious, Nigle asked us about our day, his mouth still full, but his sincere interest shone through. "The usual," replies Paula. "But what have you been doing for so long?"

"How about you finish your meal first and don't accidentally spit on me while you're eating?" Zack cuts Nigel off as he runs his hand over his own face.

"Oh, I am sorry!" Nigel quickly apologizes and seems to have hit Zack again.

"Just- eat," Zack murmurs as he runs his hand over his face again.

Some of us chuckle at the little banter, and others grin to themselves. Embarrassed by the attention, Nigel ate his soup in silence, not daring to look up again. Once we finished, he seized the opportunity to speak up.

Curious about our activities, Nigel inquired what we were doing for the day. Zack simply replied, "Training."

Nigel's reaction was comically exaggerated, and Sandy chimed in, adding that training was better than dying. Nigel, seemingly overwhelmed, dropped his head onto the table with a loud thud.

Pepe, ever the realist, asked Nigel if he wanted to die, to which he replied with a mumbled "No."

Oliver interjected with a smile, asserting that training was the way to go. Nigel's fate was sealed—training was in an hour.

As we laughed and exchanged playful remarks, the camaraderie and humor in the air helped us momentarily forget the weight of our predicament. It was a rare moment of levity in the midst of our challenges, and we embraced it with warmth and a sense of shared understanding.