His vision would not focus. He couldn't feel his feet drag across the icy snow, nor could he tell what direction he was supposed to go. Pecks of snow latched onto his face and melted into his burning skin. The man's shoulder was held in an awkward position by his other hand, which was stained with dried blood and slowly drooping down from fatigue. His eyes were so damn puffed up, he might as well had cried over a death of his loved one. Still, even if he was exhausted, he needed to find warmth. Otherwise, he could really die.
Isn't this what he deserved though? After killing his own brother? After murdering his only family all because he was too weak? They were supposed to go explore the world as a pair, an adventurer and a knight. Yet here he was, venturing out in a blizzard alone and pretending to be a dead man.
Najin should've been the one that survived. He was the hero, after all. He saved the village from that deadly fire. He always looked out for his people, helping the elderly with their goods and making sure the community was safe. When he arrived home from his training, he was welcomed with warmth. Sure, crowds would get rowdy, but they still greeted Najin with enthusiasm.
Nagyunn, on the other hand? Pshhh.
The people would glare at him with disgust. He was the one that started the fire and the reason for casualties and destruction. He was to blame for all the village's problems. He was weak unlike his counterpart, and never regarded as useful to his hometown. Instead, he served as a target for harassment because that was all he was good for. He was a laughingstock.
No one really cared when Nagyunn "died." People only cared because their savior was grieving over family. Not the family itself.
The throbs in his shoulder were sharpening. This wasn't good. The world was slowly spinning, and he found it harder and harder to maintain stability. The cold sucked the moisture out of his eyes, and his ears burned like they were catching on fire. His fingers felt like they were about to freeze off, yet his face was flaring up, painted with a rosy color across his nose and cheeks. You'd think he was working as a clown with how red his face was.
It was a good thing he found a scarf and thick robe to wear before coming across the diamond masks. If he hadn't, their swords would have cut deeper than bone. However, the weight of the cloth pulled him down and demanded more energy to hold himself up. He was already struggling to walk on his feet without tripping, and the extra burden of fabric did not help at all.
God, the fog was getting worse. Was it fog? No, it was his eyes drying out. He needed to find somewhere to warm up and hydrate, but the farther he stumbled, the less clear his surroundings were. Everything was blending into a blinding white. Was he really going to survive this time?
Honestly, it was a surprise he made it this far with only his wit. He lied his way throughout tense situations and manipulated his own peers. This was probably just punishment for being so dishonest. But what else was he supposed to do? He's not Najin, even if he pretended to be. He wasn't strong, nor could he have the courage to defend a mere stranger. Nagyunn was weak and untalented; he wasn't meant to be a knight. Najin should've taken that role so that Nagyunn could do the adventuring instead.
But now, he was alone with no one to rely on. Though to be fair, he couldn't even act like his true self with anyone that wanted to support him. He was always acting as his brother or a spy, but rarely could he act weak. He could only show a bit of his true personality with his own enemies, but even then they were breathing down on his neck. Only now, when he was truly alone with no one to support him could he finally be himself. But now that there wasn't anyone to help, he was going to die. Alone. No one will remember even a shell of his brother, now. And everyone had already forgotten about Nagyunn. Hell, nearly all of who he met had probably never heard of that name.
