Chapter 227: Gregor’s Confession [ 1 ]

The silence that followed Gregor’s words wasn’t relief, acceptance, or even the quiet that comes when pain has been shared and lightened. Instead, it felt like the stillness before a collapse, as if the room itself was bracing for impact.

Every breath was drawn too carefully, every heartbeat echoed too loudly in the absence of sound. The air felt heavy enough to press against their chests, making even breathing feel like a laborious task.

Gregor stood beside Calista’s bed, his shoulders trembling slightly and his hands clenched so tightly at his sides that the veins on his wrists bulged beneath his skin.

Though no one spoke or moved, the weight of everything he had kept bottled up began to seep through the cracks. It wasn’t a violent outburst; it was a slow and relentless fracture that could no longer be contained.

“I still shouldn’t have…” he began, his voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. He paused, swallowing hard as if the words themselves were bitter.

His gaze remained fixed on the floor, unable to meet theirs because doing so would mean confronting what he believed he had caused.

His chest rose and fell unevenly. When he spoke again, the restraint holding him together started to unravel.

“I still shouldn’t have pushed so hard. I shouldn’t have insisted. I shouldn’t have stood there convincing everyone it was worth the risk, that we could handle it… that we were strong enough.”

His voice trembled but steadied momentarily before shaking again, like someone precariously walking on a tightrope stretched over an abyss.

“If I hadn’t done that,” he continued more rapidly now as if once unleashed, there was no stopping it, “none of this would have happened. You wouldn’t be lying here missing an arm. We wouldn’t have almost died in that place. The Guild wouldn’t have been attacked. Those Adventurers… wouldn’t have died. Mina wouldn’t be unconscious right now. The Guildmaster wouldn’t be preparing to split his soul just to save her… and all of it….”

He paused again as breath hitched in his throat; his shoulders shook harder now. “All of it traces back to me.”

Leona opened her mouth to speak but found herself at a loss for words. She saw how Gregor’s fingers trembled and how tightly he clenched his jaw as if holding himself together by sheer willpower alone.

This wasn’t something reassurance could easily fix; this was festering guilt growing heavier with each passing hour, every memory replaying in his mind until it became unbearable.

Gregor let out a quiet laugh devoid of humor, a hollow sound scraping painfully against the silence.

“I was greedy,” he admitted, the confession slipping from his lips like a weight finally lifted.

“That’s what it was. I saw the mission, the reward, the chance to push us forward, and I convinced myself it was worth it. I convinced all of you it was worth it. And I kept pushing… even when part of me knew something was off, even when there were signs that things weren’t right. I ignored them because I didn’t want to lose the opportunity.”

His voice cracked. “And because of that greed… people died.”

The room grew colder.

“I don’t just bear responsibility for what happened to us,” he continued, his voice dropping lower and heavier.

“I carry the blood of everyone who fell that day, adventurers who trusted the Guild, people who believed in what we were building. Mina… who jumped in front of an attack meant for someone else. The Guildmaster… who is now ready to sacrifice his future because of my choices.”

Tears began to slide down his face, silently at first, then steadily soaking into his collar as his breathing grew uneven.

“I can’t wash that away,” he said quietly. “No matter what anyone says or how much time passes. I can’t pretend it wasn’t my decision that set everything in motion. I can’t pretend that if I had just… stopped, if I had let the mission pass, if I hadn’t insisted so strongly…”

This time, his voice broke completely; the words collapsed into raw sound as he struggled to breathe.

“Maybe everyone would still be whole.”

No one interrupted him or tried to deny it because they understood that what he was saying stemmed not just from logic but from deep guilt, the kind that doesn’t fade simply because someone tells you it wasn’t your fault; the kind that digs into your soul and refuses to let go.

Gregor’s knees trembled as he instinctively reached out for support, gripping the edge of the bed while lowering his head further as if surrendering under a weight too heavy to bear.

“I see it every time I close my eyes,” he whispered. “The mission. The moment I convinced everyone. The fight. The screams. The bodies. The Guild burning. Mina suffering. The Guildmaster pain… preparing to give up everything.”

His grip tightened until his knuckles turned white. “And I keep thinking… if only I had stayed silent… if only I hadn’t said anything… none of this would have happened.”

The tears came harder now; his shoulders shook openly as restraint crumbled away and guilt spilled out without filter or protection.

“I don’t deserve to stand here with all of you,” he said hoarsely. “I don’t deserve forgiveness or to be called your friend after dragging everyone into something so destructive. I was supposed to protect you, that’s what I told myself; that’s what I believed I was doing but instead…”

He lifted his head slightly, his eyes red and face wet, an expression of utter devastation etched across his features. “I became the reason you all almost died.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating, pressing down on everyone present. This wasn’t just Gregor speaking anymore; it was the truth as he saw it, a burden he had chosen to bear, regardless of whether anyone else agreed.

The moonlight crept across the floor, touching Gregor’s feet, then his knees, as if offering a cold, silent witness to his confession. It offered no comfort, only presence.

For the first time since entering the room, he let go. He completely broke down not with loud sobs or dramatic gestures, but in a quiet collapse.

Tears streamed down his face as he stood there, shoulders trembling and breath uneven. The mask of composure shattered, revealing a torrent of raw grief and guilt that he could no longer contain.

He understood now that this weight wouldn’t simply fade away with time; it wouldn’t be eased by kind words or reassurances.

This was a burden he would carry for the rest of his life and deep down, he knew it.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep