"Your name is not Rhys."
"...I am pretty sure it is. Rhys Wilder, my name is Rhys Wilder."
"!!!"
Rhys could really only widen his eyes as Miquella just suddenly pushed him away. He quickly crouched down to try and defend himself; kill her as fast as possible if he needed to. But Miquella did not really do anything else but just stare at him with her eyes opened even wider.
She was not really saying anything, causing Rhys to also just stare at her as he figured out what to do next. He stared at the Hearts floating above her head, only to see the three Hearts that filled up during their intercourse to start flickering — all of them at the same time, something that had not really happened before.
"Who are you?" Miquella then said as she stared Rhys in the eyes, "Why would you even say that name!?"
"Why are you getting mad at me? You're the one who asked for my name," Rhys slightly crouched so that he could maneuver if he needed to. Rhys was not overestimating his strength at all, but he was sure he could take on quite a few of these gorgons — the only issue was his mobility.
With a single leg, there was really only so much he could do... unless, of course, he just moved through the shadows from now on.
"That's not your name."
"What's my name, then?" Rhys shook his head.
"I don't know, but it can't be that," Miquella also shook her head.
"But it is," Rhys shrugged, "And it doesn't matter, it would seem I've overstayed my welcome here. I'll try to find the one who sold me and get your gold back. The Shivellan, whatever they are, I'm just going to escape from them when the time comes...
...I'll see you again soon, Miquella."
Rhys then started grabbing the sheets and wrapping them around his body. It would have been nice to have some clothes, but it would seem he would need to do some extra steps just for that — the most important thing to do right now was to leave this place and hide somewhere, he wasn't safe here with Miquella suddenly becoming hysterical.
"Wait..."
But before Rhys could actually even start to leave Miquella's room, she grabbed his arm.
"...You're telling the truth."
"...Well, yes," Rhys breathed out, "Why would I even lie about my name in this situation? I'm in a completely strange place surrounded by strangers from another race."
"Because the name you uttered is something I—no. It's something we had heard every day when we were in school as children," Miquella closed her eyes and also let out a loud sigh, "It is a tale—no, it is a lesson of belief, history, and what follows it — a prophecy."
"You're not cursed, Miquella," Rhys could really only let out a sigh as he placed his hand on Miquella's cheek, "You are perfect as you are."
"P...please don't say something like that. My... my insides can't handle it anymore," Miquella quickly backed away; slightly covering herself as she did so, "But this is serious, Rhys! What if—"
"What if this doesn't have anything to do with me," Rhys stated while shaking his head, "It doesn't — this is all just a coincidence."
Of course, Rhys was not really confident with his words. Twice now — twice now he was told that he had some sort of great destiny ahead of him. And he had also already lost count of how many times he was told that his path would lead to him crossing fates with the gods.
Arachnea, First King Aethelblac, and now the history of the gorgons also included him. Every time, he tries his best to actively avoid being thrown into a mess he didn't want, but each time, the Fates seem to find a way to bring him in.
He truly doesn't want to get involved — he wanted to change the world, to conquer it so that he would never have to feel oppressed anymore. He's not some sort of hero that would lead the world to some sort of revelation that would lead them to rebel against the gods.
One could argue that all his tragedy began because the gods gifted them powers in the first place, but it wasn't the gods that fucked him, it was the humans themselves.
So why — why does the Fates want him to involve himself in whatever this is?
"Rhys...?" Miquella could really only lean closer to Rhys as he suddenly turned quiet.
"It... doesn't matter," Rhys shook his head and sighed, "You said it yourself, this Medusa person is dead."
"We can go to the shrine and ask. They will welcome you there, Rhys!" Miquella smiled. The air of maturity that previously surrounded her was completely gone.
"Or they will kill me for trying to desecrate your... religion," Rhys sighed.
"No," Miquella shook her head, "I know the Head Priestess, if I explain to her everything and introduce you, she would understand everything, more so than me. This is also the chance to gain your freedom."
"...I can just escape here and gain my freedom."
"The Shivellans will chase you everywhere," Miquella argued, "Wait, no—if you do this, if you come with me to the shrine, then I will remove the pledge and free you myself despite paying a lot of money for you."
"..." Rhys was truly thinking of just escaping here. He could just jump into the shadows and then summon Ayesha to help him — of course, that would mean that Ayesha would also be lost with him. There was also the fact that he didn't know if she was doing something important.
Perhaps... was it time to just actually face whatever the Fates have in store for him? After all, he was sure that if not this, then another event would just take its place — perhaps something even more forceful.
Rhys then turned to look at Miquella; her large eyes almost like a puppy now as she placed both her palms on his chest.
"Fine," Rhys sighed and nodded, "Let's... see what this is all about."