Grind-to-Cash System: Buy SSS Skills to Spam them Infinitely with Cash-Chapter 25 - Romantic Drama, My Ass

Mirea didn't pull back.

She didn't flinch at the tears or shy from the weight collapsing into her arms. She simply wrapped herself around her sister and held her tight—arms trembling, breath short, but unshakably present.

Her grip wasn't soft. It was desperate, fierce, like she was afraid Maira might disappear again if she let go even for a second.

Her body was hot from the sprint, her chest still rising in shallow gasps, but her voice, when it came, was firm.

"I'm here now," she whispered.

Maira blinked. The words echoed somewhere deep. Her throat clenched.

"I'm here," Mirea repeated, this time quieter. Firmer. "You're not a burden. Not now. Not ever."

The words didn't fix the years of guilt. The late nights Maira pretended not to hear her sister cry in the kitchen while preparing medicine. The long mornings where Mirea smiled through hunger just so Maira wouldn't feel guilty for being too weak to fetch bread.

But they did something.

They held her.

Then Mirea reached behind her head and tugged loose the gag, fingers fumbling slightly, nails chipping the old knot. The cloth slipped from her lips with a wet sigh. Cool air hit her raw skin.

Next came her wrists.

Strands unwound. Pressure faded. And with one final pull, they gave way.

Maira gasped.

Pins and needles rushed up her arms. Her fingers twitched in shock. Blood roared back into her limbs like thunder, like punishment. It hurt—but she welcomed it.

Because this pain was hers.

Her limbs were hers again.

She wasn't just lying there, waiting to be stolen.

She was alive.

And not alone.

Together, they huddled into the shadowed curve of the cart, dragging themselves lower, away from the gaping door.

Beyond it, the chaos of violence dulled. Blades no longer rang.

Boots no longer pounded. Only the distant hum of tension remained, like a storm hiding in the trees.

For a moment, it felt like peace.

Then a voice ripped through the forest, hoarse and full of rage.

"THERE!!"

Maira flinched, her hand shooting out to grip Mirea's sleeve.

From the brush stumbled a man—massive, blood-slicked, and very much alive. His face was wrecked. One eye purpled shut. His jaw misaligned. His blade was cracked, but he still held it with purpose, and his breath came in furious bursts.

Spit flew from his lips as he roared,

"You're not getting away— you bitches are dead!!"

He charged, boots tearing up mud, spit flying from gritted teeth. He wasn't human anymore. He was violence with legs.

Maira's body locked.

Her legs kicked uselessly. Her hands scrambled against the wood, trying to pull Mirea backward—but her limbs were too slow, her body too broken.

All she could do was stare.

She shut her eyes, breath hitching.

She was helpless again.

And then... something stepped in front of her.

Not loudly. Not dramatically.

Just—there.

Solid.

Alive.

The man with the stick, the stranger who had spilled blood for her without asking a name, took a single step forward and raised his makeshift weapon again.

He didn't look back.

He didn't speak.

He just moved—slow, exhausted—and lifted the stick in one bleeding hand. The dome, cracked at the edges, glowed brighter. Its light expanded outward, pulsing once—then wrapped around them like a second skin.

"Die, YOU WHORES!"

The brute screamed and swung.

CLANG—

The blade struck the dome with a violent crack—metal against light—and for a second, sparks lit the air like fireworks in the dusk.

Maira flinched, shielding her eyes.

But the sound... stopped.

The sword hadn't pierced.

It had shattered.

Her lashes fluttered as she looked again, breath caught somewhere in her throat. Not at the pieces of the blade scattering into dirt. Not at the attacker flying backwards.

But at him.

That man.

He hadn't even turned around.

Just stood there. Between them and everything.

Maira blinked again. Slowly. Once. Twice. Her eyes refused to leave the shape of him—barefoot, bloodied, drenched in sweat. His back was broad, scarred, muscles tight with tension. His stick hung low now, nearly split in half, yet he held it like it still had purpose.

She couldn't see his face.

And maybe that was what made it worse.

Because he didn't need to look at her. Didn't need her thanks. Didn't ask if she was alright.

He had simply stood up.

Fought.

And bled.

For her.

The dome's light shimmered around his frame like a quiet flame, and for a moment, it wasn't just a magical barrier—it was a man's body, choosing to be the wall she never had.

Mirea was silent beside her, still braced protectively over Maira's shoulder. But even she... paused. Looked up. Her jaw was clenched, eyes narrowed, heart pounding in her chest.

She'd always been the one who stood between her sister and the world. Until now.

Maira's throat tightened.

Her hand, still trembling, gently reached to touch Mirea's fingers. Just to ground herself. Just to feel real.

Because her whole life, she'd been alone in ways no one ever understood.

There had been no father, no brother, no guardian.

No steady hand ruffling her hair. No firm voice telling her she was safe.

The only warmth she had ever known came from Mirea—and Mirea had carried too much.

A man?

No. That had always been a fantasy. Too dangerous to hope for. Too far away to believe.

And now...

She stared at that back.

The sweat trailing down the spine. The small trembling in the shoulders. The way he didn't even shift under the weight of their lives behind him.

Something stirred in her chest.

It wasn't romantic.

It wasn't clear.

But it was deep.

She swallowed, blinking fast, her breath catching in her throat. "He... he stood for me..."

Her voice didn't carry far.

"Shut the hell up, woman! This is not a romantic drama—help me!" Vex yelled, clearly frustrated as his money drained away so quickly that he had forgotten about saving the beauty and becoming the hero.

He was literally getting annoyed now. Even though he might recover it later, he needed to see some profit right now.

Moving across the ocean for such a long distance had already consumed a significant amount of his gold coins, and fighting these people was taking too much of a toll on his wallet.

And these women were trying to recreate a cliché romance drama scene reused hundreds of times again and again in every damn movie here!?

Blasphemy!