Chapter 56: Aftercare (2)

It was an evening that felt as though the entire world was submerged in water.

Gray rain poured relentlessly, hammering the ground.

The mist from the rain rose like a veil, obscuring vision, and the damp humidity clung to the skin, almost as if it were trying to make contact.

Any ground with the slightest hint of soil had long since turned into a muddy paddy field.

It was the kind of evening that made those living in civilized areas feel grateful for having a roof over their heads.

“……”

At this late hour, with hardly any passersby, Isabella stood quietly at the edge of the grassy field, holding an umbrella.

On a day with such heavy rain, an umbrella wasn’t much help.

The wind whipped the rain so fiercely that it soaked not just her lower body, but her upper body as well.

The best choice for her right now would have been to head home and sink into a warm bath.

But Isabella stood rooted to the spot, unable to move.

No, she couldn’t move.

[Resting here under the grace of the goddess]

[Enril of Osria]

[1418.08.31 – 1434.03.15]

It was a modest gravestone. No mound, no foundation—just a simple, pitiful stone slab.

The only trace left to prove the existence of a girl who had no family or friends.

“….”

Isabella knew this. She knew that human lives were never truly equal.

The so-called noble souls often spoke lofty words about how life was invaluable, but reality always assigned a price to life.

And depending on the appraisal, people were treated differently. Even after death.

The loss of life at Anatolia was not a rare occurrence.

It was the inherent risk of the elective task system, modeled after the Hunter Guild’s quests. Just like quests, there was always the possibility of failure.

And failure always carried consequences.

Sometimes, those consequences were so severe that they could ruin a participant’s life.

Of course, this was a school, not a battlefield, so there were minimal safety measures to prevent casualties.

There were guidelines for safely completing tasks, and they rented out teleportation scrolls at a low price for emergencies.

But those measures were only meant to increase survival odds; they didn’t guarantee anyone’s life.

Because—though it was a cruel thing to say—the life of a commoner was always replaceable.

After all, there were countless candidates vying to enter Anatolia Academy.

It was an inevitable aspect of an era still lacking in awareness of human rights.

“Still… getting the name wrong is just too much…”

Isabella muttered sadly as she looked at the engraving on the gravestone.

Of course, she understood why it had to be this way.

Beryl had used unorthodox means to enter the academy—by borrowing someone else’s identity.

As long as the deception wasn’t uncovered, the academy would naturally inscribe the original registered name on the gravestone.

She knew this, but it still left a bitter taste in her mouth.

At least the “ril” in “Enril” matched the latter half of Beryl’s name. Maybe that was the only small comfort she could take.

“Though… I’m not even sure if it’s really Beryl here.”

Strictly speaking, the girl buried here was merely a girl who bore a striking resemblance to the former servant named Beryl.

There was no definitive proof that she was the real Beryl. After all, she had lost her memory.

And now, it was impossible to confirm.

“Princess!!”

A voice calling for Isabella echoed from afar, snapping her out of her thoughts.

Accompanied by the squelching of boots in the mud, a familiar figure emerged through the mist.

Black hair whipped about in the wind and the sound of a sword rattling at the waist followed her movement.

It was Lancia de Granfil, her brother’s fiancée.

“Hah… Hah… Princess, really, how could you come out in this heavy rain without a word? The maids were worried sick.”

“Ahaha, sorry. I just wanted to be alone for a bit.”

Isabella gave an awkward smile as she offered her excuse.

Her faint laughter lingered briefly in the air, before being washed away by the sound of the rain.

Silence returned between them.

After a moment, Isabella slowly broke the stillness.

“…How did you know I was here?”

“I don’t know. I just had a feeling you might be in this place.”

“Heh. Am I that predictable? No one’s ever told me that before.”

Isabella smiled wryly, glancing at Lancia, who was now also staring at the gravestone.

Her gaze was heavy, just like Isabella’s.

“Did you come here because it’s bothering you, too?”

“A little, yes.”

Both of their minds flashed back to the moment when they regained consciousness.

The memory of seeing Beryl’s body, a gaping hole in her chest, for the first time.

Sion had told them that Beryl had sacrificed her life to take down Tarkus.

Despite barely recovering from the poison and not being in the best shape, Beryl had joined them late, throwing herself into the fight to create the opening Sion needed to land the final blow.

“If she hadn’t come, I might have lost to Tarkus,” Sion had admitted candidly, acknowledging her own limitations.

In other words, everyone, including Isabella and Lancia, owed their lives to Beryl.

Without her sacrifice, the outcome could have been the Devouring Legion Commander’s victory, resulting in the annihilation of everyone present.

It was only natural for the two of them to pay their respects to an unsung hero.

“I really wanted to give her a better grave. If only we could reveal what we went through, I would have made sure she was treated better. She deserves more than this.”

Isabella spoke while gently brushing her hand over the rain-soaked gravestone.

“Still… do you think I was too reckless?

If I hadn’t dragged her into this with all my pointless talk, if I hadn’t coaxed her into taking on the elective task with me, maybe this wouldn’t have ended so tragically…”

“……”

Her voice, heavy with regret, was filled with sorrow.

Lancia, after watching Isabella for a moment, quietly spoke up.

“Um, Your Highness… This wasn’t your fault. You don’t need to blame yourself—”

“I know that,” Isabella interrupted, cutting off Lancia’s attempt at comfort.

She wasn’t an idiot.

She understood well enough that this tragedy had been a matter of unfortunate circumstances.

She knew, strictly speaking, that it wasn’t her fault.

But still…

She couldn’t stop her mind from replaying the alternate paths they could have taken—the roads not traveled.

“…..”

The two of them stood in awkward silence, holding their umbrellas side by side.

After a while, the torrential rain gradually lessened, and eventually, it stopped completely.

The downpour from earlier had vanished as if it were all just a lie.

As the moonlight began to seep through the thick clouds, Isabella looked at the now rain-free gravestone and murmured softly.

“You know… I’ve made a decision.”

“What is it?”

Lancia asked, glancing at Isabella.

Her expression was unusually serious.

It was a rare look for the normally playful Isabella, a face filled with firm resolve.

“I’m going to find this girl’s true name. Not this fake one, but her real name.”

“Her name… you said it was Beryl, didn’t you?”

“Well, that’s the thing… I’m not sure.”

Isabella gave a bitter smile.

“Because she had amnesia, I can’t say for certain that she was really Beryl. We only called her that because she looked so much like her.

But look at this. Since we don’t know her true name, even after death, she has to take on someone else’s identity.

That doesn’t sit right with me. Especially when she’s one of our lifesavers.”

Isabella paused before continuing.

“I’m going to have the attendants conduct a thorough investigation to find out who she really was.

What was her background? What happened to her that caused her to lose her memory? Who was she, truly?

I’m going to find out, no matter what.”

For the girl who had died.

For the hero who couldn’t even reclaim her own name after death.

“And once I find out, I’ll have her real name engraved on this gravestone. Only then will this matter be settled for me.

At least, for my own peace of mind.”

Isabella turned to look at Lancia as she finished speaking.

“What do you think, Lancia?

Is this a meaningful thing to do? Or is it just a selfish way for me to feel better?”

“…..”

Her gaze sought Lancia’s agreement, and beneath it, there was an unspoken plea.

Understanding the sentiment hidden beneath her words, Lancia smiled softly and replied.

“No, I don’t think it’s selfish at all. I think it’s a very meaningful thing to do.

I can’t say for sure that Beryl would be happy in the afterlife, but at the very least, it’s the best way to honor her.”

“Really? You really think so?”

“Absolutely.”

Isabella’s face lit up, as if relieved to finally have found someone who understood her.

She looked around before whispering quietly.

“Oh, but make sure you don’t tell Sion about this, okay? That I’m planning to dig deeper into all this.”

“Huh? Why not?”

Lancia looked puzzled.

Was there any need to keep this a secret? It wasn’t like Isabella was doing something wrong or causing trouble.

At Lancia’s confusion, Isabella chuckled.

“My sister is an extreme pragmatist, despite how she seems. She really hates unnecessary rituals or needlessly elaborate memorials.

If she found out about what I’m planning, she’d probably say something like, ‘Why bother worrying about the dead? You should spend your time studying instead.’

And, well, I’m only human. Hearing something like that would really kill my motivation, so I’m asking you to keep it a secret for now, alright?”

“Um… alright, sure.”

Lancia nodded, though with some hesitation.

So, her mentor had that side to her as well? If Isabella, who had lived with Sion for seven years, was so certain, she couldn’t be wrong.

But in truth, Isabella was mistaken.

If Sion found out the full extent of what was happening, she wouldn’t just lightly scold them—she would probably vehemently oppose it for reasons neither of them knew.

But Isabella didn’t know about that side of things, and so, she casually chose to keep it secret, not wanting to hear harsh words from her beloved sister.

What was a small decision for Isabella would later become a great misfortune for Sion.

“If there’s anything I can do to help, please don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll support you however I can.”

“Really? You’d help?”

“Of course. After all, I also owe Beryl my life.”

Lancia smiled as she said this.

The Granfil family motto was to “return what is received,” whether it be kindness or enmity.

In this case (according to Sion), they were only able to defeat Tarkus thanks to Beryl’s sacrifice, so she was essentially Lancia’s benefactor.

Therefore, helping Isabella was the right thing to do.

“Hehehe, hearing you say that lifts my spirits.

Getting it all off my chest feels refreshing. Most people around me usually just shoot down whatever I say.”

Isabella stretched as she closed her umbrella.

“Well, shall we head back? If we stay any longer, my brother or sister might show up.”

“What?! You should’ve said that earlier!

We need to go right now! We can’t trouble them!”

“Haha! Lancia, your face always changes whenever those two come up.

It makes sense since you’re engaged to my brother, but don’t tell me you’re aiming for my sister too? You greedy girl!”

“Wh-What?! That’s absurd—what are you even talking about?!”

Returning to her usual teasing self, Isabella started playfully poking fun at Lancia, who blushed bright red in embarrassment.

The two of them walked along the moonlit path, exchanging lighthearted banter, as a cool, rain-soaked breeze saw them off.

But little did they know.

The body Sion had shown them was a fake. The real Beryl was still alive somewhere on the continent.

And more than anything, beneath the gravestone where they had just paid their respects, the one buried wasn’t Beryl at all—but the very person who had once ripped off Isabella’s arm.

It was probably the first time in history that an active commander of the Demon King’s army received a visit from humans at their grave.

Of course, no one ever said whether Tarkus appreciated the gesture.