Chapter 152: How to Write a Proper Ending (4)

The word ‘maybe’ is like a byproduct of hope.

Maybe he won’t accept my feelings.
Maybe I’ll never receive another letter from him.
Maybe there’s no hope left in life from now on.

Maybe… the world will end tomorrow.

True intentions can only be seen after removing the mask of pretense. To me, more accustomed to calculation than trust, optimism was barren land, difficult to tread upon.

Tomorrow, the world will end.
At least for one of us.
Or, all of us will

*Knock, knock.*

“Rem, it’s me Parsley.”

So, I have no choice but to make the most of the time that’s left.

“Wait, is it okay if I come in?”

I try to suppress my trembling heart. It’s not strange to want to spend the last day of your life with the one you love, right.

And, who knows. He might need me too. Seeking comfort in the face of the end is an instinct of beasts before it’s one of humans.

So…

“Sorry, Parsley. Today… today I want to be alone.”

Shoot.

“Uh, um, okay…”

When I came to my senses, I was standing awkwardly in front of the stairs. Or rather than standing, I was frozen in place.

It’s because all the plans I had set up suddenly dissolved. I’d like to compare it to a graduate mage student who lost their master’s thesis three days before the deadline.

Especially, even more so, in that I reached a similar conclusion to them.

Alcohol, yes, alcohol was needed.

Fortunately, this is an inn. There should be at least some cheap wine in the kitchen. If I’m lucky, I might find some hidden whiskey too.

Although I’m not familiar with alcohol, if I get friendly with it today…

“Ah.”

“Ah.”

It was the moment I entered the kitchen. I make eye contact with Clara, who was awkwardly taking out a bottle of whiskey.

“This…”

Suddenly, looking over her shoulder, I see other faces as well. Amy, Feya, Rosalia. People who are entangled with Rem as much as I am.

They also looked like people who desperately needed alcohol just as much as I did.

It seems that I wasn’t the only one who got rejected today.

It’s not news, but I’m a person who is socially inept.

I don’t want to put all the blame on Sage. After all, I was the one who chose research over people. I hadn’t even considered the possibility that I might need anyone else other than Rem and Marianne.

Therefore, even during the hero party days, I didn’t make efforts to become friends with the other party members.

The other members, too, showed no interest in me.

Conversations strictly related to work only,
During leisure time, each person had their private time,
No team dinners, prohibition on personal questions, each person faithful only to their role.

Despite traveling together, we were essentially strangers to each other.

With the people of the Rose Rem Mercenary Group, well, there was nothing to say either.

In other words, the conclusion was this.

“”…””

In this heavy silence, I felt absolute helplessness.

We sat around a round table with cheap wine in front of us, but couldn’t even find a thread of conversation.

The fact that we loved the same man, and that we were going to carry out a suicide mission tomorrow, didn’t seem to help much with building any sort of camaraderie.

We simply sipped at our wine in silence. It was so sour that instead of getting drunk, it just made my stomach churn.

“…Now that the opportunity has come, I’ll say just one thing.”

I was just thinking about getting up when Clara, with a reddish face, draws our attention. Clenching her fist, she declared with a solemn expression.

“I’m the first. I allowed all of this, you understand?”

…What first?

“Pfft…!”

While I was still lost in confusion, suddenly Amy bursts into laughter. It was a clear, bright laughter, something I’d never heard from her before.

Following her, Captain Rosalia and Feya also chuckled, trying to hold back their laughter. I don’t know what was going on, but I just followed along and laughed.

“Wh-why are you laughing…!”

“‘First,’ she says. Yeah, I guess we should establish a hierarchy.”

“What, what, is it ridiculous or something?! You think I’m not confident in my position!”

Amy shakes her head.

“It’s not like I’m saying I’d dare steal your position. Just…”

Her eyes sink.

“The fact that I can be by his side at all feels unbelievable.…”

“Until a few days ago, I hadn’t even thought there would be such a future.”

Those words silently approached and touched my heart. Looking at the expressions of others, it seemed they felt the same.

Additionally, I vaguely understood what ‘the first’ meant.

“Well, I feel similarly.”

Feya leans back in her chair with a more relaxed expression. Tilting the wine bottle, she continued.

“When I think about what I’ve done… Actually, even being here is shameless. I should have left long ago.”

“What did you do?”

A voice suddenly interrupted. Everyone’s gaze turned to me, and I realized it was my words.

Excessive attention is unfamiliar. Without realizing it, I lower my gaze and speak as if making an excuse.

“No, just… I was curious. In many ways.”

At the words ‘many ways,’ Feya’s eyes widened. Her hands also tremble slightly. They were clear signs of her psychological defense mechanisms kicking in.

“No, if you don’t want to talk about it, it’s okay. Since it’s a sensitive issue…”

“No, I will tell you.”

But, a shield is meant to push away.

“Huh?”

When I raise my head, a sly smile catches my eye.

“In exchange, Parsley, you’ll also tell me. What happened between you and big bro.”

“Huh?”

“Did you just agree by saying ‘huh’? Then I’ll start my story right away. So, I’m actually like a princess in terms of the empire…”

“No, wait, just a moment…!”

.
.
.

They say joy shared is doubled, and sorrow shared is halved.

It’s a proverb I’ve never believed even once.

Because my tragedies had always been mine alone, something to be erased rather than recalled.

The very idea of telling others had been impossible for me.

Probably, it wasn’t much different for them either.

However, tonight seems to be a magical night.

Whether it’s because of the sourness of the wine that’s almost nauseating,
Or because of the dimly flickering crimson magic lamp,
Or because the spirit of a talkative drunkard had possessed the table,
Or because of the possibility that we might all die tomorrow,

Or maybe, because, in truth, we’ve always wanted to share our stories all along.

We began to talk.

“So, isn’t that asking me to take responsibility for him? How could I have resisted that?”

“Surprisingly, Rem says those kinds of embarrassing things pretty often.”

“He’s a natural-born womanizer. Even back at the Church, those shameless hussies were always after him…”

Surprisingly, the self-pity that usually tags along with misfortune was nowhere to be seen. Gloominess also, as if it hadn’t received an invitation today, didn’t show its face.

Of course, moments of sadness were inevitable. Especially when confessing one’s own wrongs.

“Like that, because of my foolishness, Ivan gouged out his eyes right before my very eyes. When I came to, I was in my room. I wanted to believe it was a dream.”

A sting of bitterness seeps from Clara’s downcast eyes.

But that was only for a moment.

“Well, in return, Ivan is still on the cathedral roof now. Ah, this is confidential, so you shouldn’t tell anyone, okay?”

Tragedy delivered as calmly as possible, with the ending wrapped up in a jest.

It’s a way of distancing oneself from sadness.
A way of not being consumed by regret anymore.

A way of moving forward.

Like that, the magical night continues. As if organizing the regrets that still remain. As if calmly burying them.

“Well, is that the end of everyone’s stories?”

It was almost dawn when Rosalia said that. It’s an early time, considering we’ve unpacked five people’s tragedies.

And as proof of that, most of them only had flushed faces but otherwise looking fine.

…Of course, except for me.

“Ugh…”

It seemed my first encounter with alcohol had left some unpleasant aftereffects. It was a moment when I missed Marianne’s presence.

“And to think we all fell for such a terrible man.”

I lifted my head to see Rosalia’s self-deprecating smile.

“Not just one woman, but five. And each one of them so extraordinary. If my mother saw this, she would cry.”

“You’re one to talk. Weren’t you the Emperor in that other world.”

“Well, I’m more envious of the fact that you were childhood friends rather than of any emperor nonsense.”

“…Just, I was simply the only person he could rely on.”

“That’s what makes it more enviable. They say men never forget their first love.”

“Th-that’s…!”

Amy’s face turned bright red in a flash. It was a reaction I’d never seen before, a reaction I hadn’t even imagined.

Perhaps her embarrassment had finally crossed the limit, Amy hurriedly changed the subject.

“I, I actually envy Clara more. You had Rem, didn’t you. O-of course, not in *that* way.”

“It *would* have been in that way. At least if I had been with him for three more years, it would have happened. I was quite precocious., you see.”

At Clara’s nonchalant words and the implication contained within, Amy’s face turned even redder. Even though I could barely keep myself upright, I couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

“And, honestly, I’m most jealous of Miss Parsley. To have been the only lover, it makes me, who lied about being Rem’s lover, look shabby.”

Suddenly, the arrow of the conversation turns towards me. Flustered, I instinctively turn my head away.

“…It lasted less than a year.”

“Still, the weight that the word ‘lover’ carries is different. Presumably, you experienced what we could only dream of…”

“Above all, right now I can’t do anything for him.”

Only after a cold silence settled, did I realize I had misspoken. Hurriedly, I straighten my back while scratching my head.

“So-sorry. I think I’m a bit drunk. So… yes, sorry.”

But the mood had already been irreversibly spoiled. Amy lowers her head and gives a bitter smile.

“Have we entrusted him with too difficult a choice?”

That was a truth that we all pushed into a corner of our minds. A fitting analogy would be a moldy corner hidden away in a closet.

What we have to do tomorrow.

Saving the world,
And taking away ten thousand, no, in the long term, hundreds of thousands of lives.

Hundreds of thousands, it’s such a large number that it’s overwhelming to even imagine. And that overwhelming feeling is translated directly into fear.

That we would be cutting off the lives of those many people with our own hands.

I suddenly felt trembling and looked down, it was my hand. My bloodless hand was trembling as if it were sick.

It felt unbearably pathetic.

…Even I, who had opposed this until the very end, feel like this, then how must Rem be feeling right now.

Rather than letting him be crushed by that pressure…

“What if, without Rem knowing, we…”

“They say people who like each other start to resemble one another, and here you are spewing crazy nonsense.”

Startled, I glanced toward the inn’s entrance. There was Shafiq, brushing off fallen leaves as he stepped inside, followed by Marianne with a sullen look on her face.

“Mr. Shafiq, don’t be so harsh with Parsley. She’s… just a bit naive, that’s all.”

“From what I see, she just seems influenced by our Vice-Captain.”

“How naive must she be to have been influenced by someone like Rem?”

Calmly, Shafiq puts down the bottle of alcohol on the table and takes a seat. Marianne does the same.

It was the moment when Feya, who seemed a bit sobered up, raised one eyebrow.

“Pointy ears? What the hell have you been doing that you’re only showing up now?”

“I was busy keeping an eye on our Vice-Captain, making sure he doesn’t rush off alone to fight the Goddess behind our backs.”

In that moment, bewilderment spread across everyone’s faces.

Not because it was an absurd story, but because it seemed like something that could really happen.

“Rem’s always trying to handle everything on his own, to shoulder it all by himself. We were standing guard in case he tried something stupid again this time.”

Marianne grumbles as she snatches the drink from my hand. She downs it in one gulp, then points the glass toward Amy with a grimace.

“So, Miss Amy, don’t waste your time worrying about pointless things.”

“…What?”

“Rem’s the kind of guy who moves according to what he’s decided in the end. Even if we’d made a different choice, if it didn’t sit right with him, he probably would’ve tried to do it alone anyway.”

And then, rolling her eyes, she muttered as if she were utterly fed up.

“It must’ve been the same when he was with you, Miss Amy. Keeping quiet all on his own, and yet being so damn stubborn about it.”

“…That’s true.”

Before I knew it, Amy was lowering her head with a bitter smile.

“He was like that, always…”

“That’s right. So it’s easier to just let that guy take the lead.”

Everyone’s gaze turns to Shafiq. He grins and lifts the wine bottle.

“Then, we only need to follow him with everything we’ve got.”

It’s a funny thing. With that single sentence, the heavy air flew away on the wind in an instant.

Yes, if he’s ultimately going to make his own decision and walk his own path, If he’s going to keep distancing himself from us, and if he’s going to stagger precariously while doing so.

We just need to put him in front and follow.

If he’s about to fall, we’ll support his back,
If he tries to run away, we’ll grab his neck,
If he tries to disappear, we’ll cling to his ankles.

No matter what, even he won’t be able to dash out alone like he has until now. Because we can bear the weight together.

Even if that weight is the responsibility for the deaths of a hundred thousand people.

“Well, enough with the boring talk!”

Marianne claps her hands and smiles brightly.

“So, what were you all talking about anyway? I could hear the noise from outside.”

“Ah, well, Marianne…”

***

And so, the night deepens with stories once again.

And, in that way, ‘my’ bitterness grows.

*This inn has absolutely no soundproofing,* I think to myself as I pour whiskey into a glass. With a bitter smile, I hand him the glass.

“Would you like some?”

“Yep.”

“Your way of speaking has gotten more casual.”

“Because I’m not in front of my son.”

Sharik downs the whiskey in one gulp and lets out a sigh. Then, looking down at the floor where the sounds of the others talking could still be heard, he says.

“They’re good people.”

“People who are too good for me.”

It’s a sincere truth without an inch of falsehood.

People far too good for me, so much so that I feel sorry, and sorry again.

“Then, why not go down and join them?”

“…No.”

That’s why, at times, they’re people I’m afraid to get close to.

I take a swig straight from the bottle and look down at the desk. Naturally, my gaze fell on a magic tool that resembled a red egg.

A switch containing a hundred thousand lives.

“Because I still have things to take care of.”

“…I see.”

I can feel the lingering unease in his voice. After all, Sharik was the one who most strongly opposed this method.

“If you got something you’d like to say, feel free to say it.”

Be it blame or criticism. I added with a bitter smile.

But Sharik didn’t give any answer. Just, after staring at the floor for a long time, he only said, as if muttering.

““I’m just sorry, that’s all.”

“…”

“For passing our burden, our sins, onto you.”

I tried to find the appropriate words to respond, but it seemed as if they didn’t exist, at least not in this world.

So I, too, simply added a monologue.

“…Do you think I’ll one day say the same to the next generation.”

The weight of those words was probably equal to the weight of his entire life. Sharik, after a long silence, finally spoke.

“I’m sorry.”

And then, without another word, he left the room.

Once again, I am left alone.
But there’s no need to sink into loneliness or idle thoughts.

Just as I did before he suddenly visited my room, I sit in front of the desk. I rest my chin and look down at the magic tool again, recalling.

The hundred thousand people who will die by this magic tool.

But a hundred thousand is a number too large to imagine.

All that comes to mind are abstract images, like a grotesquely red forest or finely chopped pork.

So, let me recall something tied to my own experience.

72 beggars.

The beggars who had to die for my sake.

The sole mistake of my life.

Regret finally comes crashing in, and the number ‘hundred thousand’ turns into an unbearable weight. At last, I truly grasp the meaning of what I’m about to do.

That’s why, desperately, I think.
It’s more like an act of prayer, really.

Of another way.
Please, another way.

But my thoughts are scattered by the night air,
Blurred by the waning moonlight,
And finally, dissolves into the watery color seeping into the sky.

Before I knew it, looking at the sharp dawn light that had risen, I thought.

That in the end, I will fall into hell.