Chapter 8 – Deprived of Human Rights

Knock knock.

The door burst open.

“I’ve come in.”

“…Why did you come in without permission? And why say, ‘I’ll go in’ after you’ve already entered… No, wait, what? ‘I’ve come in’? What’s that about?”

“Because you wouldn’t give me permission to enter, Miss Ellie.”

“So, you knew, and yet you still came in?”

“I came in because I knew.”

“How did you even unlock the door?”

Even though it might seem a bit rude to Miss Ellie, I had no choice but to force my way in. Otherwise, I would never be able to see her face.

“That’s confidential. Anyway, Miss Ellie.”

“…What now?”

“It’s alright.”

I wanted to say, “Kids grow through fighting.” But I held my tongue because I knew Miss Ellie hated being referred to as a child.

“What’s alright… No, forget it. I get it, just leave. I’ll come out when I’ve sorted out my thoughts.”

“It’s already been four days since you said that. The Duke and Lady Julie are worried about you. Even Yurasia has been constantly asking about your well-being. Kerian is leaving the day after tomorrow; wouldn’t it be good to at least say goodbye?”

Four days.

It’s been four days since the sparring match with the Duke and Kerian. Since then, Miss Ellie hadn’t left her room.

The reason?

I’d heard that after the sparring match with Yurasia Espilot, where she displayed a murderous intent, she fell into a deep sense of guilt.

I couldn’t fully understand how much Miss Ellie was struggling, but I could relate to some extent.

After all, I’d been through something similar when I was younger.

Not during a sparring match, but a regular fight.

That’s why I went off track a bit, but I can’t let Miss Ellie do the same.

“Miss Ellie. What happened wasn’t your fault.”

“…What do you mean, what happened? Stop spouting nonsense and get out.”

“It was just something you couldn’t control. Everyone else says it’s fine. All you need to do is regain your energy.”

Miss Ellie stared at me for a moment, then closed the book she had been reading and stood up.

“Even if others say it’s fine, I don’t feel fine.”

Her small hand peeked shyly from her sleeve.

That delicate hand had endured such intense training, and yet, one small mistake had sent her into this deep slump. It was heartbreaking.

I heard from Yurasia that Miss Ellie had restrained herself from delivering the final blow.

Which means she did exhibit control.

And yet, she was still drowning in guilt.

She’s sensitive.

And far too kind-hearted.

It was unexpected, considering her usual behavior.

Could it be that Miss Ellie, the descendant of the hero, Eliaernes Eustetia, wanted to resemble her ancestor?

Did she push herself too hard in her pursuit, only to break down in the end?

If so, what could be done?

How could I help her, as her personal attendant, without wounding her gentle heart and bring back her smile?

Would mentioning muscle loss from taking such a long break get her to move again?

No, that’s not something you say to a girl like Miss Ellie.

Then maybe, if I offered her the real sword she had always wanted… Would that cheer her up, even just a little?

It’s not something you should say to a young lady, but with a sword like that…

Maybe.

“Miss Ellie.”

“Yes?”

“I have something to give you.”

“What is it?”

“A sword.”

“…A sword?”

“Yes. Someone asked me to hold onto it, but they ended up transferring ownership to me. I don’t need it, so I’d like to give it to you. You’ve been saying you wanted a real sword, right?”

The cherry blossoms bloomed in Miss Ellie’s eyes.

“What kind of sword?”

“It’s a two-handed sword, forged with a mithril base and an adamantium blade.”

“That’s… certainly a good sword. Someone just gave it to you for free?”

“…Yes.”

“Huh. That person sounds interesting. Did they die?”

But then, as quickly as those cherry blossoms bloomed, a typhoon seemed to sweep them away, leaving them withered.

“…No thanks. I wouldn’t be able to use it anyway. I don’t need it.”

“I can ask the Duke for permission. And besides, you won the sparring match. You have a good reason.”

Miss Ellie pondered my words for a moment, sighed, and grabbed the ends of her twin-tails.

“No, it’s impossible now, even if I wanted to. That sword… Just sell it and buy whatever you want with the money, Sara.”

Then she made a terrible pun, one the Duke wouldn’t even make, before burrowing into her blankets.

Followed by giggles—laughs that sounded far from normal.

Ah.

Something’s seriously wrong.

Miss Ellie is in a bad place.

That one remark set off a red flag in my mind. My voice died down, and my tongue surrendered.

As her attendant, there was nothing more I could do. Frustrated, I clenched my fists and bowed deeply.

“…Understood. The sword will be yours whenever you ask for it. And Miss Ellie, you are not a criminal. You are the cherished cherry blossom of the Eustetia Ducal family.”

“Whatever.”

Her tiny hand peeked out from under the blanket, her fingers wiggling playfully.

“Anyway, I’ll come out when I’m ready, so don’t worry too much.”

“…I’ll be waiting.”

Feeling utterly helpless, I immediately went to Lady Julie.

***

Sara said it wasn’t my fault.

It’s not like I wanted to be born a chimpanzee.

I just happened to die in place of one, then came back to life as a chimpanzee.

“Haaah…”

I let out a sigh from deep within and crawled out from under the blankets.

I didn’t need a sword anymore. I didn’t need it.

When she mentioned mithril and adamantium, I briefly thought, “Maybe it could withstand my mana?” But it wouldn’t.

Unless it was a holy relic, any ordinary weapon would undoubtedly break. My mana isn’t compatible with anything I can hold in my hands.

I’ve tested it myself.

Late at night, when everyone was asleep, I snuck into the training ground and swung a few weapons. The more I did, the faster the weapons broke.

They couldn’t last more than two minutes—no, not even one minute.

At this rate, I’d be grateful just to hold raw mithril or adamantium ore.

If this continues, I won’t even be able to hold a weapon in my hand soon.

“Let’s just finish reading this.”

Clicking my tongue in frustration, I opened the book I had been reading.

A thick tome, as large as my body. The title is ordinary.

The Hero’s Story.

It’s the novelized version of that wretched fairy tale.

Still, it’s more bearable to read than the fairy tale. Though I have to think about Arisa whenever I come across her character.

“Even now, it pisses me off. Why did all my fame go to Arisa? That chimpanzee wouldn’t have done it on purpose, so who the hell wrote this?”

Grinding my teeth, I skimmed through a part of the book that I had once found amusing.

On the fifth year of their journey, the Hero’s party succeeded in defeating the first Demon Legion Commander, Krahall of Greed.

It was a battle that lasted over two weeks. Yet, the Hero’s party never once complained, carrying out their duties solemnly and with great resolve.

They were majestic and sacred, exuding an air of devotion beyond what the title of ‘Hero’ could encompass.

-“Is it dead?”

-“Aaaah! You crazy woman! Don’t you know that if you say that, it’ll come back to life?!”

-“Really? Well, since Luna is a Saint, she could revive the Commander if he came back to life, right? What if he really revives…?”

-“What crazy nonsense are you spouting now, chimpanzee?”

-“What? I’m wrong? Not even a Saint can revive a dead Demon Commander?”

-“Why am I even talking to you? Anyway, Paulo, is it really dead?”

-“It’s dead.”

-“You sure? That thing’s so greedy, it might come back to life because—”

-“It’s the Chalice of Greed, Ronan. It’s an artifact that contrasts with Luna’s Relic of Diligence. Only demons can use it—”

-“Could you shut up while I’m healing? How are you even talking with a hole in your lung, Kaloso?”

-“Good question. Kaloso, where are you speaking from?”

-“Ah, this is a new spell I created. It transmits sound through air. It’s designed to allow speech even when a lung is pierced—”

-“Healing is slower when you talk. Shut up.”

-“Anyway, that thing, the Chalice of Greed. It kept reviving him while he acted like he was hoarding lives.”

-“True. But this time, he’s really dead.”

-“How do you know?”

-“Humble told me.”

-“If the relic said so, then I guess he’s dead. Okay, let’s clean up and get drunk. Since we’re here, I’d love to drink on top of his corpse.”

-“Not yet. It’s not time to drink.”

-“Why? You said he’s dead.”

-“I’m about to pass out, so I can’t drink.”

-“What does you passing out have to do with us drinking? And why are you passing out?”

-“Krahall’s final strike crushed my liver. I’m already starting to lose consciousness.”

-“Ugh, well, you can’t drink without a liver. Just pass out already. It’s a bit disappointing, but we’ll be fine without you. Hey! Luna! Paulo can’t drink because his liver’s gone. Get Kaloso over here. Let’s drink that wine the Emperor gave us. It’s so small it’d barely be enough for anyone, but it’s perfect for today.”

-“Kaloso just passed out too. He’s completely drained of mana. Looks like it’ll just be me, Arisa, and Ronan drinking. What a shame.”

-“I’m still conscious, Luna. But I feel like I’m going to pass out soon, so please remove your hand from my throat.”

-“Oh my? Even while being strangled, you can still talk? Magic really is troublesome, isn’t it? Take that.”

-“Magic… isn’t… a bother… it’s… a great… thing… but… I… will… die… dieeeee…”

-“Aaaah! Luna! Kaloso’s foaming at the mouth!”

At that time, Kaloso passed out completely.

Paulo, whose liver had been crushed, spent the next three days in agony, groaning.

And while he was laid up, we drank his share of the expensive wine.

Kaloso? Luna strangled him again until he passed out. That bastard. If I’d known he’d betray us later, I should have killed him then.

And yet, they call this the image of “noble devotees”?

If the world ever found out what we were really like, that’d be a sight to see.

Chuckling at the thought of spreading these stories someday, I flipped through the parts about the second, third, and fourth Legion Commanders.

Skipping over the parts where I died, I finally reached the last page of the novel.

After enduring countless sacrifices and deaths, even the loss of their precious companion, the warrior Ronan, the Hero’s party finally succeeded in sealing the Demon King.

Returning to the Empire, the Hero’s party never forgot the sacrifice of Ronan Lujarak, the warrior. They carried the weight of his loss and honored his memory.

To this day, across the Empire, the day of Ronan’s death is commemorated with a grand festival, celebrating the life of the warrior who gave everything.

“Bullshit.”

Success? How is sealing the Demon King, instead of killing him, a success?

And they honored me? If they truly honored me, they would have dropped that ridiculous “warrior” title from my name.

“And on the day I supposedly died, why the hell are you throwing a festival?”

That festival. The wretched festival. I’ve never once attended it because I’m afraid I’ll flip the whole thing upside down if I do.

What do they mean by “fulfilled their wishes”? Did they go into hiding and become farmers?

The same people who loved to flaunt themselves?

“This is just utter nonsense.”

The person who wrote this garbage must have taken an arrow to the head.

If not, I’ll be happy to put one there myself.

“Ha.”

Reading the final passage always makes me furious, yet I keep coming back to it like an idiot.

“Am I becoming more like the chimpanzee in my foolishness too?”

Muttering curses, I finally slammed the book shut.

The Hero’s Story.

The book that ends in a happy ending, which I’ve read dozens of times, caught my eye.

I flipped back to the cover.

And I read the first line of the novel once again.

Paulo Prandis and Ronan Lujarak, who would one day become heroes, were born in the same hometown and embarked on their adventure together with the same goal.

They were irreplaceable friends, teachers, and pillars of support to each other.

That bond, they were certain, would last until the end of their long journey.

“We didn’t grow up in the same hometown; we met in an orphanage. And we didn’t set out on an adventure; we teamed up to rob rich neighborhoods because we both had sticky fingers.”

Still.

We did share the same goal.

Even now, I have the same goal as back then.

“To kill the Demon King.”

To kill the Demon King and then rob the Emperor’s treasury and vault.

“Haa…”

I finally closed the book for good.

I stood up and looked at myself in the mirror.

My pink twin-tails, the symbol of spring, were all disheveled. After not washing for four days, I looked haggard, and my body felt softer from the lack of exercise.

But in my eyes, cherry blossoms were in full bloom.

Four days.

It may not seem like much time, but for someone like me, who lives every day meticulously, it felt like a long period.

It was enough time to sort out my thoughts and fully acknowledge the talent I possessed.

I have talent.

An exceptional, terrifying level of talent.

As long as I let go of weapons.

If I close my eyes and give up weapons, I’m certain I’ll become far stronger than I ever was in my previous life.

At first, I denied it, raged, and wallowed in despair.

But not anymore.

“I’m not a chimpanzee.”

I’m good at fighting, reasonably smart, decent at cooking, and I could wield a weapon if I wanted to.

I could make a living swinging a blade if I needed to.

But even if I didn’t.

As a direct descendant of the Ducal family, I could live a comfortable life. There are no siblings either.

But that wouldn’t be enough to kill the Demon King. I wouldn’t even be able to kill a Legion Commander.

What could I accomplish with less than twenty percent of my former strength?

Even if I regained my peak abilities, I wouldn’t be able to kill the Demon King.

I need to become stronger.

Stronger than in my past life, stronger than Ronan Lujarak ever was.

And I already know the way.

So, there’s no time to waste.

Chimpanzee or not, I must sharpen the talent I’ve been given.

Sure, my limbs are shorter, I’m smaller, and my strength is weaker than other chimpanzees.

“But that was the case in my previous life too.”

I wasn’t as strong a fighter as Paulo.

I didn’t have as much mana as Kaloso.

I didn’t possess Luna’s divine power.

I wasn’t as skilled in mana manipulation as Arisa.

And yet, I stood by their side.

At their side, behind them, and in front of them.

I killed more demons than anyone.

I personally took the heads of two Legion Commanders.

And now, I’ve been given talent.

An overwhelming talent that can’t be diminished by minor shortcomings like that.

So.

Starting today, my fists are hammers.

My feet are spears, and my hands are blades and axes.

Not a chimpanzee.

A Weapon Master, that cringe-worthy title.

“And anyone who calls me a chimpanzee, I’ll crush their heads with my hammer.”

There’s probably no one who would dare call the Duke’s daughter a chimpanzee to her face, though.

Chuckling, I headed straight for the bathhouse but stopped in my tracks.

If I’m going to wash up anyway, it’d be better to sweat first.

Should I do that?

I quickly changed my clothes, let down my twin-tails, which were now even more disheveled, gathered my hair into a rough bundle, and pulled on a cap.

Then, with a much lighter step, I headed to the annex training ground.

“Yurasia! Let’s spar!”

Upon seeing me for the first time in four days, Yurasia burst into tears.

During the sparring match, she called me a chimpanzee again, so I hit her hard with my trusty hammer.

This time, she cried even more, whimpering “Hiiing…”

***

The next morning.

Amid the concern and attention of everyone, Ellie entered the dining hall.

She tore into her usual large portion of beef and, as if she were heading out on a casual trip, made an announcement.

“Oh, by the way. I’m going to the Demon Realm when I turn of age.”

No one could understand what sudden change of heart had occurred. Turrius dropped half-chewed lettuce from his mouth in shock.

Kerian spat out his wine.

But Julie?

As if she had expected this from Ellie all along, she simply smiled her usual radiant smile.