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If you wish to hear the tale of heroes who saved the world, come to their graves.

The meaning behind those words is profound.

Those who stepped forward to save the world all paid a price.

Some lost their arms, some lost their loved ones, and some sacrificed themselves.

Their end always led to death, hence the conclusion of a hero’s tale lies in the graveyard.

“So, stop wasting your thoughts and get to work!”

This was what the nun, the ‘owner’ of the shabby orphanage where I resided, our ‘parent,’ said as she threw down the book that Duell had brought.

Poor Duell, struck on the head, had to continue tilling the field despite shedding blood until he collapsed.

In truth, we in this orphanage never even had the chance to hear tales of heroes.

Each of us, having lost our parents for various reasons, was brought or dragged here…

tormented under the guise of refining our souls.

Older boys and girls, larger than me, had to enter the caves with pickaxes once wielded by fathers.

Some got injured, and for some reason, some sisters never returned.

The commonality was that they were never seen again.

If one’s body was smaller or equal to mine, they could stay at the orphanage.

We plowed the fields, sowed seeds, and carried stones in carts.

During hot weather, we had to catch bugs by the handful, and in the cold, we had to clear snow with shovels.

For us children, the fields were too messy, and the plants did not grow well.

When wilted plants appeared, the head nun would personally resort to hitting as many times as there were wilted plants.

With a face that could be neither identified as male nor female, she would shout loudly and wield the whip, causing fresh wounds.

Blood flowed, pus formed.

If things went wrong, fevers would arise, and weaker ‘friends’ would die.

Duell was bleeding profusely, so surely… he wouldn’t last long.

Moreover, the warm meals that mothers and fathers used to provide despite their poor circumstances disappeared.

Boiled or burnt potatoes became the norm.

I remembered slipping into bed, where my tired mother would lift the covers and embrace me, and avoiding my father’s rough chin.

That memory was now buried under the struggle against the cold brought in by insects and mice.

Thus, we couldn’t even envy the heroes.

Above all, we grew to despise them.

They claimed to have saved the world, yet we had to endure beatings, injuries, and pain every day.

“Can I read this…?”

Just as I managed to throw a mouse by its tail and achieve a small victory from within the blankets…

before the swollen-cheeked girl approached me laboriously and spoke.

“It was left outside. I want to read it.”

Lena. The ‘friend’ one should avoid the most.

She hadn’t been here for long but had already visited the head nun’s office twice and returned.

She even bit the nun’s hand that grabbed her hair, ending up with a slap across her face.

Despite facing such incidents and never being lucky once, Lena had become quite notorious.

Of course, she had drawn everyone’s attention even before that.

The nun, in front of our eyes, destroyed her as an example, like a doll before breaking it.

Neatly tied back golden hair, and eyes even brighter and more dazzling than that.

While everyone else gazed into darkness covered in dirt and dust, she alone radiated light.

Although the nuns and the headmistress didn’t leave Lena alone.

Perhaps losing that light was a blessing in disguise.

After that, the nuns and the headmistress stopped looking for Lena… and Lena also became quiet.

However.

“If you can’t read, I’ll give it to someone else.”

Demanding to read the book in this manner, what could she possibly be thinking?

And why couldn’t she understand that picking up something stained with Duell’s blood might lead to harm?

“…I’ll go.”

Turning his head, he moved a small foot in the darkness.

In the moonlight hanging in the sky, scars were visible.

Also covered in dust.

“Wait!”

He grabbed the back that was about to disappear.

And made room beside him.

“There aren’t many who know how to read. I… will do it.”

If he continued to cause a disturbance like this, it wouldn’t just be Duel who would receive punishment and disappear.

That’s why he placed his hand on the cover of the book.

Just like the day they arrived here, looking at Lena once again with bright eyes.

—

The conqueror Denkara was brought down by the ordinary farmer-turned-holy warrior, Northchild.

The name “Northchild,” an unfamiliar one, remained in the book.

Having demolished numerous castle walls and taken the ears of countless soldiers, only one person… brought them down.

“By receiving the power of God?”

“Shh. It’ll swell and hurt more if you talk.”

Putting his hand into his pocket, he took out a few leaves.

Chewing them slightly, then spitting out the water after mashing them, he spat it out from his mouth.

“Huh?”

“It’ll help reduce the swelling. It’s the method our mother taught us.”

Although his already messy face looked even more distressed, he eventually allowed me to treat his hand.

Looking at the undamaged parts of his face, he still seemed quite young, but despite that, he was hitting so severely.

“It… hurts a bit less now.”

“I’ll remove it before you wake up tomorrow.”

If his wound-treating actions were discovered, he wouldn’t be able to present himself as he was before God, so he hit him again.

Are all nuns this cruel?

“Read more… Northchild, sir.”

Even the hand pulling at my clothes had wounds.

Yet, for some reason, his eyes were fixed on the book.

“…Yes, he said he received the power of God. When Denkara’s soldiers attacked the village, he alone brought down twenty of them.”

When the trident finally broke and an arrow pierced his shoulder, a shining sword fell from the sky.

Northchild, who picked it up, approached even the leader who led them and fought, winning.

As a result of this incident, a farmer became a holy warrior and wielded a sword to save people.

“He died with Denkara… saving the world.”

A hero who stepped forward to save the world.

A farmer empowered by God.

His end was indeed a grave, as the innkeeper had said.

“But did he save many people?”

At the end of the story, there was a drawing.

An ancient map. The land painted in red on it.

The name Denkara, which occupied half the world, was written too prominently.

Ears must have been cut off from people on this side.

However, next to it, the name Northchild was accompanied by all lands painted green.

His words of faith and the blue flag he carried.

The name Denkara had disappeared like that.

“He really saved a lot of people. See here?”

“…Yes.”

Is this what a hero is?

Even if the end of the story ends in death, is the person who protects people truly a hero?

Starting from someone insignificant, ultimately saving the world.

“Do heroes save us?”

Is that why he asked to read?

Because someone wants to save us.

Because we need a hero to rescue us from this dreadful orphanage where there are only terrible people.

“But the ones bothering us are not nuns, right?”

“These people are not nuns. I know a real nun.”

Gathering his hands together and carefully kneeling, Lena opened her mouth.

The shadows created by the moonlight covered the injured part, accentuating her delicate neckline.

Surely so small and young.

This was the first time someone thought she was pretty.

“People who pray like this. They pray for wishes every day… they’re very kind people.”

“Even so… wishes never seem to come true.”

If that were the case, Duel wouldn’t have been hurt like this today.

The older brother and sisters who went to the mine must have disappeared, not returning with broken pickaxes.

“Dad said we have to pray hard. He said if we pray earnestly, our wishes will come true.”

I didn’t believe it.

After meeting a god-like figure and a nun, I thought such things didn’t exist anymore.

Why do I feel hopeful seeing Lena kneeling on my bed, hands clasped together?

“What’s your name?”

“Name? Lian.”

“I’m Lena.”

Why are her eyelashes sparkling as much as her head?

Why did the light that I thought had faded suddenly shine so brightly again?

“Let’s make a wish to the god together.”

“What wish?”

“It has to be a secret. But it’s good to pray together.”

I remember fighting so hard with the mouse just to go to sleep.

Now, unknowingly, I found myself clasping my hands and kneeling too.

“What do we do now?”

“Just make a wish. You have to think of God while doing it.”

“Is that it? Just… reciting prayers?”

“They said what matters is your heart. Come on, let’s pray.”

It feels like I don’t really understand.

Will God listen to our voices through such a messy prayer?

“…Let a hero appear and defeat the bad people here.”

If it’s a secret, then what should I do if everything spills out?

Words flowing out of chapped lips.

But they held a clear hope within.

“Please let tomorrow be a safe day for everyone.”

I tightened my hands unintentionally and prayed, imagining the existence of a god.

If such a kind, strong, and great being exists.

If they have the power to turn a mere farmer into a hero.

Please, I hope they will save us.

“We’ve all prayed…”

Lena fell asleep with closed eyes and clasped hands.

Due to leaning left, a severe wound on her right cheek was visible.

But since the juice went down well – tomorrow should be better.

Now, I looked for an empty bed to lie down, but –

There was none. All spots seemed occupied.

So why did I end up looking for a place to sleep with a book in hand?

“…There’s no other choice.”

With neatly arranged bedding devoid of mice or insects, one could sleep comfortably.

Perhaps if one does even a small good deed, maybe God will… grant wishes.

I carefully wrapped the covered heroic tale among the clothes under the bed and lay down on the hard floor, gazing at the moon.

Hoping for it to come true.

“Everyone gather! There won’t be any meals for latecomers!”

Sleeping on the floor was something I didn’t want to do again.

No matter how poor the bed might be compared to before, a bed was still a bed.

Has Lena already left?

Amidst the rushing ‘friends,’ I realized Lena was among those standing.

Thankfully, there were no additional injuries. That was a relief.

“Look beside you before the class starts!”

Out came the nun headmistress from the opened door.

Something held in her large hand eventually fell to the ground.

“Remember, this is the fate of fools who ask for stupid things, you wretched offspring of demons.”

A bloodless face.

A boy with severe wounds, one without a bandage.

Dewey was lying face down with his eyes open.

“There’s no mercy for you who devoured your parents!”

As expected, it seemed wishes weren’t coming true.