Ch.4816. Who Are You, Mister? (2)

“I….”

…I couldn’t answer.

As if my throat was blocked.

What should I say?

A boy with light brown hair, the kind you could see anywhere.

Unable to directly face those two eyes that shimmered like gold, I lowered my gaze.

I could see he was holding several small bunches of white flowers in both hands.

Common wildflowers.

Nothing distinctive or special about them.

It was a brief moment, but relief and self-reproach washed over me all at once.

‘This child….’

I almost failed to recognize him.

It’s been a while, you’ve grown so much—

Even that much, I couldn’t bring myself to say.

‘I….’

Wasn’t it for preventing such tragedies that I took up the sword?

Above all, I wished that no child would lose their parents as I had.

I wanted no weak person to be bullied by those with power.

I prayed for the wronged to find justice.

For the courageous to receive the proper rewards for their efforts and passion.

For such a just and fair world to come.

…But what is reality?

The strong oppress and exploit the weak.

The wicked deceive and use the good to gain unfair advantages.

Even the weak ostracize and discriminate against those weaker than themselves.

Good intentions are repaid with evil deeds, and those who live righteously are criticized as foolish and incompetent.

[You may try to change the world with youthful vigor, but it’s a futile struggle.]

Suddenly, my master’s old words came to mind.

What had I said in response back then?

But.

[If no one else will do it, shouldn’t I at least try?]

Yes.

That was my only thought.

Was the world any kinder back then?

Were there fewer evil people back then?

[I simply wanted to become someone admirable.]

Someone admirable.

When I first saw him, he proudly identified himself as a knight.

But by the end, he couldn’t even call himself an admirable knight anymore.

Had he become discouraged?

Or perhaps despairing?

Or had he resigned himself?

…Or maybe he had given up.

And so.

Because I couldn’t bear to see him like that.

Because I wanted him to find strength.

I wanted to offer words of comfort:

It’s okay, you’ve done more than enough.

But.

I didn’t have the eloquence or tact back then.

So.

I told him that was enough.

That’s what I said.

Though his face was hidden behind his helmet.

He expressed bewilderment at my words.

[That’s enough? Why?]

Unfortunately.

What I said next…

I can’t remember at all.

…Still.

What I need to do now…

I realized with perfect clarity.

As a boy, I was overwhelmed just trying to follow in his footsteps.

It was the only way to escape the pain.

In those moments when I ran toward my goal without thinking…

I could somehow escape from this unbearable, yearning heart.

From this aching heart.

That’s why I kept my distance from her too.

How could someone as unfortunate as me make anyone happy, or dare to shoulder anyone’s burden?

You told me to look only forward, Father. Mother.

But.

…That’s simply not possible, is it?

“Is this stone mound the grave of your father and mother?”

Barely suppressing my trembling voice.

I asked calmly, quietly.

“Yes.”

“How did they pass away?”

“…Father died protecting the village. Mother… while trying to protect me…”

Whatever weapons they might have wielded would have been no better than farm tools.

In their youth, they might have climbed mountains and pretended to be hunters, but by then, hunting would have meant setting traps at most.

And she…

“I heard it was soldiers. They took everything from the village—food, farming tools, all kinds of supplies.”

“……”

I had guessed as much from the traces.

It was too thorough to be simple plundering; they had completely razed the entire village.

Most survivors were either elderly or children.

Any young people who survived would have been taken as slaves or prisoners without exception.

With no ransom to be expected, their fate was obvious.

Leaving behind the elderly and children was meant to burden enemy territory with troublemakers.

Just as wounded soldiers slow down a unit in battle and disrupt troop deployment.

For a long time, I had circled around various battlefields, large and small.

I participated in proxy battles and fought dozens of duels.

Somehow, I survived.

Past efforts were not meaningless.

But, as my master said, that was limited to advancement.

I thought that by climbing higher, I could change the world.

But to do so required sacrificing the present.

Kicking down comrades, sending subordinates to their deaths.

Establishing achievements and accomplishments.

…Only then would the path become visible.

Disliking that, I often took the lead myself.

I survived only because my skills allowed it.

“What do you plan to do now?”

“I have to live.”

An obvious answer.

Yet, that obvious statement feels incredibly heavy.

“Just because the crops failed doesn’t mean we can stop farming, right?”

“That’s… true.”

It’s obvious.

That common sense they take for granted.

Why am I receiving it so grimly?

Is there any meaning to it?

The dead don’t return.

What I failed to protect won’t return either.

Only what was lost remains.

That emptiness.

There’s simply no way to fill it.

“Father used to say that giving up is also arrogant and prideful. That we only do it because we can still get by.”

“…What?”

“He said it’s natural for things to not always work out. Success and failure always go together. So we always pray for success, but if it doesn’t happen, that’s just how it is.”

“……”

I see.

Is this how my master felt about me?

I feel both regret and gratitude.

Nevertheless, the child survived.

I thought I had lost everything.

But there was still something left.

“Your name is Ruel, right?”

“Oh, you know me?”

“How could I not? I vividly remember building this log cabin with your family when you were little… running through the mountains and this area with your father and mother.”

“Oh, then are you the knight, sir?”

Knight.

I had forgotten.

The knight my master spoke of doesn’t exist in this world.

Therefore, “knight” was merely a word my master invented.

“Father and Mother told me. Your name is Kariel, right? They said you would become a great knight. So I asked them, what is a knight? And they said…”

“One who overcomes the impossible.”

I began, as if entranced.

Then.

“One who can die for noble ideals.”

The child continued.

And so we took turns.

“One who endures even unbearable pain.”

“One who knows how to reflect on and correct their mistakes.”

“One who loves justice and goodness more than anyone.”

“One who resolutely defeats evil enemies.”

“One who has the courage to run to the ends of the earth with dreams, love, hope, and faith.”

Truly.

It sounds like a dream.

Though his face was hidden behind his helmet.

Even now, the confident voice of my master as he recited those words back then…

Rings so clearly.

So vividly in my ears, in my mind.

“Then Ruel. Do you know what we must do now?”

“We need to rebuild the village. Before that, people need time to heal their sorrows. But more importantly, what we’ll eat tomorrow, where we’ll sleep. That’s what matters.”

The child methodically listed what needed to be done.

The rain is still faint.

But in this place without a ceiling or roof, even this could become an adversity and trial.

“Yes. You’re right.”

The man, Kariel, nodded.

“Then, let’s do what we must.”

Only then could the child place his flower bunches on the two graves.

Watching that tiny figure sitting quietly in prayer.

The man made a promise, and promised again.

Because it was the only vow he could make before the two graves.

====

Time passed quickly.

Rebuilding the village and somehow managing with the shortage of hands.

Kariel provided one of his two swords to be made into farming tools.

Using his youthful skills to cut and carry wood.

Building houses, however clumsily.

Fortunately, some of the elderly had considerable expertise in this area.

It was quite lucky that they could build sturdy plank houses rather than simple log cabins, by cutting and processing the wood.

Driving away bandit groups who poked their heads in after just a few days, thinking there might be something to steal.

Some vagrants cautiously joined them.

Apart from desperately searching the forest for bark to eat, relying on the forest’s grace, they truly endured terribly from what he remembered.

Fewer mouths to feed meant fewer hands to work, but everyone persevered tenaciously.

By the time they could catch their breath and complain, a whole year had passed.

When people came to collect taxes, they tried to enforce it despite seeing the state of the territory.

But Kariel firmly blocked them.

Perhaps reputation wasn’t entirely meaningless, as they withdrew without much protest.

However, the next time they came, they would be prepared.

So Kariel went to find his former lord.

As he was the lord of this area.

But he refused to meet Kariel.

Instead, he only received a unilateral notification that, considering the village’s terrible state, taxes would be exempted for five years.

…Kariel thought that was something, at least.

He had hoped for some support, however minimal, but when he returned to the village with this news, everyone was so happy.

…Again feeling ashamed, Kariel didn’t reveal these inner thoughts.

As the village stabilized somewhat, those targeting it began to increase.

Some attempted outright robbery.

Others infiltrated pretending to be vagrants, and those hoping to join the village while hiding their identities gradually increased.

Kariel resolved all of this, preventing major damage from spreading.

Once, his master had told him to combine courage with wisdom.

And he was faithful to that demand.

Time passed again.

That year’s harvest was relatively bountiful.

Though small in scale due to limited manpower, it was enough for us to be satisfied.

Just looking at the golden fields made us feel full.

The child grew into a boy.

The village became large enough to form a makeshift self-defense force.

Even if it was fewer than ten people, that was something.

Only then did traveling merchants begin to visit.

Though the village wasn’t their destination but a stopover, we were able to exchange stored leather for some farming tools and implements.

The merchant expressed his intention to return more abundantly next time.

More time passed.

With a little more leeway, he wondered if he should have gone to other territories to recover the children’s parents.

Such regrets flooded in once they gained some breathing room.

But when those parents miraculously escaped and returned to the village on their own, the entire village became a sea of tears.

The child, Ruel, was genuinely happy seeing that sight.

But that day, he went to the barely formed stone graves and, in darkness where even the moon held its breath, finally wept with muffled sobs.

After several more years.

About six years after making that silent vow before the grave.

The man who had dreamed of becoming a knight had become an ordinary villager.

And then.

When a wandering priest suggested building a small church.

While staying briefly to survey the church grounds.

He suddenly died.

…And a plague began to spread.

The epidemic engulfed the village without warning, in an instant.

Even the priest’s death somehow spread to nearby villages.

Their village was suddenly called a land cursed by the devil.

Those who heard this news from somewhere. None of them extended a helping hand.

Even those who should have been most compassionate.

The Lord’s, Heaven’s agents.