Chapter 39 – Nothing Is Over (2)

“Move, people! Back before sunset! Or should we skip dinner?”

Early morning. Mist hung heavy. A man in black armor, blue hair tousled, stomped through the mud, his boots leaving prints. He moved through the small camp, greeting soldiers, checking attendance. They groaned dramatically, but he just laughed.

“Alesia? What are you doing?”

A figure leaned against a tree, embracing someone.

“What? Why?”

A large, red-haired woman glared, her hair swaying like a lion’s mane.

“Why are you hugging a kid? Couldn’t control yourself again?”

“Luke? Still asleep? I’m comforting Luelde. He had a nightmare. Saintly duties.”

“Just admit you’re indulging yourself. And you call yourself a saint?”

“I didn’t choose this. They forced me. Maybe
your
mind is in the gutter.”

“Ha… Your shamelessness leaves me speechless. Share some, won’t you?”

He turned to the struggling boy.

“Luelde? Sleep well?”

“…Yes, thank you.”

The black-haired boy, Cariel, wriggled free, catching his breath. The man in black armor smiled at his amber eyes.

“She didn’t do anything… untoward? No touching?”

“Untoward?! You insolent wretch!”

“No one asked you.”

Despite the banter, it was playful, like old friends.

The man left. Alesia stood.

“Need a hug? Anytime.”

“Th-thank you.”

“I’m serious. You’ve sampled my happiness pockets, haven’t you?”

“Happiness… pockets?”

Cariel blinked.

“These.”

She crossed her arms, emphasizing her ample bosom.

“They make men happy. Looking, touching. My shoulders ache, but everyone’s happy. Right?”

“……”

Cariel was flustered. Such… forwardness.

“Aren’t saints supposed to be… chaste?”

“Says who?”

“Uh…”

“If I sinned, the heavens would punish me. They haven’t. Know why?”

“I… don’t.”

She grinned.

“My virtues outweigh my sins.”

“……”

“Otherwise, I’d be struck by lightning. Haven’t been. So, I’m doing great. Irrefutable logic. Do you think I’d do this otherwise? I want a husband, not sainthood! Women my age have five kids! And me?”

“……”

“So, how about it? Live with me? You’re my type.”

“Ha… ha ha.”

“I’m serious! Why are you laughing?!”

Flirtation or jest? Cariel was confused. But her relentless positivity was… disarming.

“Eat up! Growing boys need food! Want to be popular with girls? Eat! A prince almost lost his inheritance because he was a picky eater. Heard that one?”

“……”

He’d heard similar taunts before, but from her, it felt… comforting. Intent mattered. Malice mocked; kindness cared.

They finished eating. The camp was packed. A soldier tended to the horses.

“Cute horse. Affectionate.”

“Is he?”

“More of a riding horse than a warhorse. Patient, obedient, well-trained. A noble’s, I presume?”

“……”

Cariel nodded.

“Needs training for cart-pulling. Riding’s fine, but pulling… it’s different.”

“Most people don’t consider that.”

“Those who don’t care about their horses. They’re tools, not companions.”

“……”

Thought-provoking.

“Let’s go! Home before dark!”

“Easy does it, young master!”

“Night scenery’s nice!”

“A night patrol would be lovely!”

“Quiet! Move out!”

Luke, mounted and helmeted, looked every bit the knight, his black horse a perfect match. The wagons followed. The saint donned chainmail, a white robe with a golden cross, arm and leg guards. A warrior, but for her beauty and… abundance.

Cariel played his lute, practicing, entertaining, and…

“Did you see my dream?”

–What dream?–

–Oh, that was you? Something blurry. I told it off.–

“…What was that… thing you were fighting?”

–Something clinging to you.–

“…What?”

–It acted up after you left the capital. I was going to tell you.–

“…Explain.”

–Should I?–

The golden girl giggled. Playful, but…

–Think about what happened after you left.–

“……”

Cariel strummed his lute, thinking. Seizures, strange thoughts, voices…

“Something… clinging to me?”

–Yep.–

“…Not a curse?”

Curses were varied: targeted, contagious.

–Then why only after you left the capital?–

“…Exactly.”

Sleepless nights. Dreams of Luelde, Patina, Elhermina, Seras… chasing him. Eras waiting. Even Alesius, leading an army, a strangely welcome sight, a chance for revenge. But just before the killing blow… doubt. He’d woken up, regretting the unfinished act, yet disgusted by his own bloodlust.

But worst of all…

…Mother. White, then black. Despair. He’d wake up drenched in sweat. She was always the first, the most persistent.

–Do you think someone’s driving you away?–

“…It’s possible, but… no.”

–Then?–

“Calling me… in?”

–Evidence?–

“…A faint… voice… calling for help…”

–Conclusion?–

“…I don’t know yet.”

–Do you think a curse made them hate you?–

“…Is that even possible?”

–Anything’s possible. But it’s inefficient.–

Unless there was a compelling reason.

–How many such curses exist?–

“You don’t know?”

–I do.–

“……”

–But it’s irrelevant.–

Think differently.

–Someone giving them a reason to hate you, when they already have one… isn’t that more likely?–

“…Complicated.”

–So, a convenient curse made them hate you? Your dark emotions are just… hypnotic suggestions?–

“……”

–Don’t delude yourself.–

The Demon King scoffed.

–Still searching for excuses to forgive them? Pitying them, even as they break you?–

“……”

Empathy, even as he crumbled… what strange logic. Rationalizing their behavior, while unable to justify his own.

And yet… just yesterday, he’d slaughtered monsters without hesitation. Afraid of blades, yet calm in the face of true horror. Training? He’d adapted too quickly. Dreams were dreams, but his control, his mind-body connection was… remarkable.

–Let me be clear. That kind of curse is rare. And if it existed, it wouldn’t be a curse. It would be divine punishment.–

“Divine punishment?”

–A god, deliberately twisting your fate.–

–Wake up. The grudge may have played a part, but it’s not the reason they abused you.–

–You were simply… a convenient target.–

Twang!

A lute string snapped.

“I… see.”

–Homesick already? What about your resolve? So young, so sentimental. I wish I could miss something.–

“……”

Their malice… wasn’t some supernatural force…

It was simply… their own…

Wait.

“…You’re not lying?”

–Make a pact. What will you offer?–

“……”

Cariel replaced the broken string. The Demon King lied, but not entirely.

–I see through your limited senses. My knowledge is based on speculation. There’s room for error.–

Her shield of plausible deniability.

“Ha…”

–Stop overthinking. Focus.–

Elbart. Mind-body synchronization.

–One hundred days is a tight deadline.–

“…Or I’ll take another year.”

When he wrote the letter… he was different. But Elhermina had shown him… he wasn’t ready to face them. Not yet.

When he did… he’d settle things. With both of them.