The Former Hero Who Hanged Himself
The old necromancer fell silent for a long while after hearing what I had to say.
Then he let out a deep sigh.
"...Heh. Are you serious, lad?"
Still, judging by his tone, he didn't seem inclined to turn the job down. He was simply flustered — curious about what I was really after.
Instead of answering, I set the materials I'd brought out on the table.
A vial of blood. Hair. Teeth and fingernails. And skin cells.
All of it harvested from my own body.
"How long will it take?"
"...Sit tight a moment."
With that, he set to work as though he'd made up his mind. He disappeared into the back of the room, hauled out a corpse a little larger than my build, and began carving it down with alchemy.
Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.
The sound of flesh being pared away went on for quite some time before he spoke again.
"Once this is finished, are you planning to silence me?"
The old man asked in a dry, flat voice.
Even living down here, he would have heard the news from outside. He'd know that the Hero had become a traitor who'd sold out humanity. He'd roughly figured out what I meant to do with that corpse, and that was why he was asking. You couldn't have witnesses when you were washing an identity clean.
"Well. Who knows?"
He gave no answer to my question. I tossed my sword onto the floor and went on.
"I'm kidding. I don't know what those ears of yours have picked up, but I'm not that much of a piece of trash."
"Ho. Is that so?"
"Besides, you weren't planning on blabbing about this anywhere, were you?"
A merchant's lifeline wasn't money or fame. It was trust. He'd kept his clients' secrets, and that was how he'd stayed in business this long.
He manipulated my skin cells with alchemy and affixed them to the corpse. Instantly, the entire surface of its skin shimmered.
"Anyway, once you're gone, I'll need to pack this place up too."
"What, closing shop?"
"Have to. How am I supposed to live easy in a country that turns even the Hero into a criminal?"
"Hmm. Old man. That sounds a little strange coming from you."
A country that made even the Hero a criminal.
"You're talking like I didn't do anything wrong."
"...Whether you were framed or not, what's a vagrant like me supposed to know? What matters is that this country no longer has you in it."
"Is that what matters?"
"Aye. It matters plenty. What remains where glory dies? At best, a rotting corpse. And a few circling crows."
He smirked as he continued.
"I want to live out my natural lifespan, you see."
"That's greed talking, old man."
I answered half in disbelief. Wanting to live out a full natural life in an age like this. Demons killed people. Beasts killed people. People killed people. And even the Hero got framed on a false charge and branded a high traitor. Just making it to tomorrow was reason enough to thank the Goddess.
The old man seemed to know it well enough himself, and let out a hearty laugh.
"Heh heh heh. Aye, I suppose so. My dreams weren't always so grand. Used to be, just scrounging through one more day was enough for me. But then..."
"But then?"
"Then a fellow named Hero Kyle came along, didn't he? So of course the greed set in."
"Heh. You've got a good eye, old man."
"That's the secret to a long life."
As he said it, the old man glanced at me from the corner of his eye. But his hands never stopped. He poured the blood from the vial into the corpse's openings and began planting the alchemically copied hair and teeth one by one.
"So I've got to leave right away, haven't I? Clean this place out, take down the shop sign. Looks like you'll be my last customer."
"The Hero as your last customer. Hmm — an honor?"
"Heh. Not that I can brag about it anywhere."
Finally, he fitted my fingernails into the corpse's rotting hands. This time the hands and feet flashed. Then he let out a weary sigh — that must have been the finishing touch.
"Wait a moment. I'll wrap it up for you."
He bundled the corpse tightly in black cloth as he spoke. I slung it over my back and handed him three times the commission fee.
"I've always been a generous tipper."
"Ha ha. That you are."
The old man pocketed the money with a pleased laugh. Well — call it a silence fee, more or less.
As I was about to leave, he suddenly took off his hat and bowed his head with quiet dignity.
"You've worked hard, young man."
For a moment, I had nothing to say.
He wasn't a companion who'd shared life and death with me for five years. He wasn't one of the citizens who'd praised me, nor the Emperor who'd appointed me Hero. And yet — of all people, this old man I'd met for the first time today was the only one who offered me any comfort.
I answered with a bitter smile and left the shop.
I climbed the stairs, passed through the tunnels, and emerged from the underground waterway into the dawn wind.
"Cool."
And liberating.
It was dawn, but the streets were still dark, and not a soul was in sight. Just me. I alone existed on this street right now.
"Well then. Let's go."
I walked the empty streets.
On the way, I passed the house where I used to live. Not the dilapidated ruin I currently occupied in the slums — the mansion that had once been mine. Once a popular tourist attraction billed as the Hero's residence, it was no longer fit for human habitation.
Every window was shattered. The door had been smashed in. Inside, rocks and garbage littered the floors, and the walls were covered in graffiti cursing my name. Anything valuable had been stolen; anything worthless had been destroyed.
All thanks to the Emperor and my companions.
"Thanks to them, there's nothing left to go back for."
I passed many other places after that. From the plaza where they'd raised my statue, to the museum built to honor my achievements. But none of them looked the way they once had. The statue lay in pieces. A notice board on the museum announced its scheduled demolition.
No one wanted to remember me anymore.
"Then I should help them forget."
I grinned at the corpse slung over my back.
From now on, no one would remember me. No one would come looking for me. Because Hero Kyle would sleep here, today.
The moment I returned to my house in the slums, I unwrapped the cloth. There lay a corpse that looked exactly like me, and I couldn't help but marvel.
"Damn. Spot on."
It wasn't just the surface that matched. My blood ran through it. The hair, the teeth, the fingernails — all mine. Alchemy, unlike magic, required time and materials — but it was precise in equal measure. You could autopsy this thing with magic a hundred times and never realize it was a fake.
I set the corpse up somewhere visible and dusted off my hands.
"Alright. Time to get going."
Daybreak wasn't far off. I needed to leave before then. I shouldered the bag I'd prepared in advance and double-checked my escape route. When every preparation was done, I finally opened the door.
Before stepping out, I looked back one last time at my own corpse.
"......"
By tomorrow, the world would be in an uproar. But no one would grieve my death. No — I hoped they wouldn't.
"I'll forget all of you, too."
So remember just this one thing. That Hero Kyle dies here, today.
"Forever, if you please."
I slowly closed the door.
Creeeak. Thud.
All that remained in that house was the corpse of Hero Kyle.
That, and nothing else.
Early morning. The sun had only just begun to rise.
While her companions still slept, Jain was busily preparing food. She'd woken earlier than usual, yet showed no sign of fatigue. If anything, she was wrapping a lunchbox with a face full of excitement.
"Hmm-hmm, hmm-hmm-hmm."
She looked so cheerful she was humming under her breath even as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. There was only one reason. Today was the day she'd been waiting for — her turn to look after Kyle.
The so-called Kyle Duty. That was what the girls already called it among themselves.
"Ehehe. Kyle's going to love this, right?"
She smiled with satisfaction at the finished lunchbox. Meat and mushrooms. Bread and soup, too. She'd even drawn a heart with slime jelly. Alice had mentioned yesterday that he'd been eating nothing but herbs lately, so she'd put extra care into it. Seeing this lunchbox, Kyle would surely be delighted.
"Hehe. It'd be a problem if he fell for this and suddenly jumped me. Well, if it's Kyle, I wouldn't exactly mind granting special permission..."
Saying so, Jain peeked at her own undergarments. She belatedly realized the top and bottom didn't match, and hurriedly changed.
After that came makeup, choosing an outfit, decorating the lunchbox — and before she knew it, the sun was halfway over the horizon.
"Ah! It's already this late. I need to hurry and get ready!"
She wanted even one more second alone with Kyle. She rushed out of the inn before any of her other companions woke up.
"Heart on the lunchbox, check. Makeup looking good, check. Matching black underwear, check. Mm-hmm. Absolute perfection!"
Even on the way there, Jain couldn't stop her fluttering fantasies. Before long she arrived at Kyle's house, and with a face full of anticipation, she knocked on the door.
Knock knock.
...
......
"Huh?"
No response came. She knocked again.
Knock knock.
Still, the door didn't open. Strange. She could definitely sense a presence inside. Was he still asleep?
"Honestly. Kyle just can't manage without me. Hehe."
She laughed as if she had no choice. And then, as she opened the door—
"Good morning! Kyle. What time do you think it is, still sleeping—"
But the rest of the words never came.
"...Huh?"
Thud.
The lunchbox she'd been holding hit the floor. The carefully packed food spilled everywhere, but none of that mattered. Jain could only pray that the reality before her eyes was a nightmare.
"A... aa... aaaaaaaa—"
Her hollow scream echoed into the empty air.
Creak. Creeeak—
Right in front of her, Kyle's corpse swayed, hanging by a rope around its neck.