Denial, Part 5
Aris blinked, staring blankly at him.
Her eyes had not deceived her. It really was Junon, unmistakable with that signature black hair of his.
Come to think of it, this deserted path was far from the regular thoroughfares—an ideal route for someone who went out of his way to avoid prying eyes. Running into each other here was pure coincidence, yet it was also a place he frequented.
The moment he saw her, Junon scowled deeply, as though he had laid eyes on the foulest sight imaginable, and wheeled around immediately. He looked ready to bolt on the spot.
Aris finally snapped back to her senses. A stroke of luck like this would not come twice—how could she let it slip through her fingers?
"W-Wait!"
Two agonizing trains of thought had been colliding endlessly inside her head, mutually negating each other, and the catalyst was none other than Junon. This was her chance to speak with him.
"Just wait a second! I have something I need to ask you!"
"I have nothing to say to you."
"I'm not trying to attack you like last time! Just a quick conversation, that's all I need!"
Aris barely managed to grab Junon's arm as she pleaded. Yet unlike her desperate demeanor, Junon refused to spare her even a sliver of his gaze. Aris had no choice but to throw down her trump card.
"This is the last time! I won't come looking for you again, and I won't drag you into anything. I won't report your real achievements from this incident to the press, either...!"
"..."
Only then did Junon's head tilt slightly toward her.
Even then, it was just a reluctant slant—he was not looking her squarely in the eye—but at least he no longer seemed poised to tear his arm away and flee as he had moments before.
...It's a valid offer. And she doesn't seem to be lying.
If Aris marched over to the newspaper office right now and claimed the reports were inaccurate, it would cause an enormous headache. It was fortunate that this corner was completely devoid of foot traffic; if people had been around, a scene like this would have drawn unwanted attention.
Judging by how she gripped his arm without letting go, she clearly harbored no hostile intent. In a point-blank situation like this, an actual brawl would put Aris at an overwhelming disadvantage anyway. Besides, she had openly declared her intention was merely to talk, and in the worst-case scenario, he still had the Belshuar Ark at his disposal.
If it was just a conversation, it was not a terrible compromise.
"Talk. Right here. But let go of my arm first."
"If I let go, you might run away."
"I promise not to run until we're done talking. Happy?"
Aris eyed him suspiciously for a beat before slowly releasing her tight grip. She exhaled a long breath of relief and swallowed hard. She agonized over how to frame her words, but terrified that hesitating too long would prompt him to take off again, she blurted out the question immediately.
"What you said back then... what did you mean?"
"No comment."
"What...?"
"Is that the end of your questions?"
He was stonewalling her, but Aris held no leverage here. Junon had zero obligation to answer honestly; Aris was the desperate one. Left with no alternative, Aris squeezed her eyes shut and spoke again.
"I... I thought you were trying to ruin the Tembris Party."
It was the story of a sudden memory that had flooded into her mind one day out of nowhere.
"That's why I tailed you all the way here—to stop you from joining Tembris... and I did what I did to warn you away."
Apparently, that was the extent of her memory. Aris fell silent, indicating she had laid bare everything she knew.
"So. Now that you realize you were in the wrong, you want to beg for my forgiveness?"
"...That's true too. I let my emotions get the better of me, and I'm s—"
"Don't apologize."
Junon cut her off before the words could fully leave her lips. As he severed her apology, his expression hardened until it turned terrifyingly icy.
"Must be nice, wiping your conscience clean with an apology. You leaped to conclusions from a handful of bad memories and ambushed me without a second thought. And just like you said, I'm the one who survived in exchange for Goden's life. Go ahead and resent me. In fact, I'd rather you did."
"..."
"You asked what those words meant back then? Fine. I'll spell it out for you, piece by piece. When Goden died, I ran from that place with everything I had—exactly as you imagined. I'm the coward who abandoned a comrade and fled. Time and time again, I survived only by turning into dead weight for everyone else."
A faint smile slowly crept across his hardened features. It looked so chillingly unnatural that anyone witnessing it would have felt goosebumps prickling across their skin.
"When Senia went missing? I thought it was impossible. How was anyone supposed to find her on Mount Utulum in the middle of torrential downpours and landslides? When Michel was dying of dehydration? I stopped her from drinking the water Erika fetched nearby. Yeah. That was me, too."
By now, that smile had broadened into something genuinely eerie. With that bitter, twisted smirk, Junon looked as if he had snapped under the weight of some consuming madness.
"Professor Jake. Professor Muniherr. Both of them threw their lives on the line to buy time so that I could survive. And before they did, they handed complete command and control over to me. Did you know that?"
Naturally, it was news to her.
Yet Aris swallowed audibly. The revelation that the supreme command of the forces had been thrust upon him—of all people—sent a jolt through her chest. Carrying the Center position alone was a crushing burden, but commanding the entire operation meant handling unit-level forces. It meant leading and directing a contingent at least the size of an expeditionary force.
"Why they dumped that command onto a useless bastard who couldn't do a single damn thing, I have no idea. But every decision I made casually sent dozens, hundreds of people to their graves."
"..."
"Just as you know, I was nothing more than dead weight. But do you have any idea what it felt like to stand there and watch helplessly as people died? Do you have the slightest clue what kind of guilt it is to be utterly powerless—to be reduced to begging others to fight in your place because your own strength is gone?"
Junon's fists clenched until the knuckles turned bloodless white.
"So what am I supposed to say? The things I actually remember are incomparably more horrific and bleak than anything you've got."
Goosebumps erupted across her skin. From her pink hair down to the hands that had clutched his arm, her whole body began to shiver violently.
"P-Please, stop... No more..."
Aris had lost her mind completely just from seeing Erika's abdomen pierced. She could not even begin to imagine the crushing psychological torment he had endured. That was why she felt so terrified of what might leave his mouth next.
I shouldn't have asked. Even if it bothered me, I should have just kept my mouth shut.
Regret flashed frantically across Aris's mind.
"Telling me to stop now of all times...!!"
No. The memories after that would not even be in Aris's head. Knowing this, the sheer absurdity and disgust of the situation welled up inside him, and he let out a harsh, ragged breath in exasperation.
What a fucking joke.
Remembering only the parts they wanted to remember, and blaming one person for every single tragedy. Aris covered her mouth, trembling like an aspen leaf in the wind. Seeing that she would not ask any more questions, Junon drove the final nail into the coffin.
"Don't ever grab me again, and don't pretend you know me from now on. If you do... even I don't know what I'll do."
His chest heaved with fury, his ragged breaths radiating pure hostility. In that state, Junon turned and walked away. With no strength left in her legs, Aris collapsed onto the ground.
"How... how could..."
Perhaps it was coincidence, but the spot where Aris sank down looked like eight black petals spreading wide. Yet... that flower was already a withered lotus.
What a wretched twist of fate.
Unable to join the Tembris Party, and barred from doing so anyway, his future seemed to plunge deeper and deeper into impenetrable darkness. He had definitely stood alongside them, and the death he ultimately met was deeply entangled with their fates. So when he returned to the Kempf-Litton Continent, he made a vow to himself.
He threw away the sweet temptation of reliving what should have been the happiest days of his youth, choosing instead to distance himself from his former comrades to survive and escape their condemnation. After all, they were capable enough to handle most crises on their own. That was his reasoning.
"Then why... Ha, fuck."
He had died by their hands, and back then, he had done everything in his power just to be of help to them. At the very least, he had hoped to let go of everything and simply live his own life. If his former companions remembered the past, he thought he could be content with that alone. They would take care of the catastrophic events, and as long as he swallowed down his own bitter feelings, he could at least stay alive.
Yet, shockingly, they had been completely blind to the major crisis of the Orthoptera swarm invading the Academy. He had harbored doubts before, but encountering Aris today gave him the definitive answer.
In other words, they did not remember everything from before the regression. Worse still, what they did remember were only the moments where he failed, where he became a burden, where he was utterly powerless. The only thing left in his former comrades' minds was resentment toward him.
Was that all? What they had to face was a pitch-black future that had not yet arrived. It meant they could not even prepare for the disasters to come. Then why was he the only one who remembered it all? Why hadn't they been shown the full picture?
Why the hell me? How am I supposed to survive this? If the very people who are supposed to be the final pillar holding up the collapsing Principality know nothing, what am I supposed to do?
If there had been someone capable of answering, he would have screamed those questions right in their face.
"I was worried sick when I heard the Orthoptera invaded. Good to see you're in one piece."
"...Professor?"
"Let's see here. Doesn't look like you took any bad hits physically. Head seems screwed on straight, too."
The one speaking to him was Professor Jake, who had just returned to the Academy. Junon's mind was already in turmoil; had anyone tried to tease him right now, he might have snapped. But Jake did not display a trace of his usual playfulness. He simply rested a hand on Junon's shoulder, sat down beside him, and spoke with calm warmth.
"No casualties, and you seem sound in wind and limb, so why the long face? From what I heard about the defense, you guys held out great and wrapped things up clean."
"...Some things happened."
"Spill it. I've been your professor for two years, you know."
What would change if he spilled it? Even if this man had watched over and taught him for two years—no, far longer than that—he would never believe the truth.
"I'm sorry."
That was all Junon could manage to say. For now, at least. Professor Jake gave a wistful smile, then began a story that was anything but funny.
"You know, Junon. When a professor can't listen to his student's troubles, it means he's pretty damn incompetent."
"Incompetent?"
"Yeah. Even if they aren't your own flesh and blood, watching the disciples you raised with your own hands grow up like your own children—that's what being an educator is all about."
"..."
"I still remember the day I first became a professor. But man, from day one, those brats drained the life out of me─────"
He recalled rushing frantically whenever he saw a student in his class getting beaten up. Scolding a student who overdid it in mock combat and got hurt. Feeling an inexplicable swell of pride whenever a student showed remarkable results, buying them a warm meal out of his own pocket. Looking at students who had fallen asleep with acne and dark circles under their eyes after cramming for days, gently pulling a blanket over their shoulders out of pity.
To recall such moments in such vivid detail proved beyond a doubt that he was an educator through and through. The smile on his face as he recounted each of those memories never once faded. But...
"Yet, none of that means a damn thing if the students can't bring themselves to confide in you."
As he said this, Professor Jake wore a bittersweet smile unlike any he had ever shown before. After a brief pause, his voice dropped lower.
"There was a time when a student kept everything bottled up until the very end... and ended her own life. A teacher who fails to prevent that has essentially lost his own child."
This was unmistakably no idle complaint. It was the raw, lingering self-blame of a professor who had failed to save his student. It was obvious who that professor was. And the student who took her own life had to be the girl from the Alios Hall incident.
Junon had never imagined that behind the cheerful facade of a man who laughed and joked while watching his students grow, there lay such a scar.
Indeed. This was the story of an educator who had ultimately failed to open a student's heart. A tragic tale of a professor who could not protect his student in the end, resulting in suicide—the story of Professor Jake himself.
"I won't ask you to tell me right now. But if things ever become truly unbearable, make sure you ask for help. Or talk to Muniherr if you prefer."
This was what he had been trying to convey all along through these personal stories—his heartfelt resolve as a teacher never to lose another disciple he had watched grow like his own flesh and blood.
The fact that he's bringing this up... did I look like that to him?
He had claimed he was fine on the surface, but to the professor, he must have looked precariously unstable. A student bearing a crushing burden yet unable to open up to anyone. To Professor Jake, it must have looked like a nightmare threatening to repeat itself.
Yet Jake had chosen to open his mouth and confront his past. By sharing the story with someone else, he was forcing himself to reexamine the past where he had fallen short. A past so suffocating and heartbreaking that he would not even want to think about it—yet he met it head-on, wearing that bittersweet smile.
That was why Junon spoke up, making a request completely uncharacteristic of him.
"Professor, could I ask you for a sparring session? It's been a while."
"Huh? Sparring, all of a sudden?"
"I've been learning under Professor Denise, but she's been busy lately, so I don't really know how much I've improved. I was hoping you could test me instead."
"Junon, you..."
Right. He still could not lay bare the truth. However, he could at least drop a hint to Professor Jake that he had no intention of choosing that tragic path.
"Hahaha...! Is that so? Yeah. That's the spirit."
Seeing that subtle assurance, the corners of the middle-aged professor's lips lifted, clearly shaking off the lingering anxiety.
Yeah. I'm not the same person I was back then.
Once again, Professor Jake had provided an answer to his wandering mind. Thanks to the mindset of a true educator who raised students like his own children, Junon was able to steady his resolve. The fact that his past self and his present self were different—it was a simple, crystal-clear answer, and the path he needed to walk.
"Tired as I am, I'd never turn down an instructional spar with you."
"Make sure you test me thoroughly. I'm taking this seriously."
"We'll see about that. You said you've been training with my wife, right? One wrong move and I might actually lose."
"As if you'd ever lose. Just make sure I can actually get out of bed tomorrow."
The past had happened, but all he had to do was prevent it from repeating. He knew full well how grueling that would be. But the future had not yet arrived.
Even if those bastards could not remember the full truth of who he was back then, even if all his initial plans lay in ruins. Even if the Tembris Party he once knew could not resolve those crises directly. Even if he could not belong among them. Even if they cursed and despised him.
It was not over.
He could foresee what was going to happen, and he had the weapons to preempt them. Knowledge from his previous life. New information acquired in this life. A body that was alive and capable of moving. A brain that remembered everything, unlike his former companions. And that power—confirmed to be neither lost nor gone, but simply unawakened and unmastered.
That was more than enough.
Even if conditions had shifted so that he could not expect the Tembris Party to handle predetermined crises, he could simply strike first. No matter how pitch-black the road ahead might be, no one had decreed that not a single firefly would illuminate the dark.
So, he decided to brazenly throw down the gauntlet against that bastard called destiny. To hell with any predetermined future—he would flip the board entirely.
After a convoluted day, morning arrived without fail.
His body ached from yesterday's grueling instructional spar. Yet, that did not mean he resented the morning sun. His cleared mind greeted the morning like an old friend, gears turning rapidly, which led him to drastically overhaul his plans.
Now, it was time to make the first move.
"Sylvia. Could you do me a favor?"
"Huh? What kind of favor?"
"I need you to quietly spread a rumor among the kids."
The starting point of forging a twisted future began right here.