Chapter 8
"We're heading out now!"
"See you later, sis!!"
...Ah.
It only hit me after the kids had run off waving their hands...
"I forgot to tell them I'm not their sis..."
...But they clearly saw me as a woman, so it saved me the hassle of convincing them otherwise.
Maybe I should think of it that way.
The kids' laughter lingered in the air longer than expected as they dashed back toward the village. The patter of small footsteps. Voices calling to each other. That clumsy chant of "Justice Knights!"
All of it slowly sank into the darkness.
I stood there motionless.
The field fell silent in moments. The air, stripped of the day's lingering heat, turned chilly, and the dampness rising from the stream wrapped around my ankles.
Above it all stretched a cloudless night sky.
Countless stars twinkled.
Tiny.
Infinitely distant.
Yet undeniably there—lights that existed.
I could almost hear the voices from my past life, the ones adults used to soothe children when someone vanished: Look up at the sky. "They're shining somewhere up there."
Stars had always been in their places; people just layered meaning onto them.
Yet they held my gaze so fiercely.
I couldn't tear my eyes away for a long while.
Were there still so many people in this world shining like that?
Or did all who shone burn themselves out, leaving only their afterglow?
I didn't know.
For now, I just wanted to be alone...
"Stargazing as a hobby? It doesn't suit you."
...I wanted to be alone.
A low voice drifted from behind me. Soft, but devoid of warmth.
"...Scout."
I didn't turn.
Better to watch the stars than give that guy any attention.
"No experiments today. Believe me?"
"Should I?"
How many times had the Scout tricked me into his "research" with lies? His promises were as fleeting as wind rustling grass.
"Ha... A stroll outside the Imperial Palace."
He stepped up beside me. Black coat. Fabric that swallowed even moonlight. Face mask included—a thoroughly unpleasant fellow.
"Lately, your logs show more time spent on the palace outskirts."
I kept my eyes on the night sky.
"Spying on me?"
The Scout's lips curved ever so slightly under the mask. Moonlight thinly grazed his eyes.
"I'd say observing, but that fits too."
He tilted his head slightly, as if testing if I'd catch on.
Creepy bastard.
The mask hid expressions, but not those eyes.
Always the same reflection: curiosity, calculation, and a leisure that saw people as less than human.
"Tracking the Executioner's psychological shifts is in my duties."
His tone stayed flat, as always.
"If you snap, the Empire's survival is at risk."
No emotional inflection. Praise, criticism—it was all just recited observations.
"Psychological shifts."
I tilted my head slightly.
"Stargazing counts as a mental issue?"
"Heh. No, I wouldn't diagnose it solely on that."
He stepped closer. Grass rustled underfoot.
"But weren't you always one to prioritize efficiency?"
"Still am."
"Then answer this."
His gaze fixed on my profile. The eyes beneath the mask didn't reflect the moonlight.
"What does stargazing produce?"
I didn't reply right away.
Production. Gains. Results. His world boiled down to those words.
"Nothing."
"Inefficient, then."
"Better than meddling where I shouldn't and botching a mission—like you did last time and getting chewed out by the Emperor."
"..."
Silence hung for a moment. He lifted his head, as if chewing on my words. Starlight thinly edged the mask.
"Intriguing."
"What is?"
"You used to ignore me outright. This change is fascinating."
The Scout spoke with conviction, his words quickening with excitement.
"You never answered before. Or you'd cut me off like it wasn't worth responding."
...Had I?
It wasn't wrong, but...
Having someone like him— who tracked my speech patterns, breath length, stride width, even hesitations—pick up on it felt off.
"What's the problem?"
I replied curtly on purpose.
Usually, that shut him up, but...
"I didn't call it a problem."
This time was different.
'...Laughing?'
He was. Or maybe not—the mask hid it, but when he laughed, his eyes narrowed just a fraction. An expression he showed mostly for research breakthroughs.
"I said change."
The Scout lifted a fingertip lightly, as if plucking an invisible truth from the air and laying it before me.
"..."
I still faced the sky. Not the stars anymore, but beyond them.
What he called change was the crack forming inside me.
Cracks let in wind, and that could reshape things.
I felt that breeze, faintly.
"You defined yourself as a sword, didn't you?"
"..."
Taking my silence as assent, he continued.
"One that slashes on command, pauses when needed, swings again when required... that kind of blade."
He tilted his head faintly. Moonlight grazed the mask's forehead, deepening the shadow beneath.
"But lately, you're off."
I stayed silent.
"Reporting Don Quixote's last words as 'observed' was sufficient."
"...That was."
"Yet you repeated the phrase to yourself."
"Sure, but."
"Then you returned to that village. Talked to the kids while you were at it."
He listed it methodically, like a scribe detailing a case—or a scholar reporting experiment procedures and results.
"Philia."
He called my name. No title. No honorific. No Executioner.
"You're changing."
"..."
I kept watching the sky.
Starlight seemed to seep into my eyelids—an illusion.
But it wasn't warm. Cold, distant light, endlessly repeating that it couldn't be touched.
"Change is a scholar's lover, but a sovereign's foe."
"Quoting proverbs now? Quite the speech."
Words I'd normally swallow. Inefficient, and I knew it fed his reactions.
A pause.
'...Pfft.'
Hit a nerve, apparently.
"You seem to have forgotten why I always seek you out."
His voice snapped back to its usual chill—thin, intent only.
"Ah."
Right. Nearly forgot.
There was always one reason he came to me.
"Please explain the next mission, Sir Epsilon."
"Very well."
His voice calmed. "That attitude's familiar. A relief, perhaps."
Sir Epsilon slowly extended his hand, producing an envelope from thin air.
Even under moonlight, the wax seal gleamed unnaturally white. Imprinted with the imperial crest.
He didn't toss it. He placed it gently atop my palm—polite as his mask, and just as grating.
"One target."
"Active in the northern sanctuary, at the border of the Grand Duchy and Church Territory."
"Name..."
He paused briefly. Dramatic flair, or pacing the info's weight? Hard to tell anymore.
"Sepir de Hwan."
Not unfamiliar. A name that mattered somewhere.
"He doesn't rule by force."
Sir Epsilon added.
"The opposite of the Emperor."
My fingertips pressed the envelope's edge faintly.
"Philosophy over iron blood. Debate over war... If efficiency defines justice for the Emperor..."
He finished the thought low, like completing a sentence.
No one would rush the Empire's greatest intellect when he paused.
"What type is Sepir de Hwan?"
"Brave to the point of seeming dull, seeking romance over efficiency."
I broke the seal. A soft pop sliced the night's silence.
Neat script filled the document. Target's routes. Contacts. Expected escorts. Key strongholds.
And one final line.
The target is suspected to be a Devil Contractor, though no evidence exists. Numerous testimonies claim he implements 'demonic efficiency,' however.
...No proof, but kill him anyway.
That's how it read to me.
"Sir Epsilon."
My voice came out calmer than expected. Maybe because I willed it so.
"Is this an assassination or an execution?"
"Aren't both manifestations of self? To the Emperor, this one's a villain... Think positively."
"...Hard to grasp."
As if expecting that, Sir Epsilon traced mana in the air, sketching an image.
"If you behead without understanding, it's mere terror rule. If you understand first..."
Another calculated pause.
"That becomes the Empire's will, no?"
The Empire's will.
The phrase from the Emperor's throne room settled over me again.
How many necks had fallen under that name?
How many stars had winked out?
I recited the Five Pillars' creed to fend off stray thoughts.
"All things according to the Empire's will."
"The Empire's will is your own will. Haha. Thought you'd forgotten, but you remember well."
Sir Epsilon chuckled mockingly, as if surprised.
As grating as the Judge.
But...
"Executioner Philia. I shall uphold the imperial command."
Work and personal are separate.
Proxy for the Emperor's justice.
That's what I was forged for.
The border between the Grand Duchy and Church Territory features a river vast enough to mistake for the sea.
Does that make trade easy?
No—a laughable misconception anywhere on the continent.
This river's history is infamous.
For centuries, the Holy Kingdom dumped suspected heretics—confirmed or not—into it, claiming the Mother River's blessings would purify them.
Lazy disposal, really.
But it drank devils' blood, birthed mutated monsters, and turned crimson even after rain—the Blood Sea.
In short: filthy, monster-ridden.
No one dared trade across that border.
Just approaching deepened the river's hue with corpses—crossing? Impossible.
And mocking those rumors came Sepir de Hwan.
Captain of the Triangular Whale.
"Haha! The stench of blood vibrates today!"
A peculiar ship with a massive triangular sail. Hull lower and longer than standard merchants. Deep keel, angled prow—like a beast born to cleave currents.
"Hahaha!"
He laughed heartily from the deck. The leisure of one whose calculations had panned out.
Onlookers already gathered along the bank. A few Grand Duchy merchants. Idle gawkers.
They all knew: months ago, this ship crossed.
And returned.
"Captain!"
A crewman shouted, gripping rigging, eyeing the water uneasily.
"Movement below the surface—lots of it!"
"Aye, wriggling like mad!"
Sepir de Hwan waved, grinning.
"Proof the river's alive, eh!"
His look was distinctive. Long hair tied back, beard neatly trimmed. His unpatched eye gleamed with sharp clarity—not madness, but focus.
A plain sword at his waist—not ornate, not huge. Too ordinary for a captain.
Instead of wielding it, he held a compass.
"Grand Duchy merchants! The Triangular Whale returns again!"
"Knew you would!!"
"Only you, Sepir de Hwan!"
His crew timely unveiled Church goods crammed aboard: blessed arms, ornate rosaries. Treasures merchants craved.
They rushed for the auction as his bold voice rang out.
"Remember the name Sepir de Hwan! One day, it'll claim this river, this land!"
Those clear eyes gazed at the stars.
Oblivious to the encroaching night.