The Guardian (4)
It was a night when the moon climbed into a clear sky. The demonic beasts, usually so ferocious, slept as silent as the dead, while a campfire crackled lazily inside the cave. Along with the flickering flames, a shadow that had not yet succumbed to sleep swayed in tandem.
Nezra stepped into the cave. His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at the figure. The owner of the shadow was a young, innocent-looking boy.
The boy, Eric, sat casually among the demonic beasts, idly playing with his fingers. At the sound of Nezra's approach, Eric turned around. His voice rang out, carrying the high pitch characteristic of a child.
"My Angel is very angry."
"Is that so? And what has made him so furious?"
"He says you took so many of his friends, yet you didn't even do your job. He's screaming at you to explain yourself. My friends are very angry too."
"Hmm, so it seems."
Nezra furrowed his brow. Dark, shadowy silhouettes slithered through the cave. Spirits harboring a hideous malice—creatures that could only be called wraiths—let out shrill, maniacal cackles.
Nezra detested them. He had never been fond of special abilities to begin with, but this was an exceptionally bizarre manifestation even among them. Eric's ability was specialized solely in controlling and materializing wraiths. An ability that relied on borrowing the power of others rather than wielding one's own—to Nezra, who relentlessly pursued the path of martial arts, such a power was difficult to respect. Yet, he could not deny its sheer efficacy.
"Actually, I have plenty to say myself. I would like to speak with Decarabia directly. Would that be alright, boy?"
"...Yes. My Angel has permitted it."
In an instant, Eric's demeanor shifted. The childish immaturity, which even his attempts at acting grown-up couldn't hide, vanished entirely. In its place, a profound, ancient weariness settled into his eyes. The boy's face became as barren as a desert, stripped of even a single drop of emotion.
"Explain yourself, Nezra."
Nezra narrowed his eyes.
"Explain? Explain what?"
"Why did you not kill Baron Isquente? You had more than enough opportunity."
"I was interrupted. Though, personally, I had a rather delightful time. That Calamity Sword fellow is far more entertaining than I anticipated."
"Nonsense. With your skills, you could have easily killed the Baron and escaped."
The wraiths growled ferociously. Whenever Nezra looked at them, he couldn't shake the feeling that they were like well-trained hounds. They might be muzzled for now, but the moment Decarabia gave the word, they would bare their fangs. Nezra found the sight utterly pathetic. To die only to become mere livestock—could there be a more wretched fate for the deceased? The demon let out a cold laugh.
"You are awfully talkative today. You must be quite anxious."
"It is a justified protest. This is a clear breach of contract. If you continue to act this way..."
"I suggest you choose your next words very carefully, Decarabia. Unlike before, you don't have any disposable lackeys here to die in your stead should you lose your host."
"Insolent wretch."
For the first time, a flicker of emotion appeared in the eyes of the boy—or more accurately, Decarabia. It was rage. The wraiths writhed and squirmed as Decarabia's demonic mana overlaid Eric's. Nezra's brow twitched. His control had improved since their last meeting. Before, even when possessing the boy's body, he hadn't been able to dominate the wraiths so effortlessly. Was he finally adapting to the human vessel? He, too, will become a monster before long.
"I came here because I was promised I could fight to my heart's content, unlike in the peace-addled West," Nezra said. "Yet, I've spent far too much time hiding in the shadows. Don't you think we're wasting precious time?"
"I have already compensated you handsomely for that. You must fulfill your end of the contract. I ask you again, Nezra. Why did you not kill Baron Isquente?"
How tedious, Nezra sighed inwardly. He harbored no goodwill toward Baron Isquente. The way the man wielded magic was somewhat intriguing, but that was the extent of it. Normally, he wouldn't have spared his life. But the Calamity Sword was a different story. His battle with that swordsman had been so exhilarating that he had cast aside his mission entirely. Moreover, Nezra had chosen to respect him. Slaying someone else and fleeing in the middle of their duel was not an act of respect. Besides, he could always kill the Baron later, in a far more enjoyable setting. Still, he needed to offer some sort of excuse. If there was an explanation Decarabia would accept, it would be this.
"Well, I admit I indulged in a brief amusement. However, it is also true that the Calamity Sword intervened. He was far stronger than you estimated. Had I forced the issue under those circumstances, even I would have left traces behind."
"Traces... Are you certain? A warrior of your caliber?"
"Of course. Would a swordsman like myself ever lie about a battle?"
"Tsk. Very well. I shall let it slide this once. Since I failed to warn you of the Calamity Sword's intervention, I will concede there was an unforeseen variable. But next time, I expect flawless execution."
"Yes, yes," Nezra replied half-heartedly.
In truth, he couldn't care less what became of the North, but the two demons still needed each other. Nezra needed Decarabia to set up a private stage with the Calamity Sword, and Decarabia needed Nezra to shatter the tedious balance of the North.
"Since you are so eager to fight, an opportunity will present itself soon. Good news for you, I suppose."
I sent the Baron ahead. He was a patient who needed recovery, and we had nothing more to discuss. He insisted he didn't need an escort. Knowing he would want to organize his thoughts, I gave him the space to be alone.
It was a conversation that had to happen eventually. Although the timing had been moved up a bit, I had been looking for the right moment anyway, so it wasn't entirely a bad thing.
However, my mood was heavily subdued. Depressed, perhaps. Part of it was having so many bad memories dredged up... No, it was probably just sheer exhaustion. It had been a grueling day. On top of that, I had almost lost too many people.
I thought I would no longer feel bitter about the deaths of others. I believed I had drawn a firm line and was maintaining it well, but apparently, that wasn't entirely true. The deaths of those I knew still stung.
I must discard this weak heart as quickly as possible. Since I resolved not to be hurt by losing a few people, I should become colder and more ruthless. Yet, my heart has not yet hardened.
"Sirien. Are you hurt somewhere? You look pale."
"No, I'm fine. It doesn't hurt at all."
Rajen's hand rested gently on my shoulder. How simple a creature I am, to feel my heart flutter at such a trivial gesture. The one who needs comfort right now is you, not me. Before I knew it, I was placing my hand over Rajen's. A hand that felt a bit rough, a bit calloused. Yet, it was a warm hand that mirrored his heart, and the melancholy weighing down on me seemed to melt away.
So, what I just said wasn't a lie. Since I am completely healed thanks to you, it really doesn't hurt at all anymore. Now, I want to tend to your wounds.
"What about you, Rajen? I'm sorry. It was your parents' matter, of all people... I should have created an opportunity for you somehow."
"I told you, it's fine. Don't think like that. He isn't the kind of man who would be happy if I got revenge for him. Even if I had chased after him then, I would have definitely been scolded."
"Scolded?"
"My father taught me that a knight is someone who protects. If I had abandoned everything to give chase, I wouldn't have heard anything good from him. There will be a better day for it."
"But still, your heart must be aching."
"I'm really fine—"
Quiet. You're a fool, so you don't even know when you're hurting. I pulled Rajen into a tight embrace. I felt his warm breath against my chest. I rested my cheek against the top of his head. At first, there was a slight resistance as if he wanted to pull away, but when I refused to let go, he soon quieted down.
"Good boy. Let's just stay like this for a little while."
"Sirien? This is, well..."
"Shh. Just rest comfortably."
A fool who knows nothing of human hearts. An idiot who can't even properly realize his own emotions. I've dropped so many hints, yet you haven't noticed a thing, so how could you possibly understand your own heart? It was the same back at the cabin. Even if no one else knows, I do. Even if you don't.
You said you were perfectly fine, but your footsteps were heavier than usual. There was no strength in your eyes, and the end of your voice trembled slightly. If my heart has not yet hardened, then you must have been born with a heart that is far too strong.
"I told you, didn't I? I want you to do this for me when I'm having a hard time. That feeling hasn't changed. Let's hold each other when things are tough."
I'm sorry this is all I can do for you. You are always my top priority. Just as you protect me, I want to protect your heart. Since I couldn't protect it this time, I will at least heal it.
"What's wrong? Is this uncomfortable?"
"No, it's nothing..."
As I held him tight, Rajen shifted his head uncomfortably. You can't escape yet. I pulled Rajen deeper into my embrace, burying his face in my chest. At this distance, could he hear my heartbeat? That was a bit embarrassing. If he heard it thumping, it would feel like all my feelings were laid bare. But since they were exposed a long time ago, it should be fine. I guess even I don't fully understand myself.
As I looked down, I saw Rajen's ears. A sudden urge to press my lips to them washed over me, but I decided to hold back this time. Instead, I whispered softly into his ear.
"I love you."