The Regretful Confession and the Demon God's Vow of Vengeance

Dia Grilite. One of the principal heroines of Palette's Flower, and a woman destined to become the strongest Swordmaster alive — so strong that, far in the future, the world would name her the Sword Saint.

…And the woman who, twenty years ago, had beaten him bloody for reasons he still could not understand.

Those moments still lived in the deepest vault of Dullahan's memory, and from that dark place they transmitted the agony of that day into the present, undimmed, unsoftened, as vivid as if it had happened an hour ago.

If anyone had asked me, before I ever woke up in this world, who my favorite character was, I would have named Dia without a second's hesitation.

She was the most fully realized of every heroine in Palette's Flower — and the most righteous. When she first met Karl she was the so-called little tyrant, a girl who ordered people around as the mood took her. Then she met the protagonist, and little by little she became a knight of genuine justice.

Along the way she threw herself into every crisis that struck the Academy, spending her body without reservation to save countless lives, until at last the consensus formed among the readers: she had truly changed.

Unlike Alice, the Second Princess, who fell for Karl simply because he had saved her, or Saintess Livienne, who was predisposed to like him because he was a transmigrator, Dia's reason for falling in love was something else entirely.

It was watching the protagonist weather crisis after crisis at the Academy that finally let her shed the inferiority complex that had bound her, and take her first true step as a knight. Afterward she opened her heart to the man who had helped her change — and she confessed.

"The truth is… ever since I was little, there was a boy around my age. I thought of him as my rival for a very long time. Of course… that was probably just how I saw it."

"A rival… You're saying there was someone whose skill could actually stand against yours?"

"…Yes. Though for some reason… it seems he gave up the sword."

"…"

"From the moment I first picked up a blade… until just before I entered the Academy… I spent every day looking up at him from under his shadow."

She spoke slowly, her face drawn tight with everything she had been holding back, and she poured it all out to Karl.

"…I wanted to win. I wanted a fair, honest duel with him — sword against sword — and I wanted him, at last, to acknowledge my skill. But…"

For a moment Dia could not go on. The tears came and she could not speak through them. Karl stepped closer and gathered her into his arms.

"It's all right. Take your time."

After he had held her, she stopped crying and went on in a voice still thick with sobs.

"When I finally enrolled at the Academy and met him for the first time… he couldn't hold a sword anymore."

"…He couldn't hold a sword. Why?"

"I don't know what happened… but before we could even start a match, he suddenly collapsed. They examined him afterward. Both of his arms, and his heart — they'd already reached their limit."

"…"

"After that he transferred to the Magic Department, and I lost any way to reach him. I… I lost my purpose in a single instant."

The goal she had worked toward for so long crumbled to nothing when she was a single step away from it. After that she abandoned the sword she had trained with for years, and devoted herself to nothing but ordering people around.

"But Karl… you breathed a new purpose into the sword I'd lost. You carved into me the blade of a true knight."

"…Dia."

"Even if you weren't my first love… right now, more than anyone else in this world… I love you, Karl."

It was a confession dripping with romance. Countless readers threw their weight behind that pairing — Karl and Dia — and I was one of them.

…But for reasons I still don't understand… when I actually stood in front of her, Dia had not yet abandoned the sword.

She hasn't met him yet…

I watched her swinging a practice blade in the training hall, silently cheering on the woman she would become, and I turned to leave.

"You there, student. What's your name? Judging by the uniform… you're not from the Swordsmanship Department, are you?"

The guards called out. I walked over, gave them my name and my department, and tried to go.

"Ah — I'm Dullahan Franz, a first-year in the Magic Department. I was just glancing over out of curiosity."

"…Wait! You there!!"

But my steps were cut short by a girl who came running toward me, shouting — and after that, her forced demand left me with no choice but to duel her.

Why is she making me fight? I'm a magic student…

And everything that followed… was nothing but the stuff of nightmares.

I couldn't risk the side effects of the Honeybee Clan. I never even faced her properly. I lost, and I lost badly.

What came after was physical violence so brutal I still cannot make ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sense of it — and the psychological wreckage of being trampled by the character I had loved most in the world.

"Why… why… are you attacking me…?"

"…"

When I looked up at her with a face that mixed incomprehension and the humiliation of being crushed underfoot, she answered in a voice like ice.

The words she spoke that day — I recited them back to her now, exactly as they were.

"N-no…!"

"I don't know what you mean by 'no,' Dia Grilite."

"That wasn't how I really felt… it wasn't…! I don't know anything about Karl, either… everything I said is true…!"

I left her pleading behind me, glanced around, asked Pelican to raise a kind of invisible barrier, and then I slapped her across the face.

"…!"

"Oops. That one wasn't even a sincere hit… it just came out on its own."

I was standing there perfectly fine, after all — not a single side effect from the Honeybee Clan. I checked my own condition, then looked at the girl wearing a face of pure shock.

Thwack!! Thwack!! Thwack!!

I kept slapping her, my expression indifferent, and Dia — taking hit after hit that carried none of my "sincerity" — finally crumpled under the shock and went down.

"Dullahan…"

"Do you understand now, Dia Grilite? The weight of everything you did to me."

I had never once attacked her in earnest. If I had put my true heart into it… she would no longer be among the living.

Which meant that every slap I had just given her was delivered without a shred of genuine intent — and she still couldn't take it. She still went down.

"Whether you meant it, or you had some reason you couldn't talk about, or it was just a whim…"

"…"

"That's not a fact that matters much to me. Is it?"

What mattered was only this: because of what she did, Dullahan himself had been torn apart — body and soul.

"You say it wasn't sincere… Then how much of your sin am I supposed to pardon?"

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I was wrong… I was wrooong…"

"The same girl who trampled me that badly… went down from attacks that didn't even mean anything. What was I supposed to do back then, as weak as I was?"

"I was wrong… Dullahan… please forgive me… please…"

She had completely broken. All she could do was beg for forgiveness, over and over. I looked down at Dia clinging to my ankle, and without a second thought I kicked her away.

Those brilliant blue eyes of hers had lost their light, sunk entirely into darkness. The silver hair that had once been nobler than anyone's hung in a complete tangle.

She was ruined. Completely. That was Dullahan's verdict as he looked down at her.

"You shouldn't fall apart over something this small, Dia Grilite."

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry…!!"

"…You really do disappoint me, right to the end. I suppose I should call that consistency at this point."

I scrapped every plan I had made to make her suffer further, turned my back on the girl lying there, and started to leave.

"Don't go… I was wrooong…"

"…Love really is a terrifying emotion, isn't it?"

She crawled, barely, and caught my ankle again. I looked down at her with a bitter ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠expression.

"Even after everything… I still had some scrap of goodwill left for you, even at the end. I thought those feelings were already gone."

"I'm sorry… please…"

"Which is exactly why you shouldn't have done that to me. You shameless bitch."

I shook her off with a few indifferent flicks of my foot, my face blank again, and walked slowly out of the banquet hall.

I had already ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠confirmed Karl wasn't there. I left the ruined girl behind without a single remaining emotion, without a shred of attachment.

"Nooo… don't gooo… Lord Dullahan…"

And Dia, watching Dullahan recede step by step, could not even stand. All she could do was stretch a limp hand toward him.

"I really can't tell… whether you've got not a fucking shred of shame, or whether you're actually sorry."

Dia lay wretchedly on the floor, one hand still ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠reaching for Dullahan — and then that hand was stomped down, and a wave of agony tore a small whimper from her throat.

"Aaah…"

"Hi there. We met not too long ago, didn't we?"

Dia looked up at the owner of the foot crushing her hand. The shock left her barely able to speak. Her voice trembled.

"You… why… are you…?"

"Hmm? Did you think a Demon God dies just once and that's the end? Too bad~~ I can rewind time, you know!!"

It was none other than Pelican — who until moments ago had been inside the necklace Dullahan wore — standing over her now in the garments of her days as the Demon God.

"Ah… ah…!!"

"From this moment on, you are going to experience every last thing our master suffered at your hands. Eeeexactly as he did."

Pelican smiled down at Dia as the Nightmare magic pulled her under — a smile so beautiful it was enough to make your skin crawl.