A Heavy Burden on Small Shoulders
Dorothy couldn't help but worry about Angel-nim, who sat slumped over as if all the strength had gone out of her.
“Um, Angel-nim…?”
“Dorothy, let’s leave Angel-nim alone for a little while.”
“Tiss needs some time.”
Just as Dorothy was gathering her courage to speak, the moment Tiss’s unapproachable atmosphere made her hesitate, Siwoo and Sia gently stopped her with soft hands.
“Ah, I understand.”
Siwoo and Sia led Dorothy a step away and quietly watched over Tiss.
When they had been chosen by the Kitchen Knife of the Mess Swordsman and the Hero's Shield, they had felt as if they possessed everything in the world. At last they had gained a power strong enough to stand in for the abilities they lacked. They could protect Tiss. Sia and Siwoo had believed that if they could guard their older sister Tiss with sword and shield, they would gladly accept this selection.
Looking at Tiss clutching her head and muttering that she had no idea why, their hearts tore just as badly as they had two years ago, when they thought they had lost her in the great explosion.
The instant they learned Tiss had drawn the Holy Sword, despair swallowed them whole.
The one who draws the Holy Sword. Every existence in this world—Hunters and Heroes, the Management Bureau and monster cultists—would turn their eyes toward that person. Even if it was only a replica, the conditions were identical to the genuine Holy Sword, which meant drawing it was the same as obtaining the qualifications of a Hero.
“Oppa, now we really have to protect Tiss Unnie.”
“Yeah. We will. No matter what.”
They swore it then and there: they would cut down every enemy who came for Tiss, and they would protect her with sword and shield.
I have no idea what's going on.
W-why us? I'm a—and besides, a monster… right? A host who harbors a monster becoming a Hero? Th-this doesn't make any sense. I-it's a fake Holy Sword!
Tiss and Shan turned the question over and over: why on earth had the Holy Sword chosen them?
There was a fact Tiss herself had failed to notice, something she had completely overlooked. Because of Tiss's choice, Siwoo and Sia had survived the insect nest. That survival had bound them to her in a deep relationship, and their fates had changed in a fundamental way.
Like a butterfly's wingbeat becoming a storm, a destiny in which only one sibling was meant to live had become a destiny in which both of them lived. The protagonist who was supposed to walk a lonely road of hardship and naturally grow into the hero who protected the world now had a place to rest their heart, because their precious blood relative had survived.
And so Siwoo and Sia's convictions never turned toward protecting the world. Their true feelings had already pointed somewhere else entirely: toward the girl who had been the pillar of their two years of brutal training, the one who had given them a faith that bordered on religious devotion. Tiss herself.
On top of that, Tiss knew what the future held. For the sake of her own survival she had been moving in ways that would, in the end, prevent the world's destruction. Sacrificing herself to become the host of Shan—Abaddon's Spawn, who could become a new Calamity—matched the very conditions the Hero's trial demanded.
It was a tragedy born of her failure to consider just how enormous an influence she had already had on the two of them. If she had never entered the selection chamber at all, or if she had declined the Treasure Selection on the grounds that she already possessed White Ghost's treasure, things might have been different. Once she had stepped inside, there was no taking it back.
Tiss, what's going to h-happen to us?
We're fucked, that's what.
Hiiiik…! D-don't make jokes like that.
Yeah. I wish it were a joke too.
I left Shan, who was throwing a complete fit, alone for a moment and tried to get my thoughts in order.
Huu.
The Holy Sword being drawn was a matter serious enough for the Bureau Director—the city's real ruler—to move in person. The only reason they hadn't tried to contact us yet was because Baba Yaga and White Ghost, both former members of the Hero Party, were here. If those two hadn't been present, they would already have hauled me down to Zero Area, the deepest layer of Neo Sion, on the pretext of confirming the facts.
Less than an hour had passed since word got out that I had been chosen by the Holy Sword, and already Watchers had been dispatched all over the Academy, ringing us in.
Best case, they would use me as propaganda and make me operate as a Hero. Worst case, they would send me to a lab to dissect me or clone me in the name of investigating my connection to the Hero—and there, my identity would come to light.
Knock knock knock.
The door opened on Baba Yaga's exhausted face and White Ghost, who kept her usual blank expression as they stepped inside.
“Daughter is the best. Mom is proud of her daughter.”
“What ‘daughter is the best,’ you damn white mutt! Aigoo, my insides are exploding.”
Baba Yaga chopped White Ghost on the head with the edge of her hand.
Pok.
A cute little sound came out.
“Granny doesn't hurt.”
“Ugh.”
Baba Yaga, who was usually all smiles and childish mischief, looked thoroughly worn out today.
“What happens to us now?”
“What happens? You just keep attending the Academy, that's all.”
“Huh?”
“What, did you think we'd form a Hero Party on the spot and send you off to the monster lands beyond the Area barriers?”
Baba Yaga dragged a chair over, sat down, and stroked her chin as if she had no idea where to begin.
“I'll just say whatever comes to mind, so listen carefully to the important parts. Understood?”
“Yes.”
Everyone nodded. Baba Yaga started with the results of the meeting.
“As I just said, you will continue attending the Academy as you are. You'll receive the same education as everyone else. The treasures you've been chosen by will be handed over as soon as the procedures are finished. Of course there will be various benefits, surveillance, and summons here and there, but the basic framework is this.”
Unlike the Bureau Director, who had wanted to summon us and put us to work immediately, Baba Yaga had fought tooth and nail against sending us outside the Academy.
“We had a huge fight. He said he'd cut me from the Heroes, treat me as a Villain, do whatever he damn well pleased, and so on.”
“I-is that okay?”
“It's that Director bastard's responsibility. Who was it that dragged me here as acting principal when I was resting perfectly well? The Director himself. So who's blaming whom? If he didn't like it, he shouldn't have called me in the first place.”
Baba Yaga waved a hand, telling us she would handle her own business and not to worry.
Unlike the Abaddon subjugation party, which had been assembled from already-complete individuals like themselves, the ones chosen by the treasures this time were freshmen who had only just entered the Academy. Sending kids like that outside right now would be a perfect way to get them killed by Villains with malice in their hearts. Baba Yaga's argument was that they needed absolute time to grow.
“Sia.”
“Ah, yes!”
“This old woman has already contacted the Mess Swordsman. Don't expect too much. That cook fellow is someone we don't even know is alive or dead, same as White Ghost.”
“Then, for now, I'll inherit that kitchen knife?”
“Yes. When that cook left the knife, he wrote a book so later generations wouldn't have trouble. I'll find it and deliver it soon. Study on your own with the book for now, and if there's anything you don't understand, ask this white mutt here.”
Sia's gaze shifted to White Ghost, who drew a V-sign with her still-expressionless face.
“I learned the basics of the Cooking Sword.”
“That White Ghost. They say even a dog at a village school recites poetry after three years. Thanks to three years of adventuring with the cook, she can at least boil ramyeon.”
“That's amazing. Mother… no, White Ghost-nim.”
“Mm.”
White Ghost let out a small, proud snort.
“Siwoo, you…”
“Yes.”
“Know that you must not waver. The Hero fellow didn't say anything particular when he entrusted the sword and shield. That meaning is surely tied to the selection conditions.”
Hold an unwavering will, and keep the oath to protect the people who matter. For Siwoo, those people were his younger sister Sia and Tiss.
“Furball, this old woman is most worried about you right now.”
Baba Yaga looked at me with genuine pity. Sia and Siwoo's faces darkened with hers.
“I don't know if I should even say this, but the Holy Sword you drew is not the real one. It is merely a symbol that you passed the Hero's trial.”
“Yes, I know. It's a replica, not the genuine article.”
“That's right, furball. As you said, the Holy Sword is a replica. There might be some arrangement of the Hero we don't know about, but it's best not to expect too much.”
Baba Yaga clicked her tongue, muttering that it would have been better if I had become her disciple.
“The problem is that compared to its value, what you have to carry on those small shoulders of yours is far too heavy.”
I was regretting it too. If I had known I would actually draw the Holy Sword, I would have become Baba Yaga's disciple, made up some excuse about fairness, and never set foot in the selection chamber. The regret came far too late.
“Ah, can't I still take it back? The treasures in the selection room can be chosen at the end, r-right…?”
Baba Yaga and White Ghost both looked at me as if to ask whether I was serious. I trailed off.
“Up to our treasures as former Hero Party members, yes. But the Holy Sword is an exception.”
“Yeah. Once you draw it, you can't put it back.”
Uwaaang~ I-it's a damn bound item. Wh-what kind of Holy Sword is this. It's a curse! Tiss, what do we do now…!
Shan was right. It was a cursed bound item. White Ghost's daughter, who had inherited the sword of the Hero who killed Abaddon's Spawn, turned out to be a host harboring Abaddon's Spawn. If I told anyone that, they would call it a joke that wasn't even funny and wouldn't listen with so much as one ear. And that joke was me?
Shan, how about we change the way we think about this. Let's say the game was too easy, so we started hardcore mode.
Hic…! I-I never agreed to the terms…! Our safety-first… survival priority… wh-where did they all go.
Sorry. Even I think that's a stretch.
I was truly sorry to Shan. I should have at least considered, even once, the possibility that I—not Siwoo or Sia—would be chosen by the Hero's Holy Sword.
N-no, Tiss doesn't need to be s-sorry. It's just.… this situation is t-too unfair.
Yeah. But I'm still sorry. And thank you.
From now on, people from every direction would target me and try to get close. In that situation, the one thing that absolutely could not come to light was the fact that I was a monster's host.
Sparkle!
Whether it understood my feelings or not, the Holy Sword poured out brilliant light as if begging to be picked up, and I found it even more repulsive. How was that a Holy Sword? It wasn't a Holy Sword. It was a Demon Sword. A Demon Sword.
Was it because I had mocked the Holy Sword by calling it a Demon Sword?
The moment we returned to the classroom, a new trial welcomed us with open arms.
“Who is it? Who drew the Holy Sword?”
“A brat like that is a Hero? I absolutely can't accept it.”
“Hey, let's have a match.”
They were students from the upper class of the Hero department. They shot us looks that mixed the raw, unfiltered displeasure unique to arrogant kids with pride in themselves.
But why were those guys glaring at Siwoo instead of me?