The Hero (3)
It had already been four days since Aria was more or less kidnapped by the hero, Ashtain. Naturally, the Sex Cult was thrown into complete chaos. They never imagined the hero would pull off something so far outside the norm as abducting the Saintess.
The church sent an official letter of protest to the Gallia Kingdom, demanding an explanation for the hero’s behavior. In response, the kingdom shot back that the Saintess had always been meant to accompany the hero anyway, so what was the problem? It was true that the process and formalities had been trampled, breeding resentment. But looking only at the result, there wasn’t any real issue. The Saintess hadn’t died or been injured, after all. It was just a bit unseemly.
The church knew this too, so they couldn’t escalate the matter any further. From another perspective, it would have been the same as publicly announcing that their security had been breached by a single hero.
Meanwhile, the hero and Saintess who had sparked this power struggle between the two factions arrived at a village on the mid-slope of Asendio Mountain, the largest peak in the Asendio Mountain Range.
Upon reaching the village, the pair looked for an inn, but by some twist of fate, only one room remained. Ashtain had assumed Aria would whine about it, saying something like, “A man and woman sharing a room? How improper!” But…
“I’m fine with it, but are you uncomfortable sharing a room with me, Mister Ashtain?”
She seemed completely unbothered. He decided to raise his evaluation of Aria. Not that it changed much—she was still barely passing.
Once inside the room, their behaviors diverged sharply. Ashtain settled down and began polishing his sword with a dry cloth, while Aria threw herself onto the bed. A brief silence settled over the room.
A short while later, after finishing with his sword, Ashtain glanced at Aria sprawled face-down on the mattress.
“You okay?”
She shook her head without lifting her face from the bedding. Her lustrous black hair fluttered against the sheets.
“………I’m dying.”
The word choice was a bit extreme coming from the Saintess, but Ashtain let it slide. She really did look like a delicate flower raised in a greenhouse.
“Four straight days in a carriage would wear anyone out.”
Aside from brief stops for meals and sleep, they had practically lived inside that carriage. Even a modern car with plush cushions and minimal vibration would leave you wrecked after four days. So what about a rickety medieval carriage built with crude technology? For someone as frail as Aria, enduring the aftereffects was no small feat.
She stopped groaning and shot him a sidelong glare with narrowed eyes.
“………Why do you look perfectly fine, Mister Ashtain?”
Her resentful question amused him in a strange way. He had thought she was skilled at hiding her emotions, but it seemed she simply couldn’t express them properly.
“I’m used to it.”
“How many carriage rides does it take to get used to it?”
Ashtain stared at a strange brown stain on the inn’s ceiling as he thought back. How much vomiting and suffering had it taken before he adapted to carriages? It had been quite a while. Even now, the memory made him nauseous.
When he finished reminiscing and looked up, he found Aria watching him and answered.
“It differs from person to person, so it’s hard to give an exact number.”
Someone as delicate as you would probably take a long time. He swallowed the rest of the thought. But the Saintess seemed to have guessed what he was thinking from his expression. Her face turned ashen.
“……When I return to the church, I’ll have to ride in a carriage again, won’t I?”
Her voice was heavy with deep despair. Ashtain replied as if he had heard something absurd.
“Were you planning to walk?”
“……It’s not impossible.”
Not impossible. To him, that was an extremely dangerous statement.
“Don’t even think about it. You’ll collapse.”
“…I really don’t want to experience this motion sickness twice.”
“It’s good to show strong resolve, but with your stamina, Saintess, it won’t be easy.”
“……I’m used to marching.”
“You don’t look it at all.”
There was no way Ashtain could have known that Aria was a military veteran in her previous life. Though honestly, who would have guessed?
“Haaaa…”
The thin sigh she let out was closer to a lament. Ashtain gazed at the Saintess melted across the bed like chocolate left in the sun. The sensual curves visible beneath her robe. Her faintly flushed face. Taken out of context, the scene was incredibly suggestive, yet he spoke indifferently.
“If it’s that bad, why not use a Holy Spell?”
At the hero’s suggestion, Aria gave a faint smile.
“………I already did. This is after using one.”
“I see. Too bad.”
The conversation died there. Neither of them was particularly talkative, and there was no reason to drag it out.
Just as Ashtain was thinking, Since Aria took the bed, I guess I’ll sleep on the floor,…
“Um, Mister Ashtain.”
A shy voice reached him.
“What?”
“……It’s been four days in the same clothes. I feel gross.”
It was true—her robe was visibly soiled. After wearing it nonstop for four days without washing, it was inevitable.
“Don’t you have a change of clothes?”
His question earned a sharp retort.
“In that situation, did you honestly think I had time to pack extra clothes? Logically speaking?”
Ashtain recalled their first meeting. It had been right after she finished relieving herself and was pulling up her underwear. Remembering the circumstances, he could understand.
“Sorry for barging in while you were taking a piss. Still, at least it wasn’t the other end…”
“No! Why does the conversation always go there?!”
Her voice suddenly grew loud despite how weakly she had been groaning moments ago. Ashtain covered his ears and frowned.
“Whatever. What’s your point?”
Aria scrunched her eyebrows into a perfect ‘八’ shape, twisting her expression, then took a deep breath. In a crawling voice, she said,
“……Could you possibly buy me some clothes?”
“That’s not hard.”
“……I’ll have the church reimburse you later.”
“No need. It happened because of my mistake, so it’s only right that I buy them.”
“There’s no need for you to…”
Ashtain cut off Aria’s words and stood up.
“Even a backwater village like this should have at least one clothing shop. Let’s go, Aria.”
“Huh? Right now?”
Looking out the window, the sunset was already fading. She had planned to ask him to buy them tomorrow since it was getting late…
“Weren’t you the one complaining about feeling gross?”
“……Well, yes, but still.”
Aria, who had underestimated the hero’s drive, ended up going to buy clothes on the spot.
Ashtain had never bought women’s clothes in his life, and Aria had only ever worn her religious robes. The very situation of the two of them shopping for clothes stirred quite a bit of imagination, but the clothes they actually purchased were rather plain. Their reactions, however, were anything but.
“………This is weird. It’s weird.”
Aria’s voice trembled without restraint. She had unwillingly worn plenty of revealing outfits before, but this was the first time she had ever worn proper women’s clothing.
“What is?”
“L-look. It’s… it’s a skirt.”
“What’s wrong with a woman wearing a skirt?”
It was a logically irrefutable statement. Aria felt an extreme sense of alienation as she looked down at the skirt she was wearing. Beneath the light, flowing A-line skirt, her pale legs were boldly exposed. There must have been more modest options—why did it have to be something like this? Her face burned hot. Her unusually timid steps clearly revealed the depth of her embarrassment.
“……It really is weird.”
“It looks good on you, so stop whining.”
This looks good on me? Those were empty words. Of course they were—Ashtain hadn’t spared her a single glance.
“……Don’t tease me.”
“You caught me?”
“……….”
“You’re going to bore a hole in my forehead. Stop staring.”
The two walked back toward the inn. The sky that had burned red had long since turned into a cold, dark navy. The air had grown quite chilly; white puffs of breath escaped their mouths. Aria watched her breath dissipate into the air, then cupped her hands together and blew warm air into them. Her cold hands grew a little warmer.
“Winter will be here soon.”
Ashtain gave a short nod at Aria’s words. Winter. Winter was coming. The season when life that couldn’t withstand the low temperatures would flicker out like a candle in the wind was now right on their doorstep.
This would be her second winter in this world. Aria’s expression grew deeply sentimental. Ashtain glanced at her before asking in a low voice.
“Do you like winter?”
Like or dislike. It was ambiguous to pick just one. …Still.
“Cold is better than hot.”
She shuddered, recalling this year’s summer. The duet of mosquitoes and cicadas was equally infernal no matter the world.
“I prefer hot weather.”
“We’re complete opposites.”
“Yeah, I guess. Does that bother you?”
“There are many differences in taste, so I have no intention of arguing over it.”
“Same here.”
From that point on, their conversation remained dry. Aria, who was rather quick-witted, noticed that Ashtain’s responses were more indifferent than usual. So she asked directly.
“……Did I say something wrong by chance?”
“No. It’s just that I have a rather large victim complex.”
“Pardon?”
Why had the word “victim complex” suddenly come up? As Aria tilted her head in confusion at the puzzling answer, he gave a mischievous smile.
“You grew up pretty well-off, didn’t you?”
Well-off. Aria pondered the meaning of the word. Abundance and fortune. Intuitively, it meant having good fortune, and that was likely what Ashtain meant. For a moment, her mouth fell open and she lost her words.
“……Me?”
“Yeah.”
That careless remark instantly soured her mood. Well-off? Her? Transmigrated into an unfamiliar world, forcibly conditioned to fit the mold of a Saintess. Whenever she resisted or rebelled, she was molested until her mind broke under the pretext of “punishment.” And he called her well-off? Where in this wretched environment was there any fortune to be found?
“You look resentful.”
“Because I am resentful.”
At Aria’s noticeably colder tone, Ashtain gave a bitter smile.
“Why do you prefer winter over summer?”
“……Cold is better than hot, isn’t it?”
“Why?”
Why? Aria was about to answer from a modern person’s perspective when she realized Ashtain’s eyes were serious. So she closed her mouth. When she fell silent, he slowly began to speak.
“Sorry. I spoke too sensitively.”
Ashtain admitting his own fault. For some reason, it looked like he was running away. Wasn’t that funny? A man bold enough to kidnap a Saintess was avoiding a simple conversation. She didn’t want to end the discussion in such an awkward place. Wasn’t that cowardly? To label someone “well-off” arbitrarily and then back out.
“Then why do you prefer summer over winter, Mister Ashtain?”
At her probing tone, he gave an awkward smile. The forced expression resembled the smile Aria usually wore. It looked like the smile of someone whose insides had rotted black.
“It’s rare for people to die from heat, but many die from cold.”
For someone as blunt as Ashtain, it was a rather roundabout explanation. Fortunately, Aria wasn’t foolish enough to miss his meaning.
“………I’m sorry for my careless remark.”
“It’s fine. I was the one who nitpicked over nothing. That’s why I said I have a big victim complex.”
Aria looked at the self-willed hero once more. His eyes looked a little sad. The eyes of someone who had lost something were always empty.
“………Still, you’re not the only one who’s unhappy.”
“Yeah. Everyone carries their own burdens. I misspoke. Don’t be too angry.”
Aria stared at Ashtain in silence. He scratched the back of his head and sighed.
“I said I’m sorry, didn’t I?”
“Why would I be angry? I’m the one who made the mistake.”
At Aria’s words, Ashtain’s eyes widened, then he let out a soft laugh.
“You know… you don’t have any venom in you.”
“………?”
“Ah, I don’t mean that in a bad way. At least among everyone who’s been by my side so far, you’re the best.”
“I’m not happy to hear that.”
“I didn’t say it to make you happy.”
After talking like that, they soon arrived back at the inn. Once they reached the room they had reserved, Aria looked at Ashtain as if she had just remembered something.
“Th-thank you for buying me the clothes.”
“You’re only saying that now?”
“I’m sor…”
His large hand covered Aria’s mouth.
“Don’t apologize. It was a joke.”
What a stiff Saintess who can’t even take a joke, Ashtain grumbled to himself. At first he had wondered what kind of rude person she was, but she turned out to be surprisingly decent. For some reason, Aria felt like she was beginning to understand why he was called the “hero.”
Ashtain changed the subject with a question.
“By the way, what about showering? You want to go first?”
Showering. She did need to wash. “You go first, Mister Ashtain. I tend to take long showers, so…”
“Suit yourself.”
Ashtain immediately began stripping off his clothes without hesitation. Aria calmly picked up each garment he tossed aside and folded them neatly. Her behavior seemed to baffle him, because he asked,
“What are you doing?”
“I’m organizing your clothes for you.”
“I wasn’t asking because I didn’t know… Never mind. You really are something else, just like me.”
At those words, Aria’s eyebrows twisted.
“I am not a weirdo like you, Mister Ashtain.”
“I never said you were a weirdo.”
“Wasn’t that the implication?”
“……Don’t people usually get startled when a guy takes his shirt off? Well, it’s better than screaming, I suppose.”
“And knowing that, you still stripped so casually?”
“It’s fun to see you flustered.”
Aria reconsidered. He really was a strange hero.
“Not at all.”
“Boring.”
Ashtain headed into the bathroom. Aria finished folding his clothes, then sat on the edge of the bed and waited. The soundproofing must have been terrible, because she could hear water running at regular intervals.
Before long, a damp Ashtain emerged with a towel wrapped around his lower half.
“I’m done. Your turn.”
“Yes.”
Aria gathered her things and entered the bathroom. Just as she had said, her shower took a long time. An extremely long time.
It had already been four hours since Aria entered the bathroom. The hour had passed from evening into the deep hours of the night.
What the hell?
No matter how you looked at it, wasn’t this taking too long? Ashtain suddenly felt a bad premonition. He tended to trust his instincts, and once he made up his mind, he never backed down. Instead of knocking, he tried to open the bathroom door.
Click. Click.
Of course, it was locked. His actions were swift. He broke the door down and entered.
He couldn’t close his mouth.
“……Hey, you.”
“………Ah, s-sorry. Was I taking too long?”
Aria spoke casually. However, her skin was covered in red scratches here and there. Some parts were even bleeding. Just how hard had she been scrubbing with the bath towel to end up like this? Didn’t it hurt?
“I’ll be out soon. It’s been so long since I last washed that I lost track of time.”
At her nonchalant reply, Ashtain’s eyes narrowed. There was no anger or embarrassment at having barged in on a woman bathing. Something about it smelled sinister.
“Those wounds…”
Only then did Aria seem to notice the scratches on her own body.
“Ah, these?”
Her voice was bright, completely at odds with the situation.
“Filth has to be washed away.”
With an unclouded face, she spoke as if stating an obvious truth. He was stunned. This girl was supposed to be “well-off”? Bullshit.
Ashtain cursed himself for speaking so carelessly.