The Two Become One
“Let’s pretend I never said that.”
“Fine by me.”
It was a grand misunderstanding already etched into his mind, but Ashtain understood with generous grace.
After all, if he poked at it under the guise of mockery and accidentally pressed some panic button, the one who’d suffer would be him.
Leon sorted through the shame burning in his chest and turned his gaze to his doppelganger.
A sigh slipped out. He wasn’t sure which of them had released it.
“I have so much to say, yet I don’t even know where to begin.”
The real one and the fake.
They stared at each other like mirror images standing on opposite sides of the glass.
“...Did I misunderstand?”
“It was a perfectly crafted script.”
Edelis had not been wounded by the doppelganger.
He understood that only now.
A shadow. What had stabbed Edelis that day was a demon’s shadow.
A trap laid with meticulous cunning. That was where the misunderstanding had begun.
Leon clenched his fist until the knuckles paled.
“I wanted to kill you on the spot.”
At the word kill, Edelis reacted instinctively.
The real Leon watched his knight and offered her a bright smile.
She was someone he could always trust.
The doppelganger asked in return, “And now?”
He loosened his clenched fist and smoothed his expression into something gentler.
“Strangely enough, I no longer feel that urge.”
“Is that so?”
“It’s not thanks to you.”
“I know. It’s thanks to Dame Edelis and Sir Ashtain, isn’t it?”
The real Leon’s face crumpled.
Annoyance. Resentment. Both flickered across his features.
“Why does the fake version of me receive more attention?”
“People must have found the one destined to disappear pitiful and sad.”
“And I’m not pitiful?”
“They say the fake one always ends up more twisted, don’t they?”
“What ridiculous logic. Our temperament and personality are identical. What reason is there to claim one is superior or inferior?”
“Are you whining like a child now?”
“What’s wrong with throwing a small tantrum? We’re both the same ‘me.’”
The same ‘me.’
A simple truth known from the very beginning.
Yet at some point it had been forgotten—a truth far too enormous to ignore.
The doppelganger spoke as though gazing at something pathetic.
“Don’t develop an inferiority complex toward your fake self. Have you no shame?”
“Since you’re also ‘me,’ what shame is there?”
“You tried to kill me, yet your tongue still runs so smoothly.”
“Precisely because it’s ‘me’ that I can kill without hesitation.”
“That much I can understand.”
After all, Leon had never been particularly kind to himself.
Their exchange came close to a monologue.
Since they had been created to resemble each other from the moment of their birth, such a conversation was only natural.
The hero’s party listened quietly to the self-questioning and answering of the man who was both two and one.
“Just as the real you carries your own burdens, the fake me carries burdens of my own.”
“I agonized over it endlessly. In the end, I relearned the obvious lesson that even when it comes to my own precious self, I cannot yield.”
“Yes. I don’t want to yield Edelis.”
“Truly.”
Their emotions resonated.
They matched perfectly.
Leon and Leon.
The ones standing here were the same existence.
At that moment, light bloomed.
Everyone closed their eyes.
When they opened them again, the two Leons had become one.
As though it had always been that way.
Leon wore a complicated expression and pressed a hand to his temple.
Edelis rushed to his side and supported him.
“A-are you all right, Your Highness!”
Leon gently stroked her cheek.
“It’s dizzying. The memories are surging up like a fountain.”
Leon now understood the nature of the curse placed upon him.
One of the ancient curses.
Division.
A curse that split the self apart, only to merge again once time had passed.
The condition was that the two entities had to recognize each other as the same ‘me.’
The reason the separated self did not appear in mirrors was simple: something composed of information and soul could not reflect.
Had he killed the other, the memories and fragment of soul belonging to that individual would have been lost forever.
It had been a far more dangerous situation than he realized.
Leon repeatedly opened and closed his palm.
His body felt normal.
The prince gazed at Edelis for a moment, then suddenly yanked her toward him.
It was nearly an ambush.
No matter how seasoned the knight, she could not resist the pull of her own body.
There was a difference in size, and a difference in gender.
Edelis’s body tilted.
No. That was merely an excuse.
She knew what was coming yet could not refuse.
And so their lips met.
Some time later, Leon pulled away.
“This is my seal declaring that you are mine.”
“.........Your Highness.”
The face of Edelis Bride, usually so businesslike and formal, flushed a vivid pomegranate red.
A fresh, youthful aura radiated from her.
The season was unmistakably winter, yet spring leaves seemed to have blossomed unnoticed.
Ashtain remained indifferent to the prince and knight’s kiss, but both Azazel and Aria let out soft gasps of delight.
Something about the scene must have stirred their sensibilities.
He—who was neither the original nor the doppelganger—formed a rather malicious smile.
“Do you realize how detestable you looked, worrying over the doppelganger’s safety?”
“.........T-that was...”
Edelis had no idea how to respond.
Leon stroked her hair.
“But you were right. We shouldn’t have killed him.”
“Pardon?”
“He was me. It was a trap from the very beginning.”
“...Is that true?”
“It is. Whether I killed him or refused to coexist with him, both paths led to ruin. A perfect trap.”
He paused and looked at Edelis.
What emotions, what heart, did that gaze contain?
Perhaps a fierce, torrential affection.
“Dame Edelis. Thank you. For protecting me. For telling me not to give up on myself.”
“Your Highness is someone who must shine brightly. As your subject, it was only natural that I—”
“It was those very natural words that gave me strength.”
His hand, carrying the weight of his upright heart, gripped hers tightly.
The sight was enough to warm anyone’s chest.
Leon brushed the corner of his eye and turned to Ashtain.
“Let’s set our own issues aside for now. Shouldn’t we repay our benefactor?”
Ashtain scratched the back of his head.
“Repay?”
Leon answered simply.
“You must have a reason for wandering the palace.”
“I do.”
“I know a place connected to the hero.”
The place Leon spoke of was most likely where the ‘truth’ mentioned by the previous hero’s replica resided.
Ashtain glanced at his watch.
“Can we go right now?”
“My brother will soon impose restrictions. If you’re going to move, now is the perfect time.”
“...I was asking whether your own position would be all right.”
Leon swept his bangs back.
“I no longer wish to torment myself with trivial worries. I’m tired of headaches.”
Ashtain looked at Aria and Azazel.
“What do you want to do?”
“We should go.”
“Yes, let’s.”
The majority of the party agreed.
The destination was decided.
* * *
The perspective returned to the present.
Only the echo of footsteps on the spiral staircase filled the air.
“The place we’re heading to now has existed for several hundred years. It may be even older. After all, it’s a space created by the first hero’s companion.”
Aria found those words deeply meaningful.
Usually when you visit a place like this, there’s some kind of arrangement left by the first hero, isn’t there?
Considering that events in this world seemed to flow according to the original novel, visiting such a significant location carried a strong possibility of triggering some major incident.
That was why Aria felt anxious.
The situation was fitting together far too neatly.
Without the slightest dissonance.
Yet she could not turn away. Why else had they come all the way to the capital?
The truth.
Perhaps this was the story that dealt with the novel’s central conflict.
“Sister, you’re making that gloomy face again.”
Azazel poked Aria’s cheek after reading her expression.
The casual gesture helped Aria relax.
Yes. There was no need to harden her face from now on.
“It just feels like everything is falling into place too smoothly.”
“Aha? Yeah, yeah. Sometimes things solve themselves so perfectly it feels unpleasant.”
“And in those moments, it always……”
Ashtain’s index finger pressed against Aria’s lips.
“If it’s going to be a negative comment, better not say it.”
Come to think of it, things rarely went as spoken.
Recalling that unpleasant cliché, Aria nodded.
“You’re right. That was a slip of the tongue.”
“I’m not scolding you, so don’t look so down.”
Chatting comfortably, they finally reached the bottom of the spiral staircase.
A heavy iron door, cold to the touch, stood firmly shut.
Azazel approached and tapped it lightly with the back of her hand.
She was checking the magic sealed within using mana waves.
As expected, it was not ordinary iron.
It was an alloy forged with magic, possessing high mana conductivity.
“Indeed, this is no ordinary door. Normal magic or physical force won’t work on it.”
Azazel’s assessment was the highest praise the door could receive.
It meant it would be that difficult to break through.
Ashtain looked at Leon.
“It’s sealed so tightly. Can we even get in?”
Leon answered, “This door cannot be opened with an ordinary key. It requires the magical key passed down through the royal family. Without it, they say you would only find an empty cavity.”
“A magical key?”
“Leon, you don’t have anything like that on you.”
“Correct.”
“Then it means we can’t enter. We came all this way for nothing? How anticlimactic.”
“Not necessarily.”
“What do you mean?”
“Aren’t you the current hero? There must be a way.”
“Still, we’d need to bring the key……”
“That would require many layers of approval. Time would drag on, surveillance would increase, and we wouldn’t be able to act as freely. I came here assuming a situation where you would enter without me, so please don’t get too worked up.”
A strange silence settled.
Aria spoke in a weary voice.
“Then we have to climb back up?”
It was a dreadful thought.
Even with her improved stamina, the staircase was long and monotonous.
The endless steps and unchanging scenery would exhaust both body and mind.
Hummm.
A resonant sound suddenly rang out.
They quickly located the source of the vibration.
It came from the Holy Sword hanging at Ashtain’s waist.
Isn’t it a terrible act to treat the sword as if it doesn’t exist simply because this girl does not speak?
It was the Holy Sword—Karelin.
Ashtain’s eyes widened.
“You never said a word, so I forgot.”
Didn’t I tell you to be careful with your behavior? Didn’t I tell you not to stand out?
“I did say that.”
She seemed to have built up quite a bit of resentment; her tone was full of complaint.
Of course, only Ashtain could hear her, so the rest of the party simply stared at him as if he were talking to himself.
Aria felt a pang of distress.
At this rate, Ashtain’s honor and reputation would crumble.
She spoke up on behalf of the man she loved.
“It’s a sword with its own will. It seems to be speaking to Ashtain.”
Leon and Edelis gave small nods.
If it was the Holy Sword that had existed for so long, such a thing was possible.
The party listened closely to Ashtain’s conversation—or rather, his apparent monologue.
“So even the royal key is fake?”
You doubt this girl’s words?
“Then where is the real key?”
You possess it. This girl possesses it. And she possesses it.
It sounded like a riddle.
Ashtain racked his brain desperately.
He realized Karelin was referring to the hero, the holy sword, and the saintess.
Even after understanding the meaning, his confusion only deepened.
“You’re an object, so fine, but the rest of us are human?”
Only when those with specific conditions arrive does the true door open. The key held by the royal family merely opens the path to a decoy treasure vault.
Ashtain shook his head in exasperation.
“The first hero’s companion really had nothing better to do, huh?”
My apologies.
“...Why are you apologizing?”
Because this girl created it.
“.........?”
So, shall I let you inside?
There was no need for further words.
They might as well hear what kind of truth had been hidden so secretly.
“Open it, Karelin.”
As you command.
Light burst forth from the Holy Sword.
The radiance enveloped every person present.
When the light faded, no one remained before the iron door.
Not a single soul.
