The Real Thing Is Much Prettier

The real thing is much prettier.

"Where… are you going this time?"

Elara's face was an even mix of curiosity and unease. Those strangely moist eyes only made her look more anxious still. Perhaps the tender heat from when she had treated my hand at the meal table had yet to cool. Her cheeks remained flushed, and the gaze she fixed on me was sticky with intensity.

I rose from my seat with a deliberately leisurely smile.

"Let's take a walk to help with digestion. It's still broad daylight, isn't it?"

"…What?"

Still daytime. Night was a long way off. I wanted her mind fully recovered as soon as possible. Of course, I wasn't expecting it to happen easily or overnight…

She tilted her head, but I offered no further explanation. I simply took the lead.

We left the restaurant and climbed back into the carriage. Another short ride.

Elara rested her head lightly against my shoulder. The weight was different from when we had gone to the windmill hill. If that had been clinging in anxiety, this was closer to a languid cat fully entrusting her body to me.

Her fingers carefully stroked the bandage wrapped around my right hand.

"…Don't get hurt."

She whispered as if murmuring to herself.

"…Really. Don't get hurt."

Half worry, half pout. I chuckled and brushed her disheveled hair back into place.

"Don't worry."

But as the carriage drew nearer its destination, I felt the body against my shoulder subtly stiffen. The noise from outside was growing louder.

Waaaaah—!

The murmur of crowds, the cheerful strains of instruments, and fervent shouts as if praising someone.

"…We've arrived."

The carriage had stopped at the heart of the village—the central plaza.

"…Ah."

Elara flinched with a short gasp. She instinctively pressed herself behind my back. The way she clutched my clothes as if begging me to hide her from the world was pitiful.

"Teacher… this place…?"

"Let's go."

I took her hand firmly and pointed toward the center of the plaza. There, surrounded by throngs of people, a massive marble statue stood with oppressive presence.

Elara's gaze locked onto a single point as she stepped down from the carriage.

The center of the plaza. Encircled by countless onlookers, a giant marble statue loomed.

The Hero Party's Monument.

Lillian the mage, staff in hand. The archer with his bow. The man with daggers. The saint praying with benevolent grace. And… Elara's stone likeness, sword raised in valiant pose.

Looking at it like that, they really do seem righteous…

The reality was anything but, which made it all the more absurd. Especially after watching those children play Hero Party earlier. Even the kids knew—the image of the ruffians who tormented the villagers was pure villainy itself.

Yet the statue they had erected was the picture of justice. Especially now, with the real Elara beside me hiding behind her veil, while the stone Elara looked down upon the people with the purest, bravest expression in the world.

— Zzzzt. Zzt.

That unpleasant noise scraped at my ears again.

"…Disgusting."

A low curse, almost a moan, slipped from Elara's lips. She was glaring at her own statue.

People were offering flowers at its base, tossing coins, making wishes.

"Hero, please heal my child's illness."

"Hero, please make this year's harvest good."

I'd heard this was one of the star tourist attractions. The locals who actually lived here might spit on the statue—but the tourists who knew nothing were praying like that.

The more their earnest prayers reached her, the paler Elara's face became.

"Those people… don't know."

She muttered in a trembling voice. The grip on my hand tightened until cold sweat seeped through.

"How ugly we are, hiding behind that statue. How many people we crushed to stand up there…"

Hatred and impulse. She looked up at the statue and clenched her fist. Veins stood out starkly on the back of her white hand.

"On the platform, we waved and bestowed blessings—but the moment we stepped down, it was…"

She looked up at me. Eyes that both wished to be despised and feared being despised—contradictory.

"'Ugh, those stinking things make me sick.' …And then we'd scrub the hands that had touched them raw."

A bit much, yeah…

Certainly, the idea that the Hero Party was unconditionally righteous was a fallacy. In this world at least, the Hero Party were villains worse than anyone—terrifying demonkin. Elara knew that all too well, which made her hate herself even more.

"That… is a lie. Just… an empty shell."

Elara bowed her veiled head deeply. The people's faith in her was piercing her like sharp daggers instead.

Now.

I stood beside her with my hand in my pocket.

"You're right. An empty shell."

"……"

I sighed and let out a low laugh.

"The sculptor really was talentless. He didn't capture a single bit of your true self."

At my words, Elara lifted her head to look at me. I pointed at the massive stone statue with my chin.

"Elara. Let me ask you one thing."

"……?"

"Is that lump of rock you?"

"…What?"

"That thing standing there smiling, knowing no pain and no guilt… is it the same being as the you who's hurting, crying, and bleeding right here beside me?"

"That's…"

"No."

I cut her off firmly.

"That's nothing but an illusion people created. The gray or black you hate—do they call that hypocrisy? It's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hypocrisy itself."

I raised my bandaged right hand and very gently lifted her veil—just enough for only her to see. Her blue eyes fixed solely on me.

"But what about the you standing before ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠me right now?"

"…Teacher."

"You know how to be ashamed of your sins, and so you suffer—and you didn't run. You came all the way here."

I smiled gently.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"A lump of rock doesn't reflect. But a person does."

"……!"

"So there's no need to feel disgusted looking at that fake. The real one is right here, holding my hand."

Elara's eyes widened. As she blankly looked between the statue and me, the chaotic noise in her gaze gradually subsided.

She looked up at the giant statue once more.

"…A fake."

She murmured softly.

"Yes. That isn't me."

Elara clenched my clothes tightly, then let go. Her voice trembled, but her eyes were clearly fixed on me.

"I'm… right here. Beside you, Teacher."

"Confirmed. Then we don't need that, do we?"

"Yes…?"

Before Elara could even ask back, I pulled out the item I'd bought from the point shop.

Because of this, my remaining points were 2,500 PT. But with this item alone, Elara's PTSD might be overcome.

When Gogumador the gallery user had marked the coordinates—that statue. I'd prepared this thinking that destroying it might somehow shatter her favorability and PTSD further.

I grinned at Elara.

"Watch closely. I'll show you some magic."

"…Teacher? What are you—"

I conspicuously slipped on the leather glove and strolled leisurely toward the statue. People had their eyes closed in prayer or were bowing their heads to the ground. Perfect timing.

Without hesitation, I flicked my finger against the forehead of that cold lump of rock shaped like Elara—as if giving it a light flick.

Tack—.

Right after the light friction sound.

— Rumble rumble rumble!

"…Huh?"

The crack that started from the statue's forehead spread through its entire body in an instant. The stone, fracturing like a spiderweb, collapsed with a roar before Elara could even scream.

KRRRRRUMBLE—

CRASH!!

Dust billowed up, and the elegantly standing fake Hero Party statue was reduced to a pile of rubble in moments.

"Kyaaah! I-it collapsed!"

"Th-the Hero Party statue?!"

"What on earth is going on!"

"That young man was just here…!?"

Silence for one second. Then chaos.

Villagers began searching for me with bloodshot eyes. The sharp whistle of the guards stabbed my ears.

— Wheeeee!!

I grabbed the wrist of Elara, who was standing there with her mouth hanging open.

"Run!"

"T-Teacher?! What in the world did you just—!"

"You said you'd be my accomplice!"

"A-accomplice?! Wh-who said that!?"

I dragged the stunned her into the crowd. With our gentleman's hats pulled low, we ran like mad.

A sprint that felt like my heart would burst. Curses and shouts rained from behind, but the warmth of our joined palms was hot.

How long did we run? After turning through the maze-like alleys several times, we stopped behind a dilapidated warehouse in a deserted spot.

"Haa, haa… huff…"

Elara gasped for breath, hands on her knees. Disheveled hair, flushed cheeks. She looked up at me with eyes that couldn't believe what had happened.

"Teacher, haa… are you… actually insane?"

"Why? Doesn't it feel refreshing?"

I casually straightened my rumpled clothes and shrugged.

"I just touched the statue and it collapsed with a crash. The prayers must have been so earnest that the heavens were moved."

"Liar…"

"Haha, it's true, I swear."

At my shameless answer, Elara shut her mouth as if speechless. But there was no longer any shadow of the past in those eyes. Instead, the excitement of this absurd escapade we'd committed together remained.

Then, a "pfft" escaped her lips.

"Puhahaha…!"

It was truly the laugh of a tomboyish girl.

"We really… did something incredible. Do you know what we've done?"

"I know."

I stared intently at Elara's smiling face. In the place where the lump of rock had fallen, here was the real one—so vividly alive.

"That statue was really carved ugly, you know."

I reached out, brushed the hair stuck to her cheek, and tossed out casually:

"The real thing is much prettier."

"……!"

Elara's laughter cut off abruptly. The face that had been red from running just now flushed for an entirely different reason.

Oh. As expected, women are weak to praise and a good hit.

"…Well, today's course ends here. Moving around more today could be dangerous, so let's head back. Don't forget we have a counseling session this evening."

I smiled brightly and placed my hand on top of her head.

Pitch-black night. Moonlight seeping through the window coldly illuminated the finest marble floor.

"Kwahahahaha!"

A mad laugh shattered the silence, filling the room.

It was Kurast, the archer of the Hero's Party. He sat cockeyed on the sofa, looking down at the guards and snickering.

"What? Our statue collapsed?"

"Y-yes, sir! There are signs someone deliberately destroyed it…!"

"Nah, no way."

Kurast rose like a snake uncoiling. Still smiling, he placed a hand on the guard's shoulder.

"Those dog-pigs who went crazy worshipping us—you think they have the guts for that? Right, kids?"

The grip of his hand made the guard's shoulder bone crack. As the guard swallowed a scream and trembled, a gentle voice drifted from the darkness.

"Foolish lambs. How truly pitiful…"

Saint Lidia. She swept her gaze over the guards with an elegant sign of the cross. Her eyes held only horrific contempt instead of mercy.

"To dare mar the forms of the saviors. This makes me… completely lose the desire to save humanity, you know?"

"……!"

"We'll need the iron rod of God. For incompetent eyes like those, plucking them out would be mercy, wouldn't it?"

A curse hard to believe coming from a saint's mouth. As the guards turned ashen and backed away—

Whoooo—.

A pungent yet sweet smoke dispersed into the air.

Lillian, with a long pipe in her mouth, parted her red lips and asked as if annoyed.

"Noisy. So, the culprit?"

"Th-that is…! A man in a gentleman's hat and a… a woman!"

"Description."

"The man wore a white shirt with a distinctive buckle, and the woman… s-silver hair."

Tap, tap. Lillian lightly tapped her pipe against the ashtray. That simple sound rang as heavy as a judge's gavel.

"Silver hair, huh."

She crossed her legs and propped her chin.

"I know who it is."

"What?"

"Get out. Out of my sight."

"Y-yes!!"

As the guards fled through the door, heavy silence settled over the room again.

"Obvious. That crazy doctor and our poor little ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠dropout Miss Elara's handiwork."

Lillian smirked and exhaled smoke.

"Look at this. They're openly declaring war on us now?"

"Heh heh, real guts. We might've let them live if they just breathed quietly."

Kurast pulled out a dagger and twirled it between his fingers with a vicious smile.

Then the large man leaning against the window, silently watching outside—Gaila—spoke for the first time.

"…The new Hero candidate."

"Ah, that?"

Lillian put the pipe back in her mouth and nodded toward Gaila.

"We've finished screening. Hired one idiot who listens well to us."

"Then good."

Kurast slammed his dagger into the table with a bang!

"I was getting bored. Let's wrap this up soon."

"Of course. The spies we sent and the butler bastards all failed, right?"

Lillian's eyes narrowed coldly. Things they'd thought were mere toys had become rather annoying thorns.

"For beasts that don't listen to words, the whip is the only medicine."

"This time we'll finish it ourselves. Thoroughly. Pathetically."

In the darkness, the four heroes smiled at each other. That smile was more wicked—and denser—than the Demon King's.