Gifts, and the Ring.
The war was over.
There had been sacrifices, of course.
But in the end, everyone returned home safely.
The world had claimed victory.
A fitting end to the epic saga of the great hero.
One she could proudly boast about, without tarnishing his name.
The hero who couldn't even draw the holy sword had somehow brought peace and safety to the world.
And the world welcomed a new era of tranquility.
And today.
Was the day she would go to meet him.
Her master.
Her knight.
Her first love.
That man.
...
He wasn't there.
She had expected him to be the first to greet them, but there was no sign of him anywhere.
"...After saying all those harsh things, I guess we'll have to look for him ourselves."
The Sword Empress spoke with a face steeped in guilt, and Amelia nodded.
They had exiled him. Driven him away.
Just out of worry—if they hadn't, he would have stayed here no matter what.
So the entire party had hurled cruel words at him.
At eighteen, she had believed it was the right thing to do.
Back then, she thought they had to hurt him to push him away.
He cherished her too much, and she could feel it.
He would have protected her even if it killed him.
He had already sacrificed for her countless times.
That was the kind of man he was. She knew it all too well.
So, swallowing bloody tears, she had wounded him.
She had spat out that their master-disciple bond ended here.
She had personally shattered every promise they had made.
She said it with the resolve that, after saving the world—after succeeding in everything and returning—she might one day be forgiven.
The hero's party searched for him high and low.
A knight of his skill wasn't common, and he didn't hide his identity, so tracking his steps was easy.
He had headed to the war-torn Southern Front.
The Southern Front was little more than abandoned land.
The nobles and the empire paid it no mind.
Supplies were always scarce, and manpower woefully inadequate.
Even as people died to the war-spawned magical beasts, nothing changed.
It was so very like him to go to a forsaken place like that—the words slipped out on their own.
She was even glad.
He hadn't just waited endlessly; he had moved. That meant there was a chance to see him again.
A chance to apologize for the harsh words and banishment of the past.
A chance to atone to her knight.
...A chance to reclaim that happiness.
...
Soon enough, following his trail, they reached the edge of the Southern Front.
"...."
And the moment they arrived at his supposed residence, something felt off.
The mansion that had been his home was covered in dust, as if no one had lived there in ages.
The knight order. The cathedral.
Her master was nowhere to be found.
The Sword Empress shrugged and spoke.
"...No helping it. We'll have to ask around here directly."
"The tavern... it's been a while."
In a small village like this, checking the tavern covered half the ground.
As she pushed open the door, the smell of alcohol and laughter poured out.
She scanned the room, then headed to the counter.
"Looking for someone."
She rolled a few coins across the table and continued.
"A black-haired man who came to the village recently. Seen him?"
"———."
She figured they'd find him quickly here.
No reason to feel uneasy. She'd meet him soon.
Apologize properly.
That's how it should have been.
.
..
...
....
The tavern fell silent at her words.
Hands holding tankards froze mid-air.
The laughter cut off.
No one looked at her.
The boisterous noise from moments ago had vanished.
The owner silently wiped a glass.
Only after a long pause did he speak.
"You're too late, miss."
No one met anyone's eyes.
Instead, gazes drifted to the worn sword on the wall and the wilted bouquet beneath it.
And the silence that followed said more than words ever could.
The hero kept her composure.
Or tried to.
"......."
Until the unbelievable words dropped in the tavern.
-In the final battle,
She couldn't comprehend it.
Or rather, she refused to.
-...he fell.
Her lips parted, closed, parted again.
But no words came.
Her fingers clutching the coins trembled.
Raw emotion radiated from the hero, plain for all to see.
She stared blankly around the room,
Then shoved through the crowd and bolted out.
"...Hero?!"
It happened in an instant.
What had happened to that man?
Her companions hurried after her.
What did that reaction mean?
She burst through the door and raced across the street.
He's fine.
No way.
He's not gone.
He has to be okay.
I haven't even apologized yet.
'I need his forgiveness.'
I'm sorry. Forgive me. I have to say it.
It was all for your sake. I want to tell him.
She had no time for ragged breaths or the stares of onlookers.
It couldn't be true.
He was stronger than anyone, not the type to fall easily.
He had to be alive somewhere.
She berated herself as she ran—who knew how long.
Her heart, unmoved even before hundreds of enemies, now pounded fiercely.
And in that moment, a thought flashed through the hero's mind.
What if—just what if—
She could never see him again.
-Thud.
She knew her own mistakes.
Her poor way with words, resorting to such methods.
The deep emotional scars she must have left on him.
So she was afraid.
Afraid he'd leave before she could heal those wounds.
Afraid their bond would end without clearing the misunderstanding.
...Terrified by the reality that she might never see him again.
That instant.
"..."
The hero stopped.
She had no choice.
Her momentum vanished like a lie.
The reality she refused to believe stood before her.
".....................Ah."
In the square, laid upon wildflowers.
A single corpse.
She clapped a hand over her mouth.
A familiar face.
One she'd seen countless times.
A face she'd never even imagined she'd lose.
So familiar, that man's face.
Yet his appearance had changed so much from three years ago.
The passage of time had altered him, but more than that, the deep, small gashes and scars covering him from the neck down.
He looked nothing like the man she'd first met.
Wounds slashed and torn hundreds of times, healed over and over.
The sight of him throwing himself into battle, staking his life every day.
Why so many injuries?
What on earth had happened all this time?
"..."
Realization dawned, and tears welled in her eyes.
Why?
Until it came to this.
Without a single word left behind.
"....You.."
A voice leaked from her lips.
"...Why—"
But it wouldn't continue.
She couldn't grasp what to say in this situation.
Sentences and words that had always flowed naturally now refused to form.
Her mind felt broken.
Her legs buckled. Her head throbbed. Her heart raced madly.
Emotions surged up her throat.
"...Why, why...! Alone, all alone... everything!"
Like a madwoman, she shook his clothes roughly. But only the heavy silence of his cold, stiffened body answered.
Her blue eyes lost focus, wandering the air. Her blurring vision now faded to black.
Sobbing, she pulled his body into her arms. Bloodstained clothes and hands tangled, indistinguishable whose was whose.
Dead?
What did that even mean?
It felt like a gaping hole had been punched through her chest.
She couldn't breathe.
She'd thought he was living well.
What did it mean, dying here protecting people?
"...."
Suddenly, the knights' words from this place flashed through her mind.
"Everyone only cared about the top frontlines... We never dreamed you'd send someone like him."
"We thought you'd abandoned this place for good..."
"You're the hero's party, right? Why would he come alone to a backwater like this..."
The puzzle pieces she couldn't understand fell into place.
Why he had died to mere beasts.
"...When they diverted support to the hero's party at the forefront, we wondered what would happen."
"....Ah."
"In the end, supplies dried up..."
"But thanks to him staying till the very end, we survived."
"....Aaaah!!"
Even the reason he fought alone.
The reason he had to come here by himself...
In that moment, the hands shaking his clothes covered her face. Tears spilled between her fingers.
"....I... I drove you away...."
To the very end.
Everything was because of her.
///
A week after the knight's death.
The inn door creaked open slowly.
Ding-a-ling.
The bell above hung limply, its chime weak.
Late afternoon. A few patrons nursing drinks glanced over casually—and couldn't look away.
Something was off about the woman at the door.
The innkeeper froze, speechless.
Her hands and hair were caked in blood.
Her clothes smeared with dirt and grime.
Her red, bloodshot eyes poorly concealed, swollen lids.
She must have stopped crying some time ago.
But the puffiness and ragged breaths told how much she'd wept through the night.
It was obvious at a glance.
She hadn't slept a wink.
And most of that time, she'd spent crying.
Seeming oblivious to the stares, she asked immediately.
Her voice cracked faintly.
"..."
She cleared her throat hastily.
Just to get out one sentence.
"The room he stayed in."
A raspy voice.
Her hand fumbled in her bosom.
A worn letter emerged.
Its edges frayed from repeated unfolding.
Clutching it to her chest, she asked.
"...Is his room still here?"
Even after asking, the hero couldn't lift her head.
Like someone terrified of the answer.
No need to ask why she sought the room.
It was the face of someone come to meet another.
While waiting for a reply, she gripped the letter tight.
As if letting go would sever the last thread connecting her to him.
The innkeeper hesitated, then nodded.
Moments later.
She stood before a weathered door.
She hesitated long, as if even reaching out terrified her, before turning the knob.
Click.
An empty room revealed itself.
Of course it was.
The owner had left long ago.
Yet she couldn't step in easily.
As if crossing the threshold would truly end everything.
Finally, she entered slowly.
The room held nothing.
No bed.
No table.
No windowsill.
Everything as it should be.
Except the one person who should have been there.
With trembling hand, she brushed the table.
Dust clung to her fingers.
Traces of him were mostly gone.
Yet oddly, a familiar drawer caught her eye.
She opened it, without expectation.
And in that instant.
Her fingers froze.
A few crumpled sheets of paper.
One old envelope.
She snatched them up like buried treasure.
Unfolding a paper with shaking hands revealed familiar handwriting.
"....Ugh."
Her breath caught.
She already knew.
These papers wouldn't bring him back.
Yet she couldn't tear her eyes away.
They were his last remaining traces.
She sank to the floor before them.
Picked up a fallen letter.
Envelopes piled with dust on the desk.
Money he'd earned as a knight, meant for somewhere.
The first envelope.
A hefty 50 silver by his salary standards. The address:
To: Amelia
"...This much... to me, why.....?"
The words "reason to send" died as her breath hitched.
A familiar date at the letter's end.
No way. No way...
-Rustle rustle..
Dazed, she flipped to the next envelope.
This time, 50 silver for restoring the world tree she'd wrecked.
"....."
Her hand trembled on the paper. It crumpled.
No, it can't be. She repeated inwardly.
Tore open the remaining envelope.
Receipts for pancakes, parfaits, macarons—desserts he wouldn't touch.
......From that day, the plates she'd smashed when driving him away.
All of them. The precious ones she'd said she loved.
-Gifts.
"Ugh....Uuugh...."
A groan tore from her throat.
Vivid memories of that day surged.
Tears leaked. Warm blood dripped from her clenched fist.
Clutching final hope, she pulled out the last letter. It looked oldest, carefully preserved. As if prepared long ago.
Ink had faded completely, contents illegible.
But she stared at the paper.
More precisely, the erased writing, thinly scratched out.
She knew his precise, straight-lined script.
Even in a short note for her... he had agonized.
But this one was different.
Starts connected, then ink pools in circles from long pressure. All his letters showed it.
What had he struggled so to write?
At the end, faint but readable words.
1 year since Hero left.
How the sent money was used:
50 silver - Money for Hero's new glove gift.
25 silver - Donation to Hero's party.
10 silver - Money to buy Hero something tasty when she returns.
100 gold - Gift for Hero's coming-of-age ceremony!
And.
Clink.
A silver ring fell from the paper.
"..................Ah."
-Hero birthday D-167
-Hero second award ceremony commemoration D-98
-To Hero, ring....-
The back listed her moods, states, favorite foods, birthday wishes.
And.
D-365 My birthday.
The day she declared severance was the knight's birthday.
"Ah...."
"Aaaaaaaaah..................!!!!"