The Traitors' Excuses

The moment the Pattak conscription notice arrived, I accepted without a second thought.

Drawing on years of accumulated gallery experience, I set about purifying the panicking gallery one post at a time—reading, deleting, and blocking in a relentless cycle. Their disgusting images never so much as scratched my psyche. Bit by bit, I wiped out the Buntang trying to tear the Witch Trial Gallery apart.

Once the chaos settled, the Juttak offered me a permanent Pattak position.

A little later, the Pattak appointment notice arrived.

I was furious that he was abusing the sacred authority of the gallery like this—but I decided to just take the ban. Going up against a power-tripping mod was more trouble than it was worth.

In the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠middle of all that, a post went up titled Hit recommend if you want to promote Jungbung-i to Pattak, and within moments it racked up hundreds of upvotes in a spectacular show of force.

Still not doing it, though.

Why the hell would anyone take on unpaid labor like that in the first place? Messing around on the gallery, posting garbage for fun, and spending all day policing the place while collecting and dumping trash as a badge-wearing mod were completely different animals.

More than anything, not a single gallery mod I'd ever seen on the internet had been mentally sound. Honestly, if you were in your right mind, you wouldn't do the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠job at all.

With a track record like that, Jangbung-i the Juttak had been eyeing me as his personal Pattak slave for a long time. The thirty-day ban he'd slapped on me this time was just another extension of that obsessive pursuit.

But that's not what matters right now.

I didn't hold much of a grudge over the Juttak's thirty-day ban. If anything, it had been a good opportunity—time to empty my head and plan what came next. Soon, when midnight hit, the shackles of being a Hero that had bound me would finally come undone.

I quietly closed my eyes and looked back over the journey I had walked as a Hero.

It had already been several hundred days since the Witch Trial Gallery first appeared before my eyes. After being betrayed by the people I had trusted as comrades, I was locked in a prison and subjected to brutal torture and interrogation. Around the hundredth day of that confinement was when it happened.

As a Hero summoned to another world, I received a system correction that no one else had. Like a game, I could check the quests I needed to complete and review my current status—it was incredibly useful. This system window seemed to apply to me independently of the Goddess who had summoned me and then vanished. I didn't know the details, so I couldn't explain further.

In the early days, I was welcomed with open arms as a Hero. Together with the elite comrades selected by the kingdom, I went from victory to victory, subjugating the Demon King's army commanders who lurked across the land.

I believed that in the not-too-distant future I would successfully slay the Demon King and return to Earth. I even entertained sweet fantasies of flexing after winning the lottery jackpot with the future prediction the Goddess had offered as a reward.

But… all of it got flushed down the toilet in a single instant.

I didn't know it at the time. The true enemy of this land, Pangellia, wasn't the Demon King's army I had risked my life fighting—it was somewhere completely unexpected. The entrenched powers bleeding the people dry from within. Those were the real monsters of this country.

They feared that once the war ended, I—the idol of the common folk—would seize enormous power. They simply didn't believe me when I said I would go back to Earth. So they wove an elaborate script and branded me a "heretic Hero" and a spy for the Demon King. Even more horrific was that the holy sword meant to prove my innocence lost its light through their schemes.

"If you're a real Hero, why won't the holy sword shine for you?"

"This fraud! The real Hero is already dead, and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠this thing is a monster wearing his skin!"

Day and night, the torture never stopped. They forced me to sign a fabricated confession.

"What I have to say is… go fuck yourself, you pieces of shit."

The venom I spat only brought me even more terrible pain. But what tore me apart far worse than the physical agony was something else entirely—the betrayal by the women I had shared life and death with as comrades.

The first was the red-haired knight, Erenhart.

"Do you not realize that your arrogant behavior only breeds more conflict and discord?"

Standing beyond the iron bars, Erenhart glared at me as if scolding a child.

"You came all the way here just to say that?"

I spat a mouthful of blood-tinged saliva toward him and asked. Erenhart didn't so much as twitch an eyebrow as he shot back.

"The people are exhausted from the long war. What they truly want is peace and stability—not your reckless sense of justice."

A dry laugh burst out of me at that brazen, shameless lecture. Reckless? Sense of justice?

"How many people do you think died because of your family's embezzlement of military supplies?"

It was still vivid before my eyes—the soldiers forced to face the enemy with ruined weapons and gear because proper supplies never arrived. The wounded biting down on their own lips to suppress the pain because medicine was scarce. She had seen all of it with me, and now she was calling it recklessness.

"Hoarding your own warehouses even in wartime, looking after yourselves ahead of your own allies' supplies—is that the noble knighthood you never shut up about, Erenhart?!"

Erenhart's face twisted. For a moment—just a brief moment—clear turmoil flickered in her eyes.

"…So what, are you saying I should have turned my sword on my own family?"

Her voice had sunk low.

"I know the justice you're talking about is right. But the world isn't that simple. I have a family. A father, a mother, brothers and sisters. They may look like corrupt scum to you, but to me they are family I love more than anything."

"Family?"

A scoff escaped me.

"The people who died because of you were someone's precious family too."

Erenhart bit her lip slightly.

"I thought… you of all people might understand."

"Understand what? Your family's crimes? That I should join in?"

"…No matter what I say, it won't reach you, will it."

Erenhart turned her head and averted her gaze. Before she took her leave, she added one last thing.

"This world can never be filled with righteous things. It was always filthy and vile to begin with."

Her footsteps faded into the distance.

The next to visit was the green-haired striker, Cerise. She seemed shaken by the haggard wreck of a man she found in the cell. She just stood there staring in silence, so I spoke first.

"You didn't come here just to gawk. Spit out whatever business you have."

"…You've gotten cold."

"Yeah. Thanks to all of you."

Cerise's expression stiffened for a moment, as if the words had hit a nerve.

"I'm not going to say I'm sorry."

"I never expected to hear it at this point anyway."

"I know what kind of ideals you hold. I know what you saw and what made you so angry. That's… exactly why it can't work."

Cerise carefully ran her fingers along the iron bars.

"You never looked like someone who would stop. Once you draw your blade, you have to cut everything down to the root or you can't rest. By your standards, our family was always going to be a blight that needed to be purged someday."

Hearing that, I couldn't sit still—my throat itched with the urge to speak.

"So everything is my fault for trying to dig up the truth?"

"Think whatever you want. I just wish I'd realized sooner that we'd end up on opposite sides like this…"

Erenhart was the same, and this one—Cerise—was no different. How could they be so selfish after watching people all over this land suffer?

"You were there too! You saw the people suffering with your own eyes! Your family monopolized the goods, controlled the market, manipulated prices, and drove commoners into the streets!"

I screamed as if coughing up blood.

"Was every moment of you clutching your chest in pain over the starving people a lie? All just an act? Because it was your own family doing it, you could just look the other way?"

"Just as I can't understand you, you won't be able to understand me either."

Cerise continued calmly, unmoved by my fury. Her eyes held something like pity, layered with torment.

"We'll finish off the Demon King. So for now, just rest here."

"Rest?"

I clenched the bars harder.

"You're calling this resting?"

Cerise left without another word.

The third to come was the silver-haired mage, Lunea. She was the same as always—looking at me with that impassive expression, no different from usual. And yet somehow she felt colder, more frigid than ever.

"If you didn't expect things to turn out this way, then you were a fool."

"I… wasn't wrong."

I had believed it was my duty to root out the kingdom's corruption and cut away its rot for the sake of the people. If not me, the Hero—then who? No one else took their side. No one else listened to their voices. So I had to do it.

"Wasn't wrong, you say…"

Lunea murmured softly. Her silver eyes glinted coldly.

"You still don't understand reality."

"I think I understand it well enough."

"This world doesn't affirm everything just because it's right. Power, justification, compromise, order—all of it is necessary. But you ignored every one of those steps and tried to overturn everything from the start."

I ground my teeth.

"So when those rotten bastards pull their shit, you just sit there and watch? Even while people are dying?"

"That's the way of this world."

Lunea's answer was cruelly matter-of-fact.

"The powerless get trampled and die. The world has always turned that way, then and now."

"So shut up and just watch, is that it?"

"I warned you so many times not to step forward."

A thread of emotion directed at me began to seep into her dry tone.

"You should have just stayed quiet. People may lift you up as a Hero, but they turn on you just as fast. Has anyone fought for your innocence?"

Lunea's gaze swept over my bloodied body.

"In the end, others are just others—nothing more, nothing less. Just because you bled for them doesn't guarantee they'll do the same for you."

"I did it because I wanted to, and I have no regrets about it."

It wasn't something I did for recognition. My own conscience moved me. I simply couldn't look away, so I stepped up.

Lunea stared at me in silence for a long while. Then she let out a short laugh.

"I don't know if it's because you're a Hero down to the bone, or because you want so badly to believe you're acting like one."

"What's that supposed to mean."

"You always said the same thing. That someone has to step up for the people. That you can't turn away from the powerless."

Lunea's silver pupils fixed on me.

"But sometimes I wondered. Did you really want to save them? Or did you want to be the one who saves them?"

"Stop dancing around it and say what you came to say."

"You were definitely good and brave, I'll give you that."

Lunea continued evenly.

"But wanting to be a good person is still a desire. Clinging to remaining a righteous Hero is still an obsession."

"I was wondering what garbage you were spouting, and you came all this way to dress up some bullshit philosophy?"

"Bull…shit philosophy…?"

Lunea looked somewhat flustered, as if hearing the expression for the first time. She quickly smoothed her face back into composure.

"…There is an old rule that has been passed down. The monster that harms people is slain by the hero. And that hero is then slain by the people in turn."

"So what the hell am I supposed to do with that?"

"What?"

"I thought this fucking bitch was about to drop some profound truth."

"Fu… fucking bitch…?"

At my words, Lunea's eyes flew wide with shame and shock. Her silver pupils shook violently, as if an earthquake had hit them.

"Yeah, you fucking bitch. Why is your tongue so long? Then why did you betray me and pile on? Your family was gouging the prices of magic materials and magic items, sucking the commoners dry, and when I caught you, you buried me so you wouldn't get fucked, didn't you."

"……."

"You should be reflecting, but instead you keep blaming me to the bitter end—calling me a fool, saying I'm obsessed with being a Hero. You threw out even the basic moral code any human should keep, and in the end it's nothing but ugly self-justification from start to finish."

"I… I never meant to…"

"Get the fuck out, you bitch. Before I cave your face in."

Lunea's face went scarlet with humiliation and rage, and she swept away from the cell as if driven by a storm. Between her retreating footsteps, her voice came back like she was spitting the words.

"You bastard. Just try coming back."

"I can hear you, you fucking bitch. Don't come. You stink."

The last to visit was the blonde priestess, Ophilen. Looking at my gaunt, wasted form in the prison, she shed fat tears that welled up and spilled over.

"How… how could it be this terrible…"

Listening to her theatrical sobs from beyond the bars made my insides twist so hard they felt like they were rotting. Without meaning to, I snapped at her.

"What are you crying for? Feeling a little guilt now that it's come to this?"

"I… I'm so sorry……."

"Sorry for what."

"For not standing by your side, Hero… For failing to help you until things reached this point."

I couldn't even manage a hollow laugh. To me, it only sounded like a disgusting excuse from a perpetrator who wanted to lightly offload her guilt and remain a good person in her own eyes. And that was exactly what it was. She hadn't lifted a single finger to save me—she had joined the others in condemning me just the same.

"You must resent me, don't you?"

This fucking bitch asking something so obvious left me too speechless to answer. However she interpreted my silence, she began speaking in a low, tearful voice.

"But…… if Erenhart, Cerise, and Lunea all think that way, then I believe their judgment can't be wrong."

Hearing this woman's revolting excuses made irritation surge all the way to the top of my skull until I thought I would lose my mind.

"Ah, so that's why you stabbed me in the back just like those sons of bitches. You filthy traitor."

"Be… betrayal? I never acted with any such intention."

"Don't give me that bullshit! Everything you did treated me as an enemy. Even now you're suppressing my power as a Hero with your holy energy."

"That's… because I don't know what you might do."

"So you don't trust me, then."

My voice dropped to a cold chill.

"You fucking bitch."

Ophilen sucked in a breath.

"F-fucking bitch… that's too much."

"You crazy bitch. Looking at me like this and that's what you say? You pout and bawl that it's unfair the second you feel a little slighted—can you not see what I look like locked in this prison because of you lot? Are you blind?"

Ophilen couldn't answer. I didn't want to waste any more emotion on this garbage, but I still raised my voice and shouted at her, veins standing out on my neck.

"You knew something was wrong in that empty head of yours! You felt that this wasn't something a human should do! And yet in the end you just shut off your brain and mindlessly follow the power of Lunea, Cerise, and Erenhart? Don't you know their families wrecked the supply lines during the war so that innocent commoners were the ones constantly bleeding and dying? You saw it all at the scene too!"

"Th… that's not really my area of expertise……."

"You fucking bitch! Did you see it or not? Just answer that!"

Ophilen couldn't reply, but the silence made her answer clear enough.

"You saw it with your own eyes. That's why you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠can't say a word. Fuck! Those scenes! Is that how a Saintess who follows and believes in the Goddess's will is supposed to act—so irresponsibly?"

"I… I never even wanted to become the Saintess."

Wow. This fucking bitch was going to give me a stroke.

"Then why didn't you resign as Saintess ages ago instead of pulling this shit now, you fucking bitch."

"Hero……"

She looked at me with teary eyes, as if asking how I could be so cruel to her. But you know what? What I really wanted was to drive my fist straight into that face.

That was when a soldier quietly approached from a distance. He bowed his head to Ophilen and carefully informed her that visiting hours were over. For just a moment, Ophilen wore a faint look of relief.

"Feels good having an excuse to escape now, doesn't it?"

"…Th-that's not it. Time's just up… A-anyway, I'll come again next time."

"Don't. It's fucking disgusting."

Ophilen teared up with a pitiful expression, as if she had been deeply wounded.

"Hero."

They didn't spare a thought for framing me and throwing me in prison, yet the second they got cursed at once they put on the airs of a tragic heroine. It was so revolting it almost brought tears to my eyes.

"Hero? Don't call me by that fake-ass title. It's disgusting, so shut that mouth of yours and get the hell out of my sight."