Nightmares of Nomember
Walter H. Hellhound, the Hero and the princess's lover, jolted awake from a dream where the charred corpses of Nomember Castle called out his name, begging to be saved. He barely stifled a scream as he shot upright in bed, staring blankly into the darkness with a face still etched in shock. Then, he muttered a single phrase.
"I wonder if Rose is okay..."
His first thought was for his lover, who had witnessed the same horrors amid the castle reduced to ashes by Karmic Fire. Rose was as iron-willed as her impenetrable defense, but Walter knew they both had their vulnerabilities as mere humans.
Struggling to shake off the screams that still rang in his ears like tinnitus, Walter slowly crawled out of bed. It was the eve of departure, when rest should have been paramount, but sleep felt impossible now.
He struck a match, lit the lamp, and sat at his desk, pondering whether he had taken on a position far beyond his worth. A Hero must be prepared for anything. No matter the death or atrocity, he could feel no more than pity or rage. To be gripped by terror at mere corpses, to be haunted by their demise—how could such a man dare claim the title of Hero?
"Forget it. I have to. There's no one else to lead us now."
To steady himself, Walter reached into his nightshirt and pulled out his monocle, slipping it onto his nose. The Harriet's Monocle burdened his mind considerably, often inducing fatigue, but it was equally adept at sorting his chaotic thoughts. It felt almost like an addiction, yet he couldn't stop relying on it to steel his resolve.
Sitting rigidly at the desk with wide eyes, Walter found the wait until dawn intolerably boring. The thought of lying back down conjured images of those burning bodies lunging at him, wailing for salvation. Returning to bed was out of the question.
"Manhattan Project..."
As he considered examining something to pass the time, Park Jeong-jae's ultimate weapon flashed in his mind. He unlocked the desk drawer, pulled out all the Manhattan Project scrolls, and confirmed once more with every reading that they were utterly unusable. No way to reduce the power, cut the mana cost, or coordinate with multiple mages' mana. Only Park Jeong-jae, burning his life force, could even cast it.
"But if this is truly the answer..."
Walter lit another match and set fire to all but two copies of the scrolls. They burned to ash in the Hero's hand in moments. Only the original and one duplicate remained. Gazing down at them with conflicted emotions, he let out heavy sighs.
"It's frightening. Terrifying. A future I can't see, a fate I can't comprehend—it's all so scary."
He realized his hand trembled as it clutched the scrolls. But he was probably right. His decision regarding his grand mage friend would prove correct in the end. Because it was his choice—one calculated and accepted fully.
"What are you plotting, Maou..."
As Walter gulped and stowed the two scrolls back in the drawer, a light knock sounded at his door. He glanced out the window. It was far too early for anyone to be awake. Tensing against a possible ambush, he approached slowly and gripped the handle.
"Who is it?"
"It's me. I figured you were awake."
Rose's voice. Walter relaxed and opened the door. There stood Rose Caprice in pink pajamas, looking up at him.
"What's wrong, Rose?"
"I woke up thirsty and saw light from your room. Thought something might be up, so I came to check."
Walter glanced at the window. Indeed, his lamp's glow was visible from her room.
"Nothing's wrong. We've got departure tomorrow. You should sleep."
He shrugged as he turned back to her. Rose ignored him, frowning up at his pallid face.
"Nightmare? You look awful."
"If you're not heading back, come in and talk? Standing in the hall feels off."
"Pervert."
Feigning offense but clearly pleased, Rose hopped inside. Walter returned to his desk chair, and she perched lightly on his bed. Bathed in the lamp's glow, facing each other, Rose spoke first.
"So, what was the dream?"
"I could ask you the same. No dreams tormenting you, Rose?"
Walter countered. Replying with a question wasn't polite, but Rose pondered and answered thoughtfully.
"We're at war. Countless lives we've taken, souls swirling around us. A nightmare or two? Bound to happen."
"What if it's not just one or two? What if they don't just circle me, but try to drag me down with them?"
"You dreamed of Nomember Castle."
Rose hit the mark gently. Walter nodded blankly.
"How'd you know?"
"Because you wore that exact face that day. Lost, terrified—like a scaredy-cat. Adorable. Were the ruins that frightening?"
Walter let out a wry chuckle.
"No one else could say that to me."
"Then tell me something no one else gets to hear."
Rose scooted closer. As Walter tensed, she stepped right up and pressed a light kiss to his lips.
"Tell it to the only one who knows this side of you."
"Rose..."
With trembling hands, Walter removed his monocle. Seeing her clearly before him brought no shift in his heart this time. The anxiety was gone. The phantom screams no longer echoed.
"Is it... okay for me to be afraid? This monocle, that Holy Sword, this position—they suit a man fearless, unlike me. Someone who doesn't even fear his own destruction? Is it wrong to think that way? Tell me, Rose. Can I keep going with this weak heart?"
Before answering, Rose kissed his forehead lightly. Warmth flooded Walter's body, making him shiver as if he'd just realized he'd been hypothermic.
"A man afraid of nothing," Rose said, "probably cherishes nothing. You can't value something without fearing its loss. That guy you describe? He doesn't care enough about this world. How could he outshine you as Hero?"
"Maybe the world needs that ruthlessness."
"The era of ruthless heroes is over. They can force a fractured empire together, but not lead a united one against absolute evil. Think that's why I love you?"
This time, her kiss brushed his cheek—ticklish, restrained.
"'Cause you're handsome and have the Hero title?"
"Pfft, shells like that are everywhere. You have no idea how much you underestimate me, but I could pick any empty husk."
"I'd never underestimate you, Your Imperial Highness."
"Hilarious. You act like the world is beneath you sometimes."
"Even if I did rule the world," Walter ground out, "I'd never look down on you. Without you... if you hadn't chosen me..."
"I love you because you know how to love everything worthy of it."
Rose pulled him into a deep embrace. The soft warmth through her thin pajamas stole his breath.
"I didn't know why I had to protect this empire—just duty as princess and my iron wall's blessing. You taught me 'protect what you love.' The more time with you, the more I cherish this land. The more I fear losing what's in my grasp."
She loosened her arms, releasing him. Walter gazed up at her, flushed and dazed.
"Thank you for teaching me fear. For making me better. I'm glad you're the man who unites us with sincerity, not just wisdom. No one thinks we follow you only for that monocle's calculations, right?"
"I'm... the one who's grateful, Rose."
His heart steadier now—perhaps excitedly unsteady—he hid his embarrassment. Rose flashed her usual teasing grin, sticking out her tongue.
"Act this cute all the time, and I'll spoil you rotten. Why make me mad instead?"
"You said show you my hidden side."
"Seriously. If words fail..."
Unable to resist, Rose kissed him deeply again—as if to silence him. Tongues intertwined briefly before they pulled back, flushed faces inches apart, eyes locked.
"You really... are captivating."
Walter breathed. Rose cheekily stuck out the tongue that had just met his, smirking.
"Think you can sleep now? Dawn departure, remember."
"At least the ghosts won't haunt my dreams anymore."
Satisfied, Rose pondered, then offered a seductive glint.
"If spirits still keep you up, sleep with me tonight? I'll sing you a lullaby."
The phantoms held no sway now, but Walter nodded entranced, accepting. They lay together in bed, gazing at each other, and simply slept. Truly, just slept. Rest was essential for tomorrow's march.