Chapter 3
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: The Red Truth
-----------------------------------------------------------------
No matter how early she woke up in the morning, her senior apprentice was always already out in the training grounds, swinging his sword.
Adel Chris.
He was the man others called the Hero, but to her, he was simply a fellow disciple under the same master.
Isabella tried waking up even earlier, tried arriving at the training grounds before him, but Adel was always there at dawn, swinging his sword.
'......Really...'
At first, it had been a rivalry burning with competitive spirit.
To her, who thought herself unmatched among her peers, the genius swordsmanship Adel displayed ignited both intense rivalry and deep respect.
And as time passed little by little, that respect gradually shifted into some inexplicable emotion.
".....H-Here. Water.... Would you like some?"
"Ah, thanks. Isabella."
She averted her eyes, trying not to look at the contours of his body revealed by his sweat-soaked clothes, desperately hiding her embarrassment.
Why was that?
To Isabella, who had lived her whole life swinging a sword bluntly and stoically, the feeling of love was utterly mortifying.
Eventually, just the sight of his face made her ears burn red, impossible to hide anymore—and so she confessed her feelings.
"......I, um...."
"Yeah?"
"........."
After hesitating for a long while, she finally bowed her head deeply and whispered so softly it was barely audible.
"......I like you."
"......."
"......."
"......Sorry."
In the heavy silence, his first words wounded her deeply.
She tried to compose her expression, pretending it didn't hurt, about to say it was fine—
"I'm still the Hero right now. Can you... say it again later?"
"......"
Her face flushed hot in an instant, soon turning beet red as if it might burst.
".....A-Ah, y-yes..... Yes..."
Stammering her reply, she fled the training grounds in a flash, lest anyone see.
Two years passed before she knew it, and the Empire formed a subjugation force to hunt the Demon King.
Joining the Hero's party was tantamount to a suicide squad, grueling beyond measure...
But Isabella volunteered for the Hero's party.
The path to slay the Demon King was treacherous and arduous.
Yet every time she shyly glanced at his face, that fluttering emotion felt so good.
One night during camp, when he sleep-talked and pulled her into an embrace, she trembled through the entire night.
But gradually, her memories began to twist in strange directions.
The man she loved so dearly transformed into a demonic figure, a butcher who slaughtered countless civilians and pillaged.
Moreover, the enemy who had killed her master—whom she revered as a father—right before her eyes.
They said the Demon King was defeated, but her life had already crumbled to its roots.
Isabella hoped never to see Adel again.
She lacked the confidence to face him, terrified of what might become of her if he said anything.
Yet despite that...
She had gone to see Adel, chained in the underground dungeon.
The 'he' before her eyes was in utterly dire straits.
The countless traces of torture, impossible to describe in words, starkly showed how far he had been pushed to his limits.
'Mass murderer of a hundred thousand.'
'Enemy of my master.'
Those two phrases were magic words that eased her guilt.
His suffering began to feel justified, and soon rage and resentment welled up deep within her.
".....You're truly trash."
She poured out all her emotions on the man before her.
She condemned him, insulted his character, vented endless resentment.
But Adel, who should have looked sorry or offered some excuse... responded with shameless audacity.
Thud-!!
"I.....hic.... liked you, respected you...."
Thwack!!
".......Ugh..."
"After all that.....hic..... are you even human?!?!?"
Isabella, usually so rational and unswayed by emotion, was haunted by this scene in nightmares.
Each time, she justified her actions as righteous with those two magic phrases, shaking off the dream.
That night too.
It was the same dream as always.
"....."
Waking with a start, she sensed something off about the dream's content.
And then, fragments of memory slowly flooded in.
[Are you okay?! ...Hah, good....]
[.....Ptooey, no priest nearby....]
[Are you alright? This area's under demon attack—it's dangerous. Follow me.]
[....Isabella?]
"......Ah....."
Her face...
".....Uh, ah......ugh...."
Crumbled helplessly.
"......Ahk....Ah...Aaaah!!!???"
As if only now fitting into the right pieces, scenes of the Demon King killing her master and demons slaughtering civilians amid their raid played out like a panorama before her.
The final memory: Adel's voice in court, pleading that it was all due to the Demon King's curse magic.
".......Urk.....?!!"
After vomiting up her guts once, she staggered outside in her nightgown.
Her destination was set.
The underground dungeon.
She had to see Adel.
If she couldn't, she might go mad.
She had to apologize.
No, she had to say something.
".....K-Knight Commander?"
".....G-Give me... a horse..."
"....S-Something's wrong. Please calm down first—"
"......!!"
She had no time for arguments here.
Unaware she was barefoot, she dashed toward the Imperial Palace's underground dungeon.
And when she arrived at the dungeon...
"......Tch, too late. Isabella."
"......"
It was Seria.
"No need for that face like you're about to burst into tears. You're three months late."
".....D-Do you know... where he is?"
Her voice hoarse with desperation, but Seria just shrugged and changed the subject.
"Even I'd head back to the forest if I got treated like that after rolling around for three years..."
At that sight, a faint glimmer of hope flickered in Isabella's eyes.
She dropped to her knees, clutched at Seria, and begged earnestly.
"....Please, please.... You know where he is, right?"
".....Who knows."
Seria backed away in flustered panic for a moment, then sighed in resignation and shared what she knew.
".....Don't know the exact spot. Trail went cold in Arden Forest. Seems headed toward the Empire's eastern outskirts, direction-wise..."
—
It had been about four months since settling at the Empire's eastern fringe.
Stepping inside the Adventurer's Guild building, sure enough, folks at the nearby tables were guzzling booze and harping on the same topic.
"That's right, see? The Demon King left a curse that pinned all the blame on the Hero."
"Nah, I just cursed at the papers. Tsk, it's embarrassing just hearing the gist. So where's the Hero now?"
"No clue. They're offering five thousand gold to whoever finds him, but if he hasn't turned up... maybe he's dead? Heard the torture left him in ruins."
"....."
Silent, I approached the reception desk, showed Aris my adventurer ID, and said,
"Requesting promotion of our party to B-rank."
She greeted with her sales smile, glanced at the ID, then froze—comparing my face to it over and over.
"......C-rank adventurer, Mr. Edward...? I-Is that you?"
".....Yeah."
Thanks to our fanatic priest spotting my partially covered face by chance, I'd been forced into a shave and short haircut—leaving me with an oddly refreshing feeling.
Never noticed when it was long, but damn, this is comfy.
Aris stared blankly at my face before snapping to, taking the ID.
"....Ahaha, you'll need a new photo.... Approved. But for B-rank promotion, no more D-rankers allowed in the party..."
".....Dead."
".....Gaia's blessings..."
"Skip it. Guy got greedy and lost his life. No hard feelings."
"....."
At a loss for words, she hesitated before making an offer.
"Oh? Then you might need a new member?"
"......Probably."
"A woman came by a few days ago, wanting to join your party.... Red-haired swordswoman..."
"What's her rank?"
"A-rank....."
".....An A-rank adventurer?"
Aris signaled me to lean in, hinting at something juicy.
I did, and she whispered about the mysterious swordswoman.
"She's the talk of the town right now.... Burst into the guild demanding the long-unsolved high orc village quest... cleared it solo."
".....High orcs?"
What're high orcs?
Orcs' superiors—each equivalent to a B-rank adventurer.
A high orc dungeon's at least A-rank, so this woman solo-cleared an A-rank dungeon.
'.....A knight?'
A knight in the party would be a godsend.
We had one mage and one priest; needed another frontline.
Only question: why join us with that skill?
Decided to meet and judge for myself if she's shady.
"Where is she now?"
Aris slowly pointed.
A swordswoman in the dim corner window seat, sipping wine like it was grape juice, alone.
Our eyes met—or seemed to; she turned away.
I strode over and greeted her.
"Hello?"
"......."
'.....?'
She was desperately avoiding eye contact.
Flash of thought: ex-knight might recognize me. I lowered my head to peer at her face.
'......Don't know her.'
Relieved, I extended a hand.
"Edward. Heard you want to join our party?"
"......Yes."
Tiny voice.
Hm, super introverted type?
High-rank adventurers rarely join low-rank parties unless passive.
She shyly turned, staring at me intently.
Then suddenly—plink—tears welled and trickled down.
".....Huh?"
"N-No, it's nothing.... I'm fine...."
I offered a handkerchief; she waved it off frantically, rubbing her eyes.
Updating my view: not quite normal. I slowly asked her name.
"Mind telling me your name?"
".....Isa..."
Suddenly, she clamped her mouth shut, face draining white.
".....Pardon?"
".....Isa Belial. I'm Isa Belial."