Chapter 151: Cruel Truth, Cruel Fate (4)
The snow fell incessantly, as if it never tired.
With his hood knocked back by the fierce wind and no thought of pulling it back up, Deon Hart simply pushed through the snowflakes and staggered to a halt in front of his own residence, where the gate had fallen into a commotion upon spotting him from afar.
"My lord, you've returned...?!"
The gatekeeper's words were cut short.
Deon Hart's knees buckled. He collapsed to his knees as if crumbling. It wasn't directed at any particular person—just a situation caused by his body being unable to hold out any longer.
Even knowing that, there was no helping the shock. Just as one of the startled gatekeepers tried to rush over to him, Rememver, who had appeared from who-knew-where, passed him by and approached Deon.
"My lord."
The old butler, who could not dare to look down upon his master, knelt down as well and spoke in his usual aged voice.
It was nothing special, that voice, but the tension abruptly released for no reason.
"Can you hear me? You must get up. The weather is cold."
"...Rememver."
"Yes, I shall escort you inside. Please forgive the impertinence."
As Rememver placed his hands on Deon's body to support him, he paused momentarily at the intense heat he immediately felt.
It was only a brief pause. He tried to help him up, pretending nothing was wrong, but his attempt was thwarted when his master grabbed him by both shoulders and practically clung to him.
'...'
The white hands gripping the butler's shoulders trembled piteously. The trembling that began in his hands gradually grew until his entire body began to shiver violently.
A desperate calling followed, like a child with no one to lean on clinging to the only adult present.
"Rememver, Rememver...."
"...Yes, my lord."
"I, I...!"
A suppressed wail—whether a scream or a sob, it was hard to tell—escaped with difficulty.
He'd thought that after his mind had already shattered during the incident at the Demon Castle, there was nothing left to break. But apparently that hadn't been the case.
Ridiculously, it was only now sinking in.
'I killed my family.'
He'd killed his innocent family and caused them to die.
Whether it was the fever or the unbearable emotions, his vision spun wildly. His train of thought lurched in haphazard directions along with it.
Only now did he understand why he had asked the Emperor 'why' back then. He'd been hoping for an excuse.
It wasn't just some petty sense of betrayal. Who in their right mind would be fool enough to trust a sovereign meant to serve all people? At the very least, Deon wasn't.
It was just.
'If I could say that from the very beginning, I was manipulated by someone's intent.'
The Emperor's affirmation was an affirmation of the Duke's actions that the Demon King had revealed to him.
In other words, an affirmation that from the start, they had calculated and intended it all, using him thoroughly.
'Then I become too utterly wretched.'
There's a difference between taking advantage of a situation that happened to align by chance, and deliberately creating the situation from the beginning to exploit it.
Among all those instances of being 'used,' there was the participation in the Eight-Year War. He had thought that, at least, was something he chose and acted on himself—'the annihilation of his house'—not part of someone's calculated scheme.
'What the hell kind of life have I been living...?'
Could even that have been someone's intent?
His fingertips went cold.
Seeing Deon's state was precarious and volatile at a glance, Rememver stopped silently observing and began patting his back with one hand while raising the other to the back of his neck.
Thwack.
"...!"
Amid the silent shock of the gatekeepers, Deon Hart's eyes slowly closed.
Rememver, catching the body that crumpled limply, cast his gaze at Dan, who had been watching the situation from nearby for some time now.
"Escort him to his room."
"...Yes."
Despite his confused eyes, Dan strode over and lifted Deon into his arms.
Rememver watched his retreating figure enter the mansion, then turned his head back to look at the gatekeepers, who had been stupefied by the scene.
...There was still the aftermath to clean up. To think he would kneel and wail in such an open, exposed place.
"You lot... saw nothing today. Do you understand?"
"Y-yes... yes!"
* * *
Deon Hart shut himself in his room just like that. He didn't even eat.
He never came out, so the food Rememver carefully placed inside his room went untouched and had to be taken away dried out. And yet, from who-knew-where he found the energy, occasionally the brutal sound of things being destroyed echoed through the mansion, making the atmosphere among all the servants feel like walking on thin ice.
He even tried to strangle himself or pointed sharp objects at his own body, so Rememver frequently had to rush in and stop him.
Today was no different.
"My lord, isn't this quite enough? Stop tormenting this old man's heart and leave it be now."
"Hic, hicc—."
Rememver, having received word from the personal attendant he had assigned to Deon Hart, immediately dashed in and subdued his master, who was just about to drive a shard of glass into his own forearm.
Weakened from refusing all food and drink, his body couldn't even properly resist and was caught helplessly.
"My lord...."
He knew Deon was only targeting non-vital areas because he couldn't bring himself to actually die. Still, as his butler, he couldn't simply stand by and watch his master wound his own body. Rememver pried the sharp glass shard from Deon's hand and let out an almost inaudible sigh.
"This old man does not know what you have seen, experienced, or come to learn."
"...."
"But you cannot go on like this indefinitely. You are not going to die, after all."
He didn't know what bound him to life.
No doubt, whatever he had seen, or the truth he had come to know, had simultaneously made him want to die and chained him so he couldn't.
"So please, pull yourself together now. You must go on living."
"...."
Outside the open door, in the hallway, Dan silently watched the entire scene.
What in the world had he gone through? Deon Hart's wrecked appearance was truly a sight to behold. It was a shock.
'I came to follow the Calamity.'
Where in that state was there any sign of a calamity?
He thought that if Deon suffered a mental shock, his nature as the Calamity would reveal itself. But right now, Deon Hart was merely a weak human, consumed by emotion and writhing. Not a trace of the 'Calamity' could be found anywhere.
He'd decided not to doubt.
'Did I get it wrong?'
Watching this, confusion naturally set in.
In the meantime, Rememver laid the calmed Deon down on the bed and quietly closed the door as he came out.
Even after Deon Hart vanished from sight, Dan couldn't easily move. Not until Rememver, growing impatient, urged him to clear out.
* * *
The confusion cleared up faster than expected.
Perhaps the butler's words had some effect, because a few days later, he pulled himself together and emerged from the room.
"You've already come out. You did not even rest more."
"...."
Passing by Rememver, who was worried about his health, Deon stood before Dan.
His gaunt face, as if he'd lost weight in that time, and his dark under-eye circles. The atmosphere was clearly different from usual, and his expression was dreadfully arid. Dan flinched for a moment, but it seemed Deon had something to say, so he tilted his head.
"My lord...?"
"...."
Rememver, glancing between the two, tactfully found a nearby room suitable for a private conversation and guided them. Left alone in the space, Dan rolled his eyes around. When he couldn't bear the awkwardness any longer and opened his mouth—
"How is your body feel—"
"What am I to you?"
"...."
Deon, who had been quietly watching him, spoke up.
"What am I, that you follow me?"
He knew Dan's goal was following him in itself. He also knew that the version of himself Dan wanted to see was not a gentle one, but a harsh one.
However, he had absolutely no idea why. So, having resolved to make a different decision depending on his answer, Deon waited for Dan's response.
"...."
Seeing Deon's subdued eyes, Dan closed his mouth for a moment.
Following him down here and learning various things, Dan had realized he had a fair talent for speech. So he could have easily packaged up an answer for this question in a slick and polished way, but...
...He just, didn't want to.
"The person who ruined my life."
He gave the raw, unfiltered answer.
Deon seemed taken aback by the unexpected reply and was silent for a moment. Dan smiled softly at him.
"And the person who will achieve my goal, and is the goal itself."
You are someone I resent, and at the same time, someone I like.
He knew it wasn't Deon's fault. He knew very well that the one at fault was his shaman grandmother who ran her mouth off, the villagers who were swayed by such nonsense, and ultimately, a handful of wicked adults who wanted him dead.
'But if it weren't for you, my life would've been more or less smooth.'
Because you wouldn't have appeared in the future my shaman grandmother divined.
So he resented Deon, but he also liked him because he was the very card that would properly serve those wicked adults their comeuppance. He couldn't help but like him all the more because during that short time he'd followed Deon down here and set up a trading company, he'd faced all sorts of filthy human filth.
'The Calamity? Good. Very good.'
May this filthy world all go to ruin.
"...Come with me."
The silent Deon extended his hand.
Dan was neither the Emperor's man nor the Demon King's man. He was the one and only person who had followed Deon Hart alone, looking only at him. Having one such person around wouldn't be so bad.
Seeing his eyes glow crimson, Dan held a faint smile.
His instincts told him. That is the 'Calamity' you've been wanting to see.
...Ahh.
'In the end, whatever excuse I come up with.'
It seems I am fated to fall for you, just as the shaman's prophecy said.
Yes, truthfully, any reason I had come up with was far too flimsy to use as justification for following the 'Calamity.' Seeing this, it seems fate really does exist.
Because otherwise, there's no way I'd be this overwhelmed just by looking at you right now.
They clasped hands.
Deon pulled up the corner of his mouth into a dry smile.
After going mad alone in his room, getting an earful from Rememver, and pulling himself together, he had thought long and hard.
'What should I do?'
What could he do to atone, even a little, to Cruel?
A way to atone to his brother and suppress this urge to die right that instant. After thinking for just a moment, the answer came easily.
'Revenge.'
[You must go on living.]
[...Alright. I'll go on living.]
Let's take revenge.
Kill them all.
* * *
And then Deon Hart asked.
[You, you met me once in the past, didn't you?]
Dan nodded.
* * *
Early in the Eight-Year War.
Dan was on the move with the village adults, following the shaman grandmother's instructions.
Something about how this village would soon become a sea of fire, so they had to relocate quickly. Young Dan only remembered 'we have to move' and tuned out most of the rest.
Then, during a brief rest period along the way.
Like any other child, Dan, full of curiosity and vigorous energy, quietly got up and wandered around.
Since he was an orphan who'd lost his parents at a young age, he had no guardian who would notice or care if he wasn't there. It wasn't hard to slip away unnoticed.
After pushing through the grass and walking for who knows how long, not far from where they'd departed, he came across a boy drenched in blood.
"...."
"...Cough."
The boy was coughing up blood.
Instead of speaking carelessly, Dan cautiously studied him.
White hair and red eyes. Strangely pale skin. He'd thought the boy's eyes resembled a cat's, and as if he really were a cat, he was glaring at Dan as though his hackles were raised and he was hissing.
"...Who are you?"
"...."
Right, of course he wouldn't answer....
Instead, Dan lowered his gaze to examine the other's attire. It was hard to make out, covered in blood as it was, but he recognized it without much delay. It was a uniform he'd seen from afar at some point during the move.
The military uniform of an ordinary Imperial Army soldier.
The moment he realized that, Dan, without a thought for his own age, blurted out.
"A soldier? A little kid like you?"
"...."
The boy's eyes narrowed, filled with disbelief and irritation.
"Do you wanna die? Get lost."
"...You've got a foul mouth."
"You wanna see what a real foul mouth looks like? You shitty little bastard, if you don't get lost right now, I'll cut off your arms and legs and rip that flapping snout of yours wide open...."
"Stop, stop! I'm sorry, I was wrong."