A Stranger's Cold Gaze
It was finally over.
A soft hiss filled the air...
The massive body of the Demon King Beelzegor crumbled away into dust.
As the suffocating tension lifted, a faint light began to seep into the ruined Demon King's Castle.
In the distance, Rian—the Hero she loved so dearly—stood with the Holy Sword Elysium raised high, smiling brilliantly.
"We did it! We've finally saved the world! Everyone, thank you for everything!"
"Rian!"
Irene, the party's mage, broke into a radiant smile and started toward him. She wanted to share this joy by his side.
But someone beat her to it.
"My Hero~!"
Sera, the Saintess, had slipped in out of nowhere and threw her slender arms around Rian, pressing herself into his chest.
"S-Sera?"
Rian seemed a little flustered, but he made no move to push her away—a faint blush coloring his face, as if he hardly minded at all.
"You truly worked so, so hard! My Hero..."
"Sera..."
Their faces drew naturally closer, so near that their lips might touch at any moment.
At the sight, Irene's head whipped away before she could stop herself.
Her heart felt as though it were being doused in ice water. A throbbing pain stabbed through her chest.
Why... why is it Sera? Am I not enough? No—absolutely not. There's no one who loves Rian more than I do...
Entangled with injustice and grief, Irene's vision blurred.
It was then that a familiar silhouette caught the corner of her eye.
A man, coated head to toe in dust, leaning against the wall as he quietly caught his breath.
Logan...
The person who had always been at her side since childhood.
The one who took her in when she was lost and grieving after losing her parents, who never shied away from the dirtiest work, who held her up through everything.
It was Logan, too, who had helped her join the Magic Tower so she could become the mage of the Hero's Party.
He had always had eyes only for her. He would surely comfort this ache.
"Logan..."
Seeking solace, Irene walked slowly toward him.
And she reached out, carefully, toward his arm.
Then—
Smack!
"...!?"
Her hand was swatted away, roughly.
Caught so completely off guard, Irene froze on the spot.
What on earth was this?
He slapped her hand away? Logan, of all people?
As she stood there dazed and bewildered, a voice reached her ears.
"Ah—sorry. I did that out of pure habit..."
It was Logan's voice, as gentle as ever.
Well, of course.
He was probably still on guard against a possible ambush by remnants of the Demon Army. He'd reacted without even thinking.
Telling herself this, Irene forced a soft smile and tried to speak again.
"O-oh... no, it's fine..."
But she couldn't finish the sentence.
Because the eyes that had always gazed at her with such tender warmth—
—were now fixed on her, cold and expressionless, as if she were a perfect stranger he had never once laid eyes on before.