The Hand He Rejected
"AAAAAAH—!!!"
With a piercing scream that hardly seemed his own, Logan tore free of the horrifying vision of the future.
Crash—!
It sounded as if something had shattered, and in the next instant his blurred vision snapped back into fuzzy reality.
Gasping for breath, he slumped against the wall. Cold sweat poured down him like rain, and his heart hammered wildly, beyond all control.
"Hah...! Hah...!"
Only moments ago, images of the future had played out vividly before his eyes. Whether they were real or illusion, Logan simply could not tell anymore.
It hadn't been mere visual information. The overwhelming joy of his wedding day, his unwavering love for Irene.
And then...
The heart-rending agony and despair he'd felt when he finally saw the baby's face.
Every sensation had been achingly, impossibly real.
Yet he shook his head desperately.
It's... it's the Demon King's... curse... hahaha... yes, that's it. This has to be a curse the Demon King laid on me before he died...
It had to be. There was no other explanation.
Irene — the woman he had loved and devoted himself to with everything he had — could never have done something so monstrous.
I... I gave everything... asking nothing in return, living only for you...
No. That was a lie.
If he was being honest, somewhere deep in his heart—
He had always yearned for a happy future with her. He had always wanted her love.
But not once had he ever voiced it or pressed it upon her.
He had simply stood quietly at her side, hoping that someday she would come to understand how he truly felt.
Was that really such a terrible sin?
Was it... was it that wrong? Even if it was... even so... how could you do something this cruel?!
Right. This couldn't be reality. It was far too hideous, far too cruel.
This had to be an illusion conjured by the Demon King — a nightmare, a curse.
Brainwashing himself over and over, Logan clung by his fingernails to the last thread of his sanity.
It was in the depths of that confusion, as he finally managed to lift his head, that two familiar figures swam into his bleary vision.
"Sera..."
"My Hero..."
Rian and Sera. The two of them were gazing at each other tenderly, leaning in for a kiss.
It matched the scene from the vision in his head exactly, down to the smallest detail. Logan felt his heart turn to ice in his chest.
Which meant that next, Irene would—
Oh... oh please... please don't let it be true...
Logan prayed with everything he had.
Rian and Sera had always been drawn to each other, so that much he could accept.
But Irene...
Please. Let her, of all people, be different from what the vision showed.
But Logan's desperate hope was shattered without mercy.
"Logan......"
Irene was approaching him with a pitiful expression, the fragile figure of a woman wounded by heartbreak.
The look in her eyes begging for comfort — that expression, those very footsteps.
Every detail was bone-chillingly identical to the future that had played out in his mind.
Ah.
And in that moment, Logan understood everything. It was not a curse. It was not an illusion.
He wanted desperately to deny what he had witnessed, but it was unmistakably, undeniably a glimpse of what was to come.
And so—
Her outstretched hand.
The very hand that the man he used to be would have seized gladly — no, ecstatically—
Logan, without even thinking, swatted it away on pure reflex—
Smack!
—with a rough, violent motion.
###
"L-Logan...?"
Irene's black eyes wavered wide with shock and bewilderment.
Never once in her memory had Logan rejected her touch.
Caught completely off guard by his behavior, Irene froze on the spot, unsure for a moment of what to say.
Only when he saw her face did Logan realize what he had done. But the water had already been spilled.
"Ah—sorry. It's just habit... I wasn't thinking."
He threw out an excuse in a rush.
The Demon King was dead, but remnants of his army might still be hiding — a plausible enough excuse.
After all, it had always been Logan who handled vigilance for the Hero's Party.
"O-oh... it's... it's fine..."
Irene tried to answer, her voice trembling — but the words wouldn't come.
Logan's voice might have been as gentle as ever, but his eyes were nothing of the sort.
Logan, too, belatedly became aware of his own expression.
"Oh, no..."
He didn't need a mirror to know.
There wasn't a trace of his usual warmth left on his face right now.
How hard had he worked, all these years, to show her nothing but kindness and warmth?
He fought desperately to rein his emotions back in.
There was no reason to treat her coldly over a future that hadn't even happened yet.
And so Logan forced the corners of his mouth upward, manufacturing his usual smile. Then, in the gentlest voice he could muster, he spoke as if nothing were wrong.
"You did well, Irene... It's finally all over..."
"Y-yeah..."
Irene tilted her head briefly at the subtle wrongness she sensed radiating from Logan, but she didn't think too hard about it.
Her long-cherished belief — that Logan would never refuse her, never turn away from her — forcibly buried the strange feeling before her eyes.
It must have been a simple accident, she told herself, and with that self-justification she stepped toward him once more.
"Lo... Logan... I..."
She reached out to him again, seeking comfort for her heartbreak. She wanted to be wrapped in his warm embrace and find solace there.
But at the sight of her, Logan's conviction hardened once and for all.
Ah...
What he had seen was no illusion.
How else could it be — how else could Irene reach for him so casually, demanding comfort and help as if it were her due, while her gaze still drifted back toward Rian?
For the first time, Logan felt a clear, unmistakable sense of betrayal toward Irene.
And so, this time too, he turned away from her outstretched hand.
No — he pretended not to see it.
He turned his body fully away from Irene and called out, deliberately loud, toward Rian and Sera, who were still basking in their post-battle sweetness.
"Rian! Sera! What are you two standing around for?! We need to get out of here now! This castle could come down on us at any moment!"
"R-right! Logan's right! We have to move, fast!"
"Y-yes! The battle was so fierce — who knows when the castle might collapse!"
Shaken to their senses at last by Logan's shout, Rian and Sera echoed his words and hurried toward the exit of the Demon King's Castle.
"......Logan?"
Irene stood rooted to the spot, staring blankly at Logan's back as he walked away from her without a moment's hesitation.
Why? Why was Logan acting like this?
She simply could not understand.
Cr-r-rumble—!
At that very moment, part of the castle's ceiling came crashing down with a thunderous roar, and great fissures began spidering across the walls.
Jolted awake by the sound, Irene pushed aside her spiraling thoughts and hurried after Logan and the others, escape her only priority for now.
The cracks in the wall split deeper and deeper, as if mirroring the fracture that had just opened between Logan and Irene.
But even now—
Irene still believed, with absolute certainty:
Logan would never, ever abandon her.
Whatever happened, he had always looked only at her, always been on her side—
Logan, of all people. No one else but Logan.
###
Ku-gu-gu-gung—!
The colossal fortress that had served as Demon King Belzegor's throne finally collapsed in on itself, spent and broken.
With that roar, the last resistance of the Demon Army remnants fighting their final stand against the Subjugation Force outside the castle walls was crushed utterly.
Some fled in abject terror. Others dropped their weapons, sank to the ground where they stood, and signaled their surrender.
"Ah... ah... My Demon King...! We have to run! Spare me!"
"Why... why are we— kagh!"
But their fates had already been sealed.
The church priests attached to the Subjugation Force showed no mercy to the demonkin. They accepted no surrenders, unleashing merciless flames of purification instead.
The fleeing demons fell to the Subjugation Force's blades, and those who surrendered were reduced to ash by holy magic.
Anastasia's face hardened as she watched the grisly spectacle. Baldur and Elara beside her could not hide their conflicted expressions either.
"Hmph... I'm sorely doubting those lot are truly the servants of a merciful Goddess, ye know. So cruel as all that..."
Baldur clicked his tongue.
"Tch. Agreed. Butchering even those who surrender — no wonder the demonkin fought to the very end. Honestly, it's getting hard to tell who the real monsters are."
Elara nodded in agreement. It had reached the point where one could hardly distinguish villain from victim.
Anastasia sympathized with both of them, but this was no time to spark internal division. She raised a hand to stop them.
"I share your concerns, truly... but this is not the moment to raise our voices. First... first we must pray for the Hero's Party to return to us safely."
"Aye... ye speak wisely, Your Highness. No sense stirring up seeds of strife with careless words. Especially ye, pointy-ears."
"What did you say, you blockheaded dwarf?! You're the one who started flapping your lips first!"
Leaving the two of them to bicker as they always did, Anastasia gazed at the crumbling Demon King's Castle with eyes clouded by anxiety.
Logan...
Please let him be safe.
Don't tell me... he didn't truly sacrifice himself to slay the Demon King. Anything but that.
If something had happened to him...
She could not have sworn to what she might do.
And so, just as Anastasia and so many others were praying desperately for the Hero's Party to come out alive—
"OOOOH!! It's the Hero!"
"Saintess! You're unharmed, thank the heavens!"
"Lady Irene too! What a relief!"
As the Hero's Party finally emerged through the billowing clouds of dust, cheers erupted from every direction.
Soldiers and commanders raced forward, jostling one another to celebrate the heroes' return. The names of Rian, Sera, and Irene rang out again and again, showered with praise.
But almost no one called Logan's name or came to greet him. Only Baldur and Elara made their way over, clapping him on the shoulder.
"Hahahah! That's our Logan! I knew ye had it in ye, lad!"
"Tch... these short-lived fools can't even tell who actually won this battle. Why not come live in our Elven Forest while you're at it? A man of your caliber, we'd welcome ye well enough even if ye are human."
"Again with this, you pointy-eared witch?! Are you seriously making eyes at a boy centuries younger than you?!"
"Wh-what?! Such slander from this insolent stump of a dwarf!"
At the sight of Baldur and Elara scuffling as they always did, Logan managed a faint, effortful smile.
Thanks to their kindness, the ice around his heart seemed to thaw just a little — but somewhere deep in his chest, a hollow ache still sat, empty and suffocating.
And then—
"Logan...!"
At the sound of that desperate voice, Anastasia came pushing through the crowd, running straight for him.
Logan faltered, almost despite himself, at the sight of her approaching so freely — unhesitating — toward someone as bedraggled and broken as he was.
"Ah..."
Why was it? The moment he saw her face, the emotions he had been choking down came surging back up all at once. His chest ached, sharp and tender.
Perhaps that was why—
Logan did not evade Anastasia as she crashed into him, her face a tangle of worry and relief.
No — he even lifted his arms slightly, as if to catch her.
Thump!
"...Oh?"
The moment she found herself held against Logan's chest, Anastasia's breath caught in her throat.
She had never imagined he would actually accept her embrace. Her heart began to pound furiously.
And what startled her even more was the low voice that murmured beside her ear.
"...Your Highness... no... Anya..."
"!!!"
Anya. The pet name she had longed to hear for so long.
The name he had called her during those brief days five years ago. Anastasia couldn't believe her own ears.
"Forgive me, but... just for a moment... may I lean on you like this?"
His voice was exhausted, and it trembled with something fragile and precarious.
In that instant, Anastasia understood everything.
How much he had endured. How desperately he needed comfort, here and now.
"Yes...? Oh — yes! Of course! As much as you need!"
Carefully, but with real strength, Anastasia wrapped her arms around Logan's back as he leaned into her. His worn body was trembling ever so slightly.
"Lean on me as long as you like, Logan... I... I will always be at your side..."
"......"
Truly worn through and spent, Logan simply rested against her warm embrace and quietly closed his eyes.
Like a wanderer who had finally, after endless drifting, found his way home.
A short distance away, Irene — who had been sharing in the joy of victory alongside Rian and Sera — froze solid the moment she spotted Logan and Anastasia holding each other.
......How dare she.
It was an unthinkable sight.
The color drained from her face in an instant, and cold fury and jealousy flared in her eyes.
My Logan...! That woman dares—!
Irene glared at Anastasia with pure, venomous hatred.
That viper of a woman, seizing on a moment of his weakness, ensnaring him like a fox and stealing him away!
Irene wanted to run over right that instant and tear the two of them apart — but then—
"Irene! Come over here! We need to raise a toast to our victory, all of us together!"
"Huh?... O-oh! Right! Coming, Rian!"
Rian called out to her with a dazzling smile. Suppressing her rage toward Anastasia with all her might, Irene hurried to his side.
Keeping Rian happy mattered more right now. After all, Logan would always put her first over some woman like that anyway.
Irene still had no idea. No idea that something had gone profoundly, catastrophically wrong.
If only she had tried, even a little, to understand Logan's heart.
If only, even now — late as it was — she had gone to him, truly apologized, and comforted him.
Then perhaps... perhaps everything could still have been turned back.
But such what-ifs no longer meant anything at all.
Because the pure, unselfish devotion he had poured out so freely for all these long years was, quietly, coming to its end.