The Triumphal Return
The imperial capital of Arcadia seethed with feverish excitement, celebrating the return of its heroes.
The parade welcoming the Hero's Party and the Subjugation Force—triumphant from their feat of slaying the Demon King—was a spectacle beyond description.
Citizens packed the streets, scattering flower petals, cheering themselves hoarse as they chanted the names of the heroes over and over.
With a rumble, the ornate carriage reserved for the Hero's Party rolled slowly through the sea of people.
But the atmosphere inside that carriage was a far cry from the festival outside.
Irene forced a smile and waved out the window, while inside she was boiling over with the fury and humiliation of last night.
She shot a glance at Logan seated across from her. He still only stared out at the distant scenery beyond the glass, not so much as a flicker of his eyes in her direction.
'Logan, how can you keep doing this to me...!?'
Anger and hurt surged through her all at once. Hadn't he been given enough time to rest—two whole days? She simply could not understand why he insisted on acting this way when he would inevitably come back to her in the end. And so, just as she was trying to work up the nerve to say something to him—
"Irene! What are you doing! You have to keep waving! Everyone's watching us!"
Rian, seated across the carriage, seized Irene by the wrist and waved her hand out the window for her.
At his sudden gesture and bright smile, the discomfort of last night vanished from Irene's mind in an instant.
"Ah—yes! Rian!"
As if nothing had ever happened, Irene flushed and beamed, waving to the citizens as Rian guided her hand.
The couple's affectionate display drew even louder cheers from the crowds outside the carriage.
Sera watched the two of them and clicked her tongue inwardly. She answered the crowd with the very picture of benevolent grace, but her eyes had gone cold and still.
'Good grief... this fool and that woman—both of them are beyond saving.'
As if it weren't enough that they were desperate to parade the Hero-and-Saintess couple before the citizens, there was Rian mindlessly waving hands with another woman, and Irene swooning at the slightest word from him. It was pathetic beyond words.
Sera turned her head and secretly studied Logan, who stared silently out the window. No emotion could be read on his face, yet somehow a profound loneliness seemed to radiate from him.
'What on earth happened to make him act like this all of a sudden?'
Logan's abrupt change remained an unsolved riddle to Sera as well.
With a blockhead like Rian, fair enough—but there was no way Logan of all people could fail to notice Irene's feelings, when she flaunted her displeasure so openly.
The old Logan would have tried to soothe her somehow. Now he didn't lift a finger at all.
For his part, Logan—forced to ride in the same carriage as the Hero's Party for the parade, of all days—felt a tangle of emotions as the tender scene between Rian and Irene unfolded right beside him.
Watching Irene's face soften into a smile at a single word from Rian, the faint guilt he'd carried for treating her coldly, even briefly, seemed to melt away like snow.
That's right. She was someone who could smile like that without him. Maybe she always had been.
'My help... my feelings... they never meant anything to begin with...'
Emptiness and bitterness washed over him together. Logan soon turned his head away, resolving not to look at them any longer, and fixed his gaze silently on the scenery outside the window.
And then there was the other one—at the very head of the procession, riding a white horse, Anastasia answered the citizens' cheers with a commanding, majestic presence.
The pouring sunlight made her platinum blonde hair blaze all the more brilliantly. At her side, the loyal knight Renate guarded her without a single gap in her defense.
'Logan...'
Even as she smiled for the citizens, part of Anastasia's heart was with Logan inside the Hero's Party carriage trailing behind her.
She worried whether he was all right in that uncomfortable space, whether he was being hurt all over again.
But right now she had to lead this glorious moment—as the Crown Princess of the Empire, as Supreme Commander of the Subjugation Force.
Forcing down her personal feelings, she pressed on with the march, displaying the dignity of a future Emperor.
When the splendid triumphal parade ended, the Hero's Party and the commanders of the Subjugation Force finally entered the Throne Audience Chamber of the Imperial Palace.
Emperor Valerius von Starngard, seated upon the throne, received them with a solemn expression.
In his eyes lived both admiration for the heroes who had accomplished the feat of slaying the Demon King, and deep anguish for an empire worn ragged by long years of war.
First, Valerius praised the Hero's Party's achievements.
"I extend my deepest gratitude to the Hero's Party for vanquishing Demon King Belzegor and bringing peace to the Empire and the continent. Your courage and devotion shall be recorded in history for all time."
At the Emperor's praise, Rian puffed out his chest with self-importance.
"Hahaha! Your Majesty, this much was merely the duty of a Hero blessed by the Goddess! Before my Holy Sword Elysium, even that Demon King could hardly... Urk!"
Just as Rian was launching into his full braggadocio, Sera beside him pinched him in the side to cut him off.
"It appears His Eminence the Hero is worn in body and mind from the unrelenting battles. Your Majesty, we beg your gracious understanding. It was thanks to the wishes of Your Majesty and the people of the Empire, and the blessing of the Goddess, that our Hero's Party was able to fulfill its mission."
At Sera's skillful, humble handling, the Emperor gave a faint nod, while Rian wore a bewildered expression, having no idea what he'd done wrong.
Next, Valerius turned his gaze to the representatives of the other races who had joined the Subjugation Force.
"I offer my sincere thanks as well to the representatives of our allied races, who came from distant lands to aid the Empire in the subjugation of the Demon King. This victory belongs to us all."
"I promise that we shall devote ourselves, nationally and diplomatically, to rebuilding our respective homelands devastated by the long war, and to forging an even firmer relationship of cooperation going forward."
At the Emperor's heartfelt words, Baldur Ironfist and Elara Silvanus, along with the other allied representatives, nodded in reply.
"Her Majesty speaks true, and I share the sentiment wholeheartedly. We dwarves, too, shall cooperate fully in the postwar reconstruction and in mutual exchange."
"The Elf Kingdom likewise. We hope that through this opportunity, we may wash away the long distrust between our races and open a true age of peace."
At last, Valerius's gaze came to rest on his daughter, Anastasia. Complicated emotions flickered across his face.
"And I commend the merit of the Supreme Commander who led the Subjugation Force with distinction and delivered us victory at last—my daughter, Anastasia."
Valerius carried a deep guilt over how he had failed to properly care for her when she had fallen ill with that mysterious, incurable disease long ago.
He could have excused himself—that he'd had no choice, struggling to protect the imperial authority against the pressure of the noble factions and the Church. But the fact remained: as a father, he had failed to protect his daughter.
And yet Anastasia had overcome her illness on her own, ascended to the position of Crown Princess without anyone's help, and piled on the tremendous achievement of the Demon King's subjugation besides.
He found her remarkable and felt proud of her—and at the same time, he could not suppress his remorse.
"Truly... magnificent. Anastasia."
At Valerius's sincere praise, Anastasia bowed her head with proper courtesy and answered with humility.
"You honor me too greatly, Your Majesty. All of this glory belongs to the Hero's Party and the soldiers of the Subjugation Force, and to the devotion of every soldier and citizen of the Empire who fought the Demon King's army from their own posts. I merely did the duty assigned to me."
At her modest yet steely bearing, everyone gathered in the Audience Chamber marveled. Not only the Emperor but the ministers of state and the foreign envoys alike offered praise for her caliber and leadership.
Amid that atmosphere, Emperor Valerius at last made his decision. Rising from the throne, he declared solemnly:
"I proclaim a momentous decision here today! From this hour forward, Crown Princess Anastasia shall take charge of all governance of the Empire, and I shall step back to support her!"
At the Emperor's sudden proclamation, the Audience Chamber fell silent in an instant, as if doused with water. Everyone stared at him, swept up in shock and bewilderment.
Most thunderstruck of all—hit from behind, as it were—were Sera and Archbishop Bertrand, who stood behind her.
'Unbelievable... that lunatic of an Emperor!'
Sera cursed inwardly.
Wasn't he the incompetent Emperor who had always looked only to his own comfort, tiptoeing around the Church and the nobility?
Her plan to leverage the chaotic political climate after the Demon King's subjugation to strengthen the Church's influence over the throne was now in danger of dissolving into nothing.
If Anastasia took real power, she would certainly show the Church no goodwill whatsoever.
Archbishop Bertrand, flustered, hastily stepped forward.
"Your Majesty! It is well acknowledged that Her Highness the Crown Princess is brilliant and capable, but to make a decision of such gravity without any consultation with our Church—!"
"Consultation with the Church? Tell me, Archbishop—since when has it been required that I obtain the Church's permission to decide the great affairs of the Empire?"
At Bertrand's words, Valerius cut him off with an icy glare. In his eyes burned a resolve that had never been there before.
"N-no, that is not what I meant, Your Majesty! Only a matter of procedure—"
Bertrand tried to stammer out an excuse, but the Emperor waved him silent, as if he were no longer worth listening to.
'Tch. What a senile old fool. How can he bare his ulterior motives so brazenly?'
Sera clicked her tongue once more at Bertrand's foolishness.
The Emperor had come out unexpectedly strong, so she decided to take a step back for now. This was not the moment for a head-on clash.
"Your Majesty, I am sure that is not what His Grace the Archbishop intended. He merely wished to note that Her Highness the Crown Princess is still young and lacks experience in state affairs..."
"...and to express our Church's earnest devotion—our wish to faithfully assist Her Highness in accordance with Your Majesty's will, and to contribute to the stability and prosperity of the Empire."
At Sera's cunning words, Valerius studied her for a moment, but he did not argue further and simply nodded.
"...Very well. Enough for now—you have all been worn out by a long journey. Take your rest until this evening's banquet."
After the audience concluded, the crowd began to disperse, still reeling from the shock of the Emperor's bombshell.
Logan wanted to escape the turmoil and find some quiet time to think. Without telling anyone, he tried to slip quietly out of the Audience Chamber.
But someone blocked his path.
"Logan! Wait, look at me!"
It was Irene. Her face held not only the anger from before but an urgency as well.
Irene reached to grab his arm, but Logan instinctively stepped back.
In his gesture lay a clear, unmistakable rejection—a refusal to allow her touch any longer.
"...Was there something you wanted to say?"
At Logan's cold response, Irene's chest seized for a moment. Eyes brimming with tears, she began to plead with him, as if she had been truly wronged in some unbearable way.
"What... what is wrong with you? We never had any problems before! Why do you keep acting like this!? I'm really struggling, Logan..!"
"Ha...! No problems, you say?"
Logan let out a hollow laugh.
Did she truly know nothing? Or was she pretending not to?
Did she genuinely have no intention of showing him even the slightest consideration or respect?
"Irene, I'm... tired now. So I can't anymore..."
Before Logan could even finish, Rian came over and wrapped an arm around Irene's shoulders.
"Irene, what's the matter? Oh—Logan! There's a celebration banquet tonight, and you're obviously coming, right?"
Rian asked with an innocent face, as if he truly knew nothing. And the moment Rian appeared, Irene stopped pressing Logan and latched onto him again.
"Rian... Logan keeps..."
"Haha, Logan's probably just tired! It's fine—come to the banquet, eat something delicious, have some fun, and you'll feel right as rain in no time! Right, Logan? See you at the banquet!"
Without even waiting for Logan's answer, Rian turned toward the noble daughters around them who were gazing at him with admiring eyes.
Irene wanted to talk with Logan more, but she couldn't leave Rian alone among all those other women, and hurried after him.
"...."
Logan watched them go for a moment, then quietly turned and left.
It was only one more confirmation that there was no longer any reason to cling to what they'd had.
Logan made his way out of the sprawling palace and arrived at a small garden in the secluded Rear Garden, far from any foot traffic.
The cool sound of the fountain and the delicate scent of flowers seemed, for a little while, to cool the turmoil in his head. He sat on a bench, closed his eyes, and sank into deep thought.
The vision of the future. His relationship with Irene. And Anastasia.
It was all tangled together in a hopeless knot, and he had no idea where to begin unraveling it.
Just then, soft footsteps approached him. He opened his eyes slowly, and there stood Anastasia. She seemed to hesitate a little, but soon she sat down carefully beside him.
"...I knew I'd find you here."
Anastasia spoke quietly. There was a warmth of consolation in her voice.
"The Emperor's decision... it startled you, didn't it?"
Logan shook his head.
"No. If anything... I think it's a good thing. You are more than worthy of it, Your Highness."
At Logan's sincere words, a faint smile crossed Anastasia's face.
"Thank you, Logan. Hearing you say that... gives me a little strength."
A silence settled between them. Awkward, but not uncomfortable. Gathering his courage, Logan spoke first.
"Hey... Anya."
At the endearment, at Logan's gentle, tender voice, Anastasia's shoulders trembled involuntarily. She looked at him with startled eyes.
"I think... I've been thinking only of myself this whole time. I may have... hurt you deeply. I'm truly... sorry."
At Logan's sudden apology, Anastasia was momentarily at a loss for words. She thought he had absolutely no reason to apologize to her.
If anything, she was the one who owed him everything. If she had dragged him along to the Imperial Palace that day, even against his will, she could have pulled him away from that wretched woman and his suffering that much sooner.
But she had left him alone, telling herself it was for his heart's sake—and because of that, he had suffered that much longer.
And not only that—she had gained from him not just her life, but a warmth she had never once known in all her years before.
Perhaps that alone was what had let her hold on until this very day.
"No, Logan... you never did anything wrong to me. If anything, it's I who... received far too much from you."
Moisture welled in Anastasia's eyes. Her voice shook as she went on.
"Because of you, I... found the hope to live again. So please... don't make that face. When I see you hurting... it hurts my heart so much."
At her heartfelt consolation, it felt as if a frozen corner of Logan's heart was melting, warm and slow.
Without realizing it, he found himself reaching out toward Anastasia. He wanted to wipe away her tears, to tell her thank you, that he was all right.
And at that very moment—
"What do you two think you're doing over there!!!"
With a piercing cry, Irene came charging into the garden. Her face was utterly twisted with rage and jealousy.