That It Could Remain (7)

By now the Inquisitor and Deathbringer would have heard the whole story. They would have been told, in full, that I had cried.

I pressed my fingers to my eyes, turning the fact over again. There was no way to tell where, exactly, everything had gone wrong.

"Should I have gotten ahead of it…?"

Should I have asked them, beforehand, to keep the part about me crying a secret?

But it was a little ridiculous to make that kind of request when I hadn't even imagined anyone would ask. And there was a certain child among them who would have forgotten the promise the moment it left her mouth.

"Or maybe I should have just…"

So—should I have slipped out the back the second those three left, jumped down, and paid a visit first? Someone will come asking soon, so when they do, please just keep the part where I cried a secret—something like that?

"…Ah, forget it. How was I supposed to predict any of this."

…Even for me, that was too much crazy imagination.

Rather than cling to something impossible, I just threw it all away. Holding on wouldn't turn back the clock, and it wouldn't make any of this unhappen either.

If it couldn't be undone, I would take it with a humble attitude. That, at least, was less stressful.

"…Still. I kind of want to hope a little."

It was the less stressful option—but the human heart didn't cut that cleanly.

I let a quiet hope swell, just a little.

Just in case. If I were truly, absurdly lucky.

If those people were so intelligent and considerate.

If they left out the fact that I had cried when they told the story…?

That was the hope.

"As if."

One second of thought made it obvious that would never happen.

Sure, they hadn't brought it up for fun—but these were people who would tell a stranger, on first meeting, even about their nephew's past. People like that forgetting that I had cried? Unlikely.

No hope. All that remained was chaos.

"They're not going to drag the demon issue out again, right?"

The Demon Knight cried?! That man is made of nothing but blood. Therefore the tears were a demon's! Crocodile tears!—something like that.

Or they would recite everything I had said with terrifyingly perfect recall, and it would go: You thought he could talk that long?! You thought he could use honorifics?! That was the demon after all!—something like that.

The fear that the story would go that way sat heavy in me. Especially the part where, if it did, I would have no way to answer it.

"…Hell. Seriously."

I scowled again at the unexpected turn of events, then laid a hand over my eyes. Just trying to measure the fallout was enough to make my head throb already.

"…I'll just sleep."

In the end, I took emergency measures.

Agonizing now would only tangle my thoughts further and double the irritation. Better to sleep deeply and come up with a plan with a clear head. Besides, there was no way to solve this right this second anyway.

And I even had something that made that possible.

In reality, wanting to sleep wouldn't have meant I could—closing my eyes would have only woken my brain with a rising gradient of rage whispering no, but that first—but here, I only had to press the sleep-system button and it was done.

I thought it every time: the sleep system was truly divine.

If I ever got to take one thing back to reality, I wanted this, I told myself, and opened the system.

For a moment, the still-raucous noise of the tavern drifted past my ear.

"I may be a freeloading husband, but I love you, Cleore! And I love my little darling Clara! Thank you for being born my child!!"

"Wahahaha! Hitting the drinks the second postpartum recovery ends?!"

"Look at Cleore! She's the one who's the mother here! Who's the mother, huh?!"

"Ah, who cares! We're drinking to celebrate Clara's birth!"

At the same time, my vision sank into darkness. Darkness that gathered and pooled like a curtain of rain.

"Why is this machine so…"

"I'm trying…"

"Keep your voices down… the kid can hear…"

Through the slightly open door, my parents' voices came murmuring back and forth.

I must still have had the habit from my days living alone, when there was no one else around so I never bothered to shut the door properly. Now that I was back at my parents' house, I really needed to fix that.

"Is it far?"

"Just wait. This is, well… does it go in here…?"

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

Separately, the two of them seemed to be working on something…

Normally, the moment they got stuck they would call me for help. Today they didn't seem much inclined.

I stood quietly by the door and eavesdropped on their conversation.

My focus was already broken. Whether they would call me, and if not, how the two of them would manage—I wanted to watch the process through.

"All the scenarios are like this, aren't they."

"…I only ever look at the scenarios. Not this kind of thing."

"Ugh."

"Ahem. Still, I got it right this time. Look."

"Is this really right…?"

But what were they actually doing?

I opened the door a little wider. Luckily, neither of them noticed.

"No, look—it says webtoon right here. Web. Toon. Isn't that it?"

"It does seem like that… but are all of these comics?"

Webtoons…? Why were webtoons coming up?

I froze. I had never imagined that the material I was considering for a new career path would surface here. Especially since neither of them had ever shown any interest in comics.

"There's so many…"

"There really are."

People who had never cared about comics at all—why were they suddenly like this?

I couldn't hide my confusion as I leaned harder into the conversation.

"Which one's the most popular?"

"Hmm… there's so many, it's hard to…"

"Just pick one of the ones at the top."

"Okay, hold on…"

Between them, they somehow managed to find a popular comic. I couldn't see the screen, but from the conversation it sounded like they had simply grabbed one of the ones listed at the top.

"Have a look."

"Just a second…"

More than that—what wind had gotten into them? Had they gotten curious because I said I wanted to make webcomics?

"…Hmm."

"…Mmm."

I fidgeted, curious about what they were looking at.

Judging by the way their brows kept drawing tighter in the gap of the door, though, they hadn't picked a particularly good one.

"…Maybe I've just gotten too old."

"I know young people like… well, stimulating things, but… this is…"

What on earth had they picked? Had they managed to land on an adult comic?

I scratched my head, already dreading the idea of having to check the search history later.

"…Honey."

"Yes. Go on."

"I want to support everything he wants to do, but… even so. This—this might be something we should talk him out of, don't you think?"

Then, for a second—I realized a storm cloud might be gathering over the career path I had only just found. A chill ran down my spine.

"…Well. Still, if the kid wants to do it…"

"The content is just a little too…"

"I've shot a few crime films myself. Movies differ by genre, so comics should be the same, right?"

"But those go through censorship. This has no age restriction, and it seems far too easy to access…"

"Let's just leave it for now. And… you know our kid. There's no way he'd draw something like this."

"…Right?"

Thankfully, Dad held the line. The phrase there's no way he'd draw something like this was a little sad, but still.

I let out a quiet breath of relief.

"Still, just in case… should we ask?"

"Yes, yes. That would be better."

At those words I hurriedly closed the door. Of course I couldn't let them know I had been listening, so I was as careful as I could not to make a sound.

Once the door was fully shut, I bolted for the chair. The reference sheets I'd laid out for gesture practice were shoved aside, and the half-finished drawing was on the desk in an instant.

Knock knock.

Right on cue, a knock came.

"Come in."

I pretended to set down the pencil I was holding and spun the chair around. Mom and Dad were just opening the door.

"Son, there's something I wanted to ask you…"

"Yes."

"About that job you said you wanted… You don't only draw… cruel pictures like this… right?"

As she spoke, she held out her electronic tablet. On it was a comic that had only barely scraped under the adult rating.

The content was immoral, centered on the pleasure-driven violence of a young protagonist.

People used to that sort of thing might have shrugged it off, but for the two of them—who weren't familiar with comics, and especially for Mom, who cared a great deal about children's rights—it was extremely provocative material.

"…Not all of them are like that. Don't worry."

There were plenty of slice-of-life comics and romance comics, and of all things they had to land on this…

I let out a hollow laugh as I eased their worries. When I showed them a few examples, the grim expressions on both their faces finally loosened—but that's another story.

"See?"

"Ahem… Right. Of course."

Truly, it had been a ridiculous day.

…Aside from the minor problem that the genre I was aiming for was a fantasy crime drama.

"Sorry for barging in and saying all that out of nowhere."

"It's fine."

I scratched the back of my neck, already worrying about whether I would have to hide the work I planned to draw.

"Son."

After Mom left first, Dad stopped and spoke to me before following her out. His face, grown more composed with age, held a faint smile.

"Even when she talks like that… the one who will support you if you say you truly want to do it is your mother. You know that, right?"

"…Of course."

"That said, don't just go drawing nothing but cruel pictures. Something that's only brutal and sensational, with no narrative and no meaning…"

"Isn't a work at all. It's just something chasing stimulation. I know."

"Good. I figured you'd understand."

And if the outline of that standard seemed a little blurred—was that my imagination?

"Hang in there. Like I said last time, Dad will always support you. Mom too. We're always on your side."

And if, even so, his kindness felt as deep as the sea—then that was.

"Yes."

I managed a smile, reluctantly.

I couldn't cry over love. Not again.

"Ah."

Yesterday, and again when I woke today—why did waking always feel so unsettled?

Caught between the sense that I had dreamed and the sense that I hadn't, I pushed myself up. Today was the day we left for the next city; dawdling was not an option.

Sssk. A hand rose unconsciously to my eyes and wiped away the dampness.

"Let's go."

Hiiing!

I didn't much feel like eating. I checked out as I was and went to fetch Frederick. Up since before dawn, Frederick's coat shone sleek under the stablehand's care.

"Thank you! Please come again!"

I left the stablehand happily pocketing his tip and headed for the meeting point.

For reference, this was the first time I would be seeing the party since that first night. No one had come looking for me after that—whether the matter with the inquisitor who had come for me and his family had been resolved or not.

"I am sorry for what happened then."

Ah. I take back ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the part about no visitors. Not the party—but that same inquisitor had come back.

How he knew I meant to leave on this day, at this hour, I had no idea. Maybe he had heard it from the others?

"I also apologize that my apology comes late. With the help of others I managed to strip away the things that had been covering my eyes, but… I still needed time to think. I have no excuse. I am truly sorry."

Still—what was done was done. Rather than wonder how he had found me, I focused on his apology. The odd feeling that came with listening to it was a bonus.

I hadn't particularly expected an apology after that. If I had been in his place, I would have moved much the same way.

"An apology is unnecessary."

"…Even if it is unnecessary to you, I will still offer it. That is the right thing to do."

So even if I could still feel dumbfounded at the insane coincidence, the malice the inquisitor had shown was already forgotten…

I wondered if all inquisitors carried this kind of stubbornness, and discarded the last of my resentment with it. The feeling was rather decent.

Prrrk.

"Hold it."

Well… Frederick didn't seem to agree. He appeared to have recognized the man who had tried to attack him. Clever as ever, that one.

"Um… it's small, but this is a gift of apology."

The other man seemed to notice that Frederick disliked him; he watched carefully as he held out his hand. A round wooden cask.

"Unnecessary—"

"My aunt and uncle insisted I deliver it. If you don't wish to accept it as my apology, then please accept it as their gift."

And now he was playing the unrefusable card?

"…If I take it back as it is, my little cousin will be disappointed as well."

And a follow-up strike on top of that?

My face twisted as I snatched what the inquisitor held out. Through the leather, the wooden cask was still warm.

"It's a packed lunch. If you've already had breakfast, it will do well enough for midday."

I had already packed lunch, but… it seemed today's midday meal had just been decided for me. I put the lunchbox into my inventory.

At its sudden disappearance, the man's brows twitched. Once he seemed to grasp the existence of magic, his expression settled again.

"Is there more business?"

More importantly—why was he still here. I had received the apology. Did he still have something to say?

"…I heard you specialize in hunting demons. I also heard you have slain a great many of them."

At ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my irritable response, the inquisitor asked carefully. Was he about to start another round of demon this, demon that? My eyes sharpened.

"If you have ever met a demon that commands black fire, and whose voice is that of a child…"

But it didn't seem to be that kind of conversation.

The inquisitor, still speaking, squeezed his eyes shut hard.

"Have you ever encountered a demon whose speech wanders and breaks?"

It was an abrupt question. Or rather—it would have felt that way if I hadn't heard what I heard the day before yesterday.

"…Not that I recall."

He seemed to be searching for the one who had killed his parents, so part of me wanted to give him the most thorough, honest answer I could. But I couldn't be sure whether the Demon Knight before me had ever caught such a thing or not.

I offered only an answer that wasn't a lie. The inquisitor's expression went a little hollow. "I see…" The emptiness didn't last long, though.

"Then… if you should ever meet a demon with those traits… and if you should kill it—would you please keep something that proves that demon, and send it to me?"

I felt bad putting it this way given his circumstances, but… no matter how you looked at it, this was a quest.

"I know it is a shameless request. But… I beg you. Even if I cannot avenge my parents with my own hands, I want at least the proof that it is dead."

No. I really shouldn't have been making that kind of joke about a situation like this.

I fought down the urge to slap my own forehead under the weight of guilt and self-loathing, and focused on him.

"In my heart I want to kill it myself, but I cannot bring myself to ask you to leave a demon alone… Ah—of course, if you dislike it, please treat this request as if it never happened. I am not forcing you."

I would do it. I wanted to, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠if only out of apology.

On top of that, it was something my concept could allow. If it had been someone with no will to fight, that would be one thing—but he wanted the revenge himself and was still accounting for the possibility that I might take it first, and asking me on that basis.

It cost me nothing, and at this level, it was a request I could grant.

"Leave. If you have nothing more to say."

But I would not say it kindly. I took Frederick's reins and walked forward.

The heretic inquisitor's mouth opened slightly, then he bowed at the waist in greeting.

"Once more, I apologize… and I pray that the blessings of the gods go with you, Adventurer."

Compared to our first meeting, it was a rather decent parting.

My steps lightened as I left the inn, and I made for the place we had agreed on.

"Demon Knight!"

And when I arrived, a new problem presented itself.

"I will… I will try harder! So that you may lean on me, Demon Knight! So that you need not grieve alone—I will grow stronger! Please look forward to it!"

Right… of course they hadn't left out the part where I cried. And of course that was why she was saying this. I understood that perfectly well.

"I will never give up!"

In that same spirit, I steeled myself as well.

From now on I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠would keep the concept perfectly, even in front of passing strangers. From now on I would absolutely, absolutely never cry again. Got it?