Filled with Anguish (8)

Cheongsanho watched the one they called the Demon Knight whirl around. A splash. At the same moment, something only he could see surged outward. Over the clear night sky, a storm-lashed ocean surface layered itself into view.

"So you've decided you're willing to talk."

Cheongsanho settled onto the outer robe his escort had spread for him and rolled the blanket he'd brought into a makeshift backrest. It didn't feel like much of a support, but it was better than nothing.

"Up we go."

Even that small movement was hard labor for his body. He drew a few ragged breaths. A metallic clank — in that span of time, the other man had already pressed himself nearly flush against the iron bars.

Above the young man with ash-gray hair on one side, a withering wildflower flickered into sight for an instant. It carried a thick foreignness, as though announcing it did not belong to this world.

"Just now… what did you……"

"What did I say, you ask."

Cheongsanho observed it quietly as he drew an object from his robes. It was an item that, once a range was set, absorbed all sound within that range and made it resonate only inside the boundary.

In other words, the soldiers and knights outside that range could not hear their conversation even if they died and came back to life. A precaution, just in case.

"I said you were a precious soul from another world. An innocent person who shouldn't be treated like this."

There was nothing left to be careful of, then.

Cheongsanho set the item down on the floor and carefully continued his breathing. An ocean born of a single person's pooled tears swallowed his labored breaths in his place. A sea that existed and was visible only in his sight.

"Was what I saw wrong?"

"……"

The sensation of being submerged in the ocean while still standing on solid ground was a truly strange one.

And yet, if asked whether it was unpleasant — it was not. Cheongsanho watched his confused counterpart with his lips slightly parted and raised a hand.

The sorrow flowing between his fingers was terribly salty and bitter.

"Were you a soul native to this place?"

And yet at the same time it was warm, and it was comforting.

Just as the ocean of the womb one must pass through to be born is warm, just as the arms that embrace a grieving person are tender. Everything that wrapped around the skin was simply full of grace.

"…No."

So there was no room for worry, and no room even to imagine otherwise.

"No."

A person who had built a great sea from tears shed for others was not going to be swept away by something as petty as anger — not now.

"I'm not from this place……"

The one called the Demon Knight burst into tears all at once. In that moment, the ocean grew deeper still.

"…Just as I thought."

Watching him, Cheongsanho lamented as well.

He had half expected it, and precisely because of that, a part of him had still hoped for a denial. If that young man were truly from another world, there would not be a single reason he should have to endure such suffering in this land.

"Just as I thought."

But the truth that had finally come to light was this. It scraped roughly at Cheongsanho's chest. And because the reason he stood here was to ask for yet another sacrifice, the roughness cut all the deeper.

Cheongsanho's mouth pressed into a hollow line.

"I — I'm not from this place, and yet……"

The one mercy was that some forms of mourning are accomplished simply by keeping silence and sharing warmth.

So Cheongsanho held his place and listened carefully to the young man who wept so bitterly.

The wildflower — a common field flower that, with a little botanical knowledge, one would recognize as a chickweed — streamed endless tears from between its withered petals. The spirit-tears of an ordinary person who should have remained ordinary.

"Ahk……"

"Tsk."

The grief of a truly ordinary person who never should have had to face something like this.

"Have you finished crying? If you're done, I'd like to tell you why I came."

"……"

And yet to someone like this, he would once again have to make a cruel request.

"…Tell me you'll live. That you will definitely live."

To save more people.

For the sake of this world.

…And perhaps, for your sake as well.

Cheongsanho's mouth felt as though thorns had sprouted inside it.

"…Why?"

"That's……"

"Why?"

"……"

It would hurt less if my old internal injuries simply flared up and put me flat on my back.

Cheongsanho bit his lip as he looked at that face, so bitterly wet it shone. Part of him wanted to take the words back and claim his tongue had simply run wild on its own.

"Because if you… if you die now, there is a high chance the demon will burst out in your place."

But that was impossible. What this sea of sorrow held was not only that humble soul.

"For the record, this proposal is not based on anything the demon said. This is… a story I'm telling based only on the truth I witnessed with my own eyes."

Cheongsanho lowered his gaze and observed what the ocean was hiding.

In the deep places of that sea, which became visible once the earth of reality was wiped away, there remained a net that had branched from a single thread and spread like a spiderweb — and, veiled behind that net so that it was hard to see, a clump of pitch-black chains. Another soul dwelling in this body.

"You are the weight holding the demon down. Absolute, for now — and likely to remain so for a long time."

And at the center of the chains forged from a soul, there was a flame ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that refused to go out even submerged in the great sea — a flame that could at any moment leap from this ocean and burn the surface world to ash.

There was no need to guess the identity of a flame that burned with every resentment, hatred, loathing, and accusation in the world as its firewood. That was the demon.

That thing — which even after one being had staked their own soul to bind it with chains of contract still could not be controlled, and so had forced yet another person to be brought here — that was almost certainly the Great Demon of Wrath.

"So I… want you not to die. Because if the demon you're suppressing rises to the surface, we will once again have to witness something terrible."

What would happen if something like that cast off every restraint and emerged into the world? Would they not go beyond merely witnessing something terrible and arrive at outright annihilation?

Cheongsanho could not stop that thought. This shameless request had, in the end, begun from there.

The future of ruin was far too plain to simply accept.

"…So that's why — that's why you're asking me not to die? Me, of all people?"

But at his words, the other man only laughed, wretchedly.

"And that, when everyone else is wishing for my death?"

…It wasn't hard to understand. Though Cheongsanho had never personally witnessed him fight, one only had to recall the surrounding people's testimony and the situation as it had unfolded to know it could never have been an easy battle.

And the problems after rising from the ordeal were no smaller. After fighting a grueling battle, instead of praise he had been treated as a criminal, and the people around him were talking of execution. Anyone would feel wronged.

"…I understand people's choice. So I won't resent them either. Humans are that sort of animal, after all — I never expected anything of them in the first place, so I won't hope for anything either."

But to swallow even that sense of injustice and still reveal disappointment toward humanity……

"That doesn't mean I want to stay alive and endure their stares. I — I've endured enough. I really, I truly……"

Cheongsanho reconsidered whether it was truly possible, as a human being, to love this much without placing any expectations on people — and whether it was right to make such a request of someone so exhausted that even that love could no longer hold them up.

But he could not know the answer. What he could see was only the essence of the world; the future belonged to the realm of conjecture.

"…If what pains you is that every human around you is forcing death upon you, that is something I can resolve."

And so Cheongsanho swallowed dryly and continued speaking.

Is this right? Who knows. But setting the greater good aside, leaving a soul this radiant to fade away alone could not be the right thing either.

"It was far too weighty a matter to declare without your permission, so I've kept my mouth shut until now — but I do hold cards that can persuade them."

Fortunately, with one soul serving as the primary restraint ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠through the contract, and another brought in as a weight, the chance of the demon breaking free had become nearly nonexistent.

In other words, the argument that the Demon Knight must be executed out of fear the demon would run wild could be thoroughly refuted.

"Of course, I can't erase their hostility completely. It will only be soothed to a degree, most likely. In the worst case… your survival alone may be guaranteed, while the contemptuous looks remain just as they are."

The minor problem was — yes. If he made this public, the Temple would probably seize on the contract and dig in their heels.

Since the soul serving as the weight was not a party to the contract, using the status of 'contractor' as an excuse to oppress him seemed like a stretch… but one never knew. The Temple's lack of flexibility was not a matter of a day or two.

"That's also why I didn't speak carelessly and waited for you to wake."

But he thought it too precious an opportunity to abandon out of fear of that. All the more so because he was not simply demanding that the young man endure for everyone else's sake.

"In exchange… whatever else I may or may not manage, this much alone I can promise. If you agree to live and endure, then for as long as that takes, I will devote every power I have to returning you to the place you belong."

"……!"

If only this one would hold on, he would pour every effort into the return of this soul.

"…Return me? Me? Home……?"

"I won't give you a firm answer. I'm a mage, after all."

He had tools he could use for the young man's sake as well. Among the magics he'd recently developed, was there not one that filtered and purified impurity — Demon Energy — and extracted it as mana?

"But I can at least promise that I will do my utmost."

Of course, that wouldn't solve everything. Even if that magic ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠were applied to this body, the most that would happen was a neutralization of the demon — and even that neutralization itself was uncertain to succeed.

And even if, by some chance, the demon were neutralized, that would still be a problem. Neutralizing the demon only meant this body could be killed without worrying about the aftermath — it did not mean the return of this soul.

"What I'm saying is that I will stake my entire name and honor to help you break through the contract of the two beings who dragged you into this world, so that you can return home unharmed."

Moreover, there was a measure of risk attached to this as well. Indeed — if the demon were neutralized, what would become of the contract that demon had previously held?

If it persisted, they would break even; if it was voided, it became a gamble. Because when a contract was voided, no one knew whether the soul bound to that contract would return or remain tethered to this world.

The same held true if the demon went beyond neutralization and died. Cheongsanho had no intention of gambling with this soul, which had already poured out more effort than anyone.

"I apologize that I cannot give you a definitive 'certainly.' But my word that I will try is by no means empty—"

But if he were given time — if he were given time to devise a safer method — he would find a way somehow.

"…Wait. Two beings? A contract?"

He fully intended to do so, one way or another.

"…So you truly didn't know the contract existed?"

Cheongsanho drew a brief breath, then looked at the ring hanging upon the humble wildflower. The thread connected to that ring led into the net used to veil the pile of chains.

In other words, it suppressed this soul so it could not leave the sea. Even while doing nothing to stop it from wandering within the waters themselves.

"I don't know where to begin explaining."

How cruel a contract that was. Even if the purpose had been to imprison a demon, to use someone without telling them a single thing……

"Your body does not contain only a demon. There is the demon, the soul that contracted the demon and is suppressing it, and then you — for a total of……"

But that thought did not last long. Midway through his words, Cheongsanho's eyes flew wide and his mouth snapped shut.

You must not say it……!

A tear. A portion of the net veiling the sealed flame ripped open. The chains that had been imprisoning the demon's flame thrashed as though they would break free at any moment. Clink, clatter. The flame flicked its tongue between the links.

"Ah."

Something had gone wrong. Cheongsanho realized it. But it was already too late. Crack. The one who was ordinary yet extraordinary, selfless yet capable of selfishness, had already grasped a fragment of the truth.

Crack. The net tore a little further. The chains — the chains of the contract — began to show more clearly.

"So it was here."

At the same time, Demon Energy began to boil up from the Demon Knight's body. "What's going on!" — enough that a knight standing some distance away could sense something was amiss.

"It was here."

"…Hey."

"It was… right here, and yet……"

Fortunately, the net had not torn away completely. But was it truly a good sign that the contract, hidden until now, had begun to show itself to the outside?

Cheongsanho gazed at the soul that had been used without knowing a thing. Perhaps that… that ignorance……

"Great Sage!"

"Stop!"

Cheongsanho set aside the knight's call for the moment and reached a hand through the iron bars. It was fortunate the other man had come so close. He could rest a hand on his shoulder.

The blood that surged up from moving so abruptly was of little importance.

He coughed a dry cough, then whispered as though chewing the words.

"I misspoke. That just now — what I said……"

"If I follow your words."

But those words were cut short. The one with a flame darker than night clinging to his collar lifted his head and met Cheongsanho's eyes.

"Will I truly be able to go home?"

A trickle. Over cheeks that had already dried, a red liquid flowed.

"That's—"

"You called me a weight, didn't you. That if I were removed, the demon would run wild. In a situation like that, do you think other people would send me home? The same people who, even now, say that while I may be pitiful, executing me is the right thing because the demon is dangerous?"

"……"

"And even if every one of those obstacles is broken through and your uncertain research succeeds — how much time am I supposed to endure for that?"

There was no possible answer.

"Great Sage, step back!"

"…I don't want to."

From behind, a knight who had grasped the situation called out to him. But Cheongsanho could not answer that knight's cry.

"I don't want to do that."

"Jack, the bell—!"

Shhhk!

The prison bars were sheared through, and at the same moment the torch stands that had been casting their gloomy light nearby were cut down and scattered across the floor. The makeshift bell was the same. The sound of thin metal striking the ground rang out. "What in the—!" Soldiers and knights showed their shock.

"I'm sick to death of being dragged around by other people's circumstances."

In that span of time, Cheongsanho coughed from a body that had been shoved sprawling by the other man's sudden rise. The other man flinched, then reached a hand toward him.

The touch that propped up his back so the blood would not block his throat was remarkably gentle.

"I'm grateful for your goodwill. But please understand."

The voice murmured as soft as a whisper was much the same. Cheongsanho, coughing blood, caught hold of the one supporting him. It was an act done without thinking, so clear was the knowledge that the other would not harm him.

"I've done enough, and now I want to go."

And for that very reason — because the other was a person who would never harm him — he let go of the hand again.

"…Yes. Of course you would."

In truth, Cheongsanho as a Great Sage judged that he should not let the Demon Knight go now. With most of the factions already sharpening their blades toward him, if he simply walked off on his own, the probability that he would be confirmed as an enemy was high.

And was that all? The demon he carried, the value he held, the situation that would remain once only the demon was left after this young man was gone — there were far too many reasons to hold him. Whether by persuading him to accept the proposal or by appealing to that young man's soft heart, as a Great Sage he had to keep him somehow.

"I shouldn't stand in the way of that."

But what of Cheongsanho as a human being?

A person dragged here without knowing why, who had endured every kind of hardship, saying he no longer wanted to be entangled in other people's affairs — that he would now find a way home for himself.

When someone says that, can you truly stop them?

Instead of that uncertain method, instead of waiting for a situation where everyone would stand in the way — saying he would leave to find a more certain path. Could you truly stop that?

"Great Sage Cheongsan—!"

Snap.

"Guhhk."

"……!?"

No. He could not.

"The people—"

"Cough!"

Setting everything else aside, he could not do that to the benefactor who had saved his grandson.

"…You."

"…It's just the backlash from using sleep magic. Cough. No need to worry… it's not enough to kill me. And they haven't died either… they've simply fallen asleep."

It felt like dying, but he wouldn't die.

After confirming that the knight and soldiers had collapsed — damn it, he'd included his own escort in the range — he let out a long breath. Blood interfered a little with his breathing, producing a phlegmy rattle.

"Why… would you use magic to the point of coughing blood……"

Still, at least they had prepared the Demon Knight's prison at the outskirts in case of a disturbance. The fact that they hadn't properly set up a perimeter out of insufficient resources was likewise fortunate now.

With the guards dealt with, this should be more than enough for an escape.

"Because I cannot hold captive a soul as noble as yours."

"You didn't need to give me this kind of help — I would have been fine……!"

And even in the middle of all this, this young man was worrying about him? Did a person really need to be this kind?

"It is not enough."

Well — it was because he was this sort of person that he had been brought here as a card to press down a demon.

"Considering what this world has received from you, a favor this small couldn't even begin to repay it."

Ah, and hadn't the demon said as much? That his devotion and sacrifice would be ignored?

"Even so… from this day forward, many will point fingers at you. Knowing nothing, they will trample your sincerity and turn your efforts into something worthless."

Yes. That much could no longer be denied. Those who did not know the truth and had no intention of learning it would now freely condemn and antagonize him.

"But… in the name of Surging Cheongsanho, I declare this. You are a hero comparable to the Hero — and perhaps a savior greater still than the Hero."

But he, at least, would look the true truth in the face.

"At the very least, I will never forget that for as long as I live."

Who had sacrificed on this land, who had striven so hard, who had extended such goodwill toward people who had nothing to do with him… he would remember it forever.

"For your devotion — my thanks."

"…Ah."

"…I wish you could have been friends with my grandson."

Come to think of it, that brat had been particularly attentive to the Demon Knight. Yes. A person of this caliber was more than enough to catch even that personality-disaster of a grandson's attention.

"…There's nothing good that would come of making someone like me a friend."

"You're wrong. If anything, it would be a waste not to. He's my grandson, but beyond his abilities, that boy has nothing worth looking at."

If someone weren't captivated by a soul this beautiful, that would be that person's problem.

"…Well, enough. You should go now. Dragging this out any longer won't do any good. The sleep magic… ha. Won't last long."

"…Thank you."

"Are you thanking me……? When the one who should truly be grateful… is me……"

"But if it hadn't been for you, I might never have known this truth until the end."

Yes. If one's heart did not move even before a noble exemplar like this.

"So of course I have to thank you."

If one's heartstrings did not tremble at the sight of someone so good it made the chest ache.

"…I will definitely go home."

If one's head did not spin before someone who, having received no recognition for their labors, having gained only a single person's understanding, could still smile so brightly.

That would truly be that person's problem.

"Yes. You must go."

"…Yes."

Cheongsanho smiled hollowly, looking at the one who even now was helping him lie down comfortably. It wasn't a fatal wound, and he'd said there was no time — and still the kindness to the very end.

"I said get going already."

"I was about to leave just now."

"Liar… Ah, right. May I speak in your defense, by any chance?"

But thanks to it, looking at the sky was easy. Cheongsanho felt the soft blanket settle beneath him and drape over him, and lifted his head.

"In my defense……"

"I mean — may I tell others some of what I said earlier. Not to everyone. Only to those with the authority to decide your treatment."

"……"

He saw a chickweed in full bloom pierce through the seawater and launch a star into the sky — into that sky ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠above.

Flowers, stars, rose into the sky above the sea.

"No… please don't."

"Why not?"

"…I don't know. More importantly, I'm really going now."

Matching the places the chickweed left behind, like a river — majestically, densely, simply.

"Ahh."

As wildflowers do — tenaciously beyond measure — so they bloomed.

Thousands, tens of thousands of chickweed blossoms that had spread their petals through wind and rain softly illuminated the night.

"…A feast of light I could never see even in reality — and I am seeing it in a person."

If the ocean of tears this soul had woven had a name, it would be love; and the individual names of the chickweed stars the sea had launched upward would be affection.

"This is not how one should send someone off……"

In the arms of love, beneath that tenderness, he shed a small tear.

"May the blessing of the guiding star go with you."

The star that protects those who seek the path glittered.