If It Exists (2)

So she hadn't particularly meant to help me, was that it…? But was that really the case? I had only stepped in because they were getting on my nerves, and yet it just so happened to work out in my favor. Was that truly nothing more than coincidence?

Clatter!

"Pardon the interruption for a moment. Is there any chance that…"

While I was stuck nursing the inevitable suspicions that came with being a fugitive, the inn door swung open with more force than necessary. The newcomer was a Cueoty youth with broad, floppy ears drooping like a puppy's, a longsword cradled in his arms.

He was a little short—maybe still a teenager—but that hardly mattered. Whether he was a boy in his teens or a young man in his twenties, the silk of his clothes marked him as someone you did not casually mess with either way.

"Ah, Sir Knight!"

Apparently the newcomer and the woman who had just saved me already knew each other. The Cueoty youth's face lit up the moment he spotted the teal-haired woman.

She, on the other hand, did not particularly change her expression. Yet somehow a faint note of irritation and weariness seemed to cling to that painted-on smile of hers. Or so I guessed, at least.

"Sir Knight, how could you just leave ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠me behind like that!"

"Lower your voice, Jardin. It makes you look uncultured."

"Ugh. I—I'm sorry…"

"…Knight?"

Just as the innkeeper muttered under his breath, a rather problematic word had surfaced in their exchange.

"…K-Knight?"

I had already figured she was no ordinary person, but a knight? Really?

…There was nothing that even looked like a weapon on her—not at her waist, not on her back, not even strapped to a thigh or forearm.

"…I'm fucked."

"Shut up…"

I had already said my thanks, and there was nothing more for me to stick my nose into. I simply watched how things unfolded.

The adventurers who had been trying to pressure me seemed to be of the same mind. Overturning a table to insult her, or picking another fight because she had interrupted their little racket—they had clearly realized the other party was far too big a fish for that.

"But Sir Knight, if you had business, you could have at least left a word. When I came out of the shop and you weren't there, I nearly had a heart attack."

"Very well. I shall reconsider next time."

Well, with the word "knight" being tossed around that many times, it would have been stranger if anyone still failed to catch on.

"…So why did you come here, then?"

"I thought someone I know might be here."

"Hah? Really? Where are they?"

"It was only my imagination. Let us go."

"Ah—yes, ma'am."

Fortunately or not, the knight paid us ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠no further attention. The fact that the adventurers had almost picked a fight with her before realizing what she was received the same treatment.

She ignored us cleanly, as if even the time required for cleanup would be a waste—adventurers and myself alike.

Jingle.

Accompanied by the chime of the bell, the person who had stirred up the whole storm departed.

"So I wasn't found out…?"

If I truly had been recognized, things would not have ended this quietly. I was now a wanted criminal with a bounty on my head, and a real knight would have been obligated to seize me—or, even without any formal duty, would have had no reason to simply let a criminal walk free right under her nose.

And yet she had walked off without so much as a second glance? In the end, the most likely explanation was that she simply had not recognized me and had only lent a hand. Probably.

Even so… a strangely unpleasant, lingering unease remained.

"…Hmm."

After all, it was hardly common for a knight to go around helping random people, and for that person to just so happen to be me felt a little too convenient.

…Or was it? Was it common? I barely ever saw knights in the first place. Outside of meetings with city lords, I almost never ran into them, so I had no idea whether this kind of volunteer work was their usual habit or not.

"L-Let's go."

"Yeah."

Still, in my view, someone of a knight's standing would not casually walk into a shabby inn like this without a decent reason… and she had mentioned "someone she knew" earlier, too……. Hmm…….

Instead of picking any further fights, I merely glanced at the adventurers as they hurried out, cold sweat pouring down their faces—apparently leaving before the knight could change her mind and come back.

Had their provocation been pure coincidence as well, or something deliberate?

"Y-Young man."

What about the innkeeper, then?

"What about the food? Shall I bring more……?"

…I was letting my thoughts run too far.

I reeled my runaway paranoia back in. Even if I was a fugitive, distrusting everything to this degree was excessive.

"No, it's fine. I was almost finished anyway."

If I kept suspecting and distrusting at this level, I would turn into a full-blown paranoiac long before I successfully avoided any real danger. And if that happened, every single day would become exhausting beyond measure. Considering how many years this flight might drag on, that was a perfect way to shave years off my lifespan.

"I'll help clean up."

"Oh, no, there's no need……."

"I've got nothing but time right now. And I did freeload a meal. It's fine—go look after the other guests."

So unless I had solid evidence or clear circumstantial proof, I would refrain from wild speculation.

With that resolve, I set the table upright again and gathered the scattered dishes.

The innkeeper looked a little apologetic, but the pile of work waiting for him finally pulled him away. He still needed to squeeze payment out of the adventurers, and other customers were watching and waiting to order; he had little choice.

Clatter.

Never knowing when I might have to drop the Disguise skill, I always kept gloves on. Those gloved hands neatly stacked the pile of dishes and set them back on the table.

.

.

.

"At this rate I could try a hundred times and still never find him."

"Pardon?"

Meanwhile, out on the street the adventurers had fled in such a panic—

"I was not speaking to you."

"Ah—yes, ma'am."

"More importantly, Jardin. My sword."

"H-Here it is."

Whether the clueless brats behind her walked past or not was none of her concern. The teal-haired knight simply took the sword he offered and lifted it.

An heirloom left by the previous knight-commander, and a blade specially crafted for people like her—those who could never become mages yet possessed far too much mana for a knight—Bernstein still shone with its own soft, undimmed radiance.

"But why the sword all of a sudden……."

"That is a strange question."

The amber blade was subtle and deep, like a fire just beginning to catch in the kindling—transparent rather than refracting light, letting it pass cleanly through.

"Does a knight require a reason or explanation simply to inspect their own sword?"

"I—I'm sorry……."

It was not to her personal taste, but it was undeniably beautiful. With that idle thought, Emerald slid the blade back into its scabbard.

The 1.3-meter blade—forged without any consideration for whoever might inherit it after its 1.9-meter predecessor—slid smoothly into the wooden sheath.

"Th-Then… about what you said earlier… is that really true?"

"…What do you mean?"

"Earlier… you said it was just your imagination…"

In the meantime her attendant—who had also been granted the rank of squire—hesitated and asked another question. The boy dreamed of becoming a knight and worked hard at it, yet somehow never managed to lose any weight; every time he acted like this he looked endearingly round and puppy-like.

"Was that statement so strange as to become a problem?"

"No, not that… it's just that you, Sir Knight, almost never make mistakes like that, so……."

"That much is true."

"…May I ask who that acquaintance was?"

Yet the way he kept asking questions without reading the room no matter how many times she rebuked him, and the way he paid her so much attention, still managed to get on her nerves.

Emerald quietly looked down at her attendant. When her jade-green gaze lingered on him, Jardin hid his trembling eyes by lowering his head.

"If I overstepped, I apologize……."

"Good. As long as you understand."

She shoved the sheathed sword back into Jardin's hands and began walking again.

"Lady Emerald!"

Before long someone came running from the far end of the street. The matching uniform, the spear in hand, and the emblem embroidered on the clothes all identified the man as one of the city's guards.

"We have found a lead on the demon."

"Ah. So you found one?"

"Finally!"

The soldier's breathless report drew different reactions from her and from Jardin.

Jardin's was particularly loud; Emerald did not bother to restrain it. It still fell short of her standards of virtue, but even pointing that out to her attendant felt like too much trouble.

"If we have a lead, then we should be able to catch the demon soon, right, Sir Knight?"

"Who can say? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠That remains to be seen."

"But you're a Chief Knight, after all."

More than anything, the news that a demon had been located was rather welcome to her as well. The reason she had come to this bothersome, tedious, filthy village in the first place—and the reason her field assignment had dragged on so long—was at least half that demon's fault.

"Once we catch this one, the dispatch mission will be completely over… and after a whole year we can finally go back to Munmunt."

"Enough. I held my tongue and now your carelessness is trying to pierce the heavens. Or have you suddenly decided you want to try hunting it yourself?"

"Ah… I—I'm sorry."

She cast her mind back over the year she had spent on the traditional knight-exchange program between the two academies, Chechebator and Munmunt.

Originally she should have returned to the city of Munmunt a full two weeks ago… but that damned lord of Manahfelt had decided that, since she was leaving anyway, she might as well do him one last favor and dumped an outside mission on her. Even though circumstances had forced her to volunteer for it half against her will, the fact remained.

"And you—guide us at once."

"Y-Yes, ma'am!"

Someday that lord—and whoever had forced her into a position where volunteering was her only option—would pay the price for their choices.

A knight who had been saddled with someone else's work without travel expenses or field allowances quietly closed her hand around her sword.

Permission to meet Cheongsanho had finally been granted.

Thus Meister, faced with the long-awaited approval, immediately started wondering, "What's gotten into those temple bastards?" and "Are these fuckers trying to run a sting operation on us?" It was the sort of thought any mage would have reached easily.

"What is it?"

"If you're going to come in, then come all the way in. Why are you hovering in the doorway like that?"

Yet contrary to his expectations, the temple made no attempt to eavesdrop on their conversation, nor to use anything they heard as leverage against them.

Meister's brow furrowed.

"I was wondering if the idiots were being idiots again."

"And a guy who thinks like that still crawls in here?"

"What about you, old man? Did you end up locked up in here because you're so damn competent?"

Good. Judging by the way the old man was talking, there really did not seem to be any surveillance tools around.

Still, better safe than sorry. Meister decided to keep a careful rein on his mouth so that nothing unnecessary slipped out. Meanwhile Cheongsanho, who had little else to say, turned his body with a soft sigh.

"They say he will be leaving soon."

"Is that so?"

Even though the subject of the sentence had been omitted, there was no reason not to understand. Meister instantly grasped who was being referred to and raised an eyebrow.

"And?"

"I thought you would follow them."

"Me?"

On top of that, he made no effort to hide the dubious look that crossed his face at the next words. Him? Follow them? Why?

"…Seems the boy misjudged you."

"Did ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Archmage say that?"

"Yes."

"Hmm."

In truth the misunderstanding was not that far off. It was not as though he had never considered joining their journey.

But not following them was better for him than following them. To put it a little more precisely, the reasons to stay outweighed the reasons to leave.

That was why he had given up on traveling with them.

"…Is it because of me?"

"Half of it."

"And the other half?"

"Battery research and commissions?"

After all, looking after his grandfather was one issue, but he had a fair number of other matters piled up as well. Things like the battery research that had received a sudden spark of inspiration from this whole incident, or the re-crafting of the commissioned items that had evaporated because of it.

"If that's all, then go with them."

"……?"

"…You heard about the oracle as well, I take it."

"I heard it, sure."

It had been the first time in ages that the spectator-god—who had only ever pointed out the human destined to become the Hero and never intervened beyond that—had actually done some work.

He had never paid the matter any special attention, but the priests had made such a fuss that he had heard about it early on. He had simply ignored it until now because it had nothing whatsoever to do with him.

"Then you also know the latter half of the oracle."

But if his grandfather was bringing it up, the conversation changed.

Meister's eyes narrowed; his index finger pushed his glasses higher on his nose.

"…Of course I do."

The moment he first heard the oracle, he had immediately guessed the identity of the "lost one."

Naturally. If a god who had not even bothered to give a prophecy about the Bemyurhen incident was personally naming someone in an oracle, how great must that person's value be? At the very least they had to be someone capable of causing an even larger disaster, or someone as important as the Hero—one of the two.

And how common were people like that? On top of everything, the god had attached the modifier "lost" right in front of the name.

Therefore, by Meister's judgment, there was only one person who could possibly be the subject of that oracle. The single individual who carried a Great Demon inside him, who had slain two Ancient Beasts and two Great Demons, and who had accomplished all of it while his memories were still incomplete.

"…Hypothetically."

Of course, saying that did not mean the man perfectly matched the epithet "lost." Yet if one treated that part as metaphor, it did not stray all that far either. A man who had lived with his memories gone could, in a sense, be said to have lost the path of life itself and been wandering.

So the subject of the oracle would be the Demon Knight. Almost certainly him.

"If I said I was going."

And yet his grandfather was the one bringing it up here?

…The same grandfather who had once sent the Demon Knight away while talking about "qualifications"?

"Are you going to tell me about those qualifications?"

That meant there had to be something more. Something only his grandfather knew.

Meister's violet eyes gleamed.