The Distortion of Sincerity
People rarely understand just how difficult it is to properly express one's true feelings. It's not merely a matter of struggling to voice what's in your heart—that part is never the real issue. Anyone can speak of their innermost thoughts or sincerity. The true problem lies with the speaker themselves, and with the one receiving those words.
Only a rare few, those whose outward appearance and inner self both shine with brilliance, can convey their sincerity perfectly through words or actions alone. Most people, however, find that simply speaking their heart is never enough to transmit their true intent without distortion.
Expressions, tone, voice, word choice—each element warps the sincerity the moment it leaves the speaker. Then the listener, whether ordinary or exceptional, adds their own standards, circumstances, and emotions, twisting it further upon reception.
They might doubt the sincerity altogether or interpret the intent in the complete opposite direction. Even if they recognize the honesty and grasp the meaning to some degree, the degree of transmission varies wildly from person to person.
Why does the same sentence stir one person's heart while merely echoing in another's mind? Why do some cries move people to tears while others are met with nothing but turned backs?
In the end, it all comes down to differences in the degree and direction of distortion.
Only by shaping the message to fit each recipient—adjusting for how much it will bend—can one truly convey their sincerity and intent in full.
That is why, at some point, I began doing exactly that. I have spoken my sincerity in forms tailored to how they would receive it, wrapped in the appropriate guise of deception, and for the most part, it has worked.
“I truly cherish our current relationship. You have become a precious friend to me—the only reason I visit this space every day.”
She might have sensed a faint dissonance in my words. Rowell and the others sometimes tilted their heads at that same dissonance. But just as they never uncovered its source, she would not either. As I said, this was my sincerity—only spoken in the manner and timing it required.
“…Of course, saying such things while keeping you imprisoned here might be nothing more than selfish self-consolation and one-sided coercion.”
“Anak……!”
I deliberately turned my back on her with those final words. I heard her call my name, but I pretended not to and activated the crystal, leaving the study.
“…Haa.”
Once the scenery before me shifted, I exhaled the breath I had been holding since turning away. The morning forest air felt unusually chilly.
I knew better than anyone that this was a cowardly, irresponsible act. At the most crucial moment, right before that final step, I had dumped everything onto her.
No—it was far more cowardly than simply passing the burden. I had already decided on a single answer and presented it to her as though it were a choice. Now she would remain alone in that silence, unable to refute, persuade, or plead, and would choose the answer I had already predetermined.
A bitter laugh escaped me at my own pathetic cowardice and selfish duplicity.
How else could I describe someone who refuses to fully trust her affection yet uses it to steer the outcome he desires, who feels guilt over her misunderstanding yet exploits it whenever convenient?
Rowell would never have done this. None of the others would have even considered it. Despite having been surrounded by that radiant light for so long, was this truly all I amounted to?
—…Is something troubling you?
Duru Satal’s reluctant question snapped me back to my senses. Honestly, I had completely forgotten he was there.
“It’s fine. Though, to be honest, you weren’t really curious in the first place, were you?”
—…Shall I summon Granbipra?
“Please do.”
With the other two managers still missing, there was nothing left for me to do here, and I had nothing particular to say to him either. Still, it was only proper to offer a formal farewell before leaving. After all, there was no guarantee he would remain favorably disposed toward me forever simply because he had once shown kindness—and received a decent reward for it.
Duru Satal appeared to have restored a fair portion of his consciousness network overnight. Otherwise, his exposed brain would not have been hidden beneath the soil again. Though the surrounding earth and grass were still different in color, making his brain plainly visible, time would eventually resolve that as well.
Compared to before, his state was pitiful, so it took quite some time for the message to reach Granbipra. According to Duru Satal, Granbipra was currently traveling through the major districts and locations with his clones, proclaiming his return to the entire forest.
Of course, with the managers gone—or even if they had remained—no one in this forest would dare deny the fact. Still, the forest’s vastness meant the process took time.
—He will arrive shortly.
While waiting for Granbipra, I first summoned Erill. The thought crossed my mind that Bagloros might already be waiting silently in the shadows near the inn for my return.
Yes, perhaps he was. Perhaps he had already captured Raze and all his associates and was simply waiting for me to arrive.
Erill descended before me, her beak stained with purple juice. Most of the monsters had hidden themselves after sensing Granbipra’s revival, so she had not been able to enjoy proper entertainment, but she seemed to have found a fruit to her liking.
“Right. I haven’t forgotten our promise. Maracas fruit and the liquor made from it. I remember.”
She reminded me of the promise I had made when we defeated the Black Wyvern.
“I’ll look for it as soon as we reach Peltecheru.”
Peltecheru was not particularly close to the regions where Maracas fruit grew, but the liquor distilled from it should be findable if I searched.
—Did you rest well?
Granbipra had arrived. Though only a single day had passed, he had already grown considerably. The jewel-like radiance of his scales had dimmed somewhat, but his body had become comparable in size to Erill’s, and the aura he emitted was far stronger than before.
“Yes. Have you heard anything about the other two?”
—It appears they fled, just as you said. My clones are currently searching for their traces. If you could wait a few days……
“I would like to, but there are matters I must attend to first.”
—Are you leaving now?
“Yes. In truth, I am already quite delayed, so I cannot afford to linger any longer.”
—Then you are entrusting their fate to me?
I sensed a peculiar anticipation rising in his consciousness. If I left their disposal to him, they would not survive.
Of course, part of me wanted to simply tell him to capture them. Unlike the immobile Duru Satal, the other two would likely make excellent summons on par with Erill. Yet after witnessing Granbipra’s hatched form and the speed of his growth, I felt hesitant to keep pushing my own demands.
“If you find them before I return, you may do as you wish.”
Having already made the promise, he would not break it now. But the longer he waited while holding them captive, the greater his anger toward the two managers would grow, and that resentment could negatively affect our future relationship.
There was still a chance I would return before he found them. And if he dealt with them before my return, he would once again owe me a debt. Either way, I would not lose.
—Thank you. Should that come to pass, I will repay you in another manner.
“Then I will see you again later. Continue to obey Granbipra as you have until now.”
After giving that final order to Duru Satal, I climbed onto Erill’s back. With Granbipra and Duru Satal seeing us off, Erill soared high into the sky.
* * *
“Hohoho. What a delightful sight.”
Seated in his chair, Raze looked down at Bagloros kneeling before him with an arrogant smile. Several hours had already passed, yet Bagloros remained utterly motionless, and Raze had spent those same hours simply staring at him.
This was not an attempt to detect anything suspicious, as the masked man had tried. Raze was simply savoring the moment with genuine pleasure.
“You will never understand how long I have dreamed of this moment.”
The black crystal still glowed in his hand. There were generally two methods of controlling a chimera. One involved engraving an imprint into the original form during the manufacturing stage, much like summoners did. The other relied on various restriction spells or mental fragmentation spells. Most mages and chimera creators combined both methods for stable control.
These spells and imprints contained unique passwords or formulas known only to the creator, designed to prevent other mages or sorcerers from seizing control or ownership of the chimera.
The black crystal he held was essentially a vessel for that password. It forced the chimera to accept the creator’s will over the owner’s and activated all the restriction and mental manipulation spells placed upon it.
As the masked man had said, it was a crude device whose effects could only be inferred from the target’s reactions, yet Raze showed not the slightest doubt.
“You may not remember, but I once saw you in person during a mission.”
It had been before the Demon King Thanatos appeared on the surface, at the time when the High Assassin Guild was just beginning to wield significant influence in the underworld.
“Since it was before the Great War, I had not yet earned the title of highest-ranking assassin, but I was dispatched along with over ten top-tier assassins and several mid-tier assassins for good measure. From the guild’s perspective, it was an extremely important request.”
The target had been the second heir of a certain kingdom, to be eliminated during his travels. It was not only a top-grade request but also offered the highest reward the guild had ever seen since its founding.
Over ten top-tier assassins and roughly ten mid-tier assassins. The target, being the kingdom’s second heir, was protected by a large escort and skilled knights, yet the mission had seemed impossible to fail.
“No one doubted our success. The top-tier assassins argued among themselves over who would be the first to sever the target’s head, each trying to increase their own share. We lowered ourselves to avoid offending them.”
Confident of victory, they launched their ambush under cover of night, targeting the heir’s tent. Despite the internal power struggles, they were professionals. They made no amateur mistakes that would interfere with one another, and the layered sentries were silenced before they could raise any alarm.
Swords, spells, hidden weapons, poison, whips, fists—each assassin had their own style, but all were specialized in killing.
“It was like watching a play. Witnessing the techniques of so many top-tier assassins at once is something even veterans in this line of work rarely experience.”
Of course, assassins normally kept their techniques hidden. Especially from fellow professionals they might one day face as rivals on the battlefield.
Moreover, an opponent’s trump card was almost never observable directly—except during a decisive battle where one of them would perish. Yet on that night, even if not their absolute trump cards, the various techniques of the top-tier assassins were displayed simultaneously.
“Though I had no place on that stage and no room to intervene, being a mere spectator was enough for me at the time.”
Just as he said, the mid-tier assassins were nothing more than spectators or simple errand runners. The assassins advanced toward the target’s tent in the tranquil silence, then moved swiftly yet carefully inside—each trying to outpace their rivals.
“Their timing was nearly identical, but one group entered the tent first: ‘Hangman,’ ‘Lord Poison,’ and ‘Mantis Lady.’ Though inferior to Bagloros, the one who creeps in the night, they were all legendary top-tier assassins.”
Many assassins and informants gathered under the High Assassin Guild for stable income and livelihood, but these three were different. They were powerful enough to command high fees independently, yet they had joined the guild after calculating that they could seize the center of power as the guild came under the control of various nations’ upper echelons.
Had they finished their calculations a little sooner, they might well have been the ones truly ruling the guild.
“We, along with the other top-tier assassins, believed the matter was settled. But there was one fact we did not know: the target had already anticipated becoming the High Assassin Guild’s objective.”
The three assassins who entered the tent lost their lives on the spot. Though skilled and experienced, they were powerless before the black shadow that reached for them. Neither their swords, poisons, nor whips could stop it.
“The target had found the most certain way to stop the High Assassin Guild.”
Waiting for them inside the tent was Bagloros, who had been hired to guard the heir.
Had they moved even slightly faster out of awareness of their rivals, or had they even suspected what awaited them inside, they might have survived a few dozen seconds longer. But they had not.
They never realized who stood before them. More than that, they did not even comprehend that the weapons they raised could not block the opponent’s attack. Until the moment their vital points were pierced and consciousness faded, they were still planning their counterattack for the next instant.
“What followed was not like a play but a nightmare in the dead of night. You, leaping from the tent, slaughtered the top-tier assassins one by one. Those outside lasted a little longer, but it was only a matter of time.”
The rear group, who had thought they were late, instinctively sensed a grave change when the three from the lead group suddenly burst out of the tent. They fought with everything they had, unleashing every hidden technique without regard for the watching rivals.
From endless streams of concealed weapons to double-bladed swords, curse-inflicting mirrors, and various artifacts paired with bizarre techniques—all unfolded in the darkness.