Chapter 299
Chapter 299
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: Return
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Pffft.
Rona covered her mouth and burst into laughter.
"The one history remembers... what? What did you just say, Rishir?"
"The blind swordsman history was afraid to remember, the strongest swordsman the continent has never seen."
"What, it just rolls off the tongue. So it wasn't just some throwaway line?"
"Of course not."
The saint he'd reunited with after so long looked exactly the same as ever.
A short, full bob haircut, impeccably formal gentleman's attire.
And that androgynous air about her.
That was why.
Rishir wrapped his arm around her neck with a mix of joy and familiarity.
Treating her like his closest same-sex friend.
He'd remembered her preference(?) for being treated as a man.
"Rona, keep this in mind."
"Wh-what!?"
Rishir didn't notice.
That her reaction was far too stiff for mere same-sex friend contact.
The young noble's glossy bronze skin flushed ever so slightly.
Her sky-blue eyes, brighter than ever today, darted around nervously.
"Wh-what? Spit it out!"
Soon enough, Rona responded to Rishir.
Looping her arm around his neck in turn.
The picture of best same-sex friends.
If you ignored how one of them kept squirming unconsciously.
"It's not 'the one history remembers.'"
"What?"
"It's 'the one history couldn't remember.' Feel the difference between 'the blind swordsman history remembers' and 'the blind swordsman history was afraid to remember'? The weight of those words?"
Rishir was openly thrilled.
And from him emanated the purest admiration.
Which made it all the more insidious.
"Uh... yeah. Now that you mention it, it does hit different. The blind swordsman history was afraid to remember..."
"Exactly. The blind swordsman history was afraid to remember, the strongest swordsman the continent has never seen... That person surely deserved to claim that name."
"He claimed that name!?"
"Yes... Everyone there saw it clearly. That majestic figure."
"Whoa..."
Rona was awestruck.
Only she knew what it was for.
"S-so, who exactly is this person?"
Context pointed to one obvious candidate.
Yet Rona couldn't even guess.
The murderer she'd heard about from Rishir was no one who could claim such a title.
"...There was someone like that. Someone I might never see again—makes me miss her more today..."
As he chatted with Rona, Rishir glanced at Klana's reaction.
"..."
Indeed. Master of the assassin's blade, the blind swordsman history was afraid to remember, the strongest swordsman the continent has never seen—or so one might call her.
She maintained her composure even now.
A terrifying level of inner control.
However.
Rishir could clearly see it.
The cracks in that mask deepening.
"Anyway—Rishir, what do we do?"
"Huh?"
Then.
Rona asked cautiously.
"About that person. Is it really okay to just leave her like this, with no memories?"
"...Ah—"
Rishir instantly grasped what Rona meant.
Klana.
She was the murderer countless swordmasters had praised for her danger.
For such a murderer to fully revive and lose her memories at the same time.
Normally, she'd be marked high-risk and placed under strict surveillance.
Rishir suddenly felt a twinge of doubt.
"I'm wondering myself—what did the others say? About leaving Klana so free—"
"Oh, that. Since she's someone you influenced, she's probably fine—something like that. Opinion just naturally converged."
"No—"
Rishir was dumbfounded.
-Rishir?
-Rishir!
To handle such a grave matter so primitively, like some primal resonance.
He was grateful for their trust, but at this point, it worried him.
These people.
Are they really okay?
"Even so, isn't that too hasty? Just because I influenced her means it's fine... Isn't that a dangerous mindset? Irresponsible too."
"Is it? But some demons you influenced even became spirits, right?"
"Uh—"
"Me and Fienne too."
"..."
Rishir was frustrated.
-Rishir?
-Rishir!
He wanted to correct their warped thinking, but he couldn't even counter it.
"Separately, I get what you're saying. That's exactly what I was about to bring up."
"Is it okay to leave Klana like this—in her memory-lost state?"
There was that 'what if.'
They believed the murderer had become Rishir-like because of Rishir, but still hoped she'd regain her original self, just in case.
"Above all, we don't even know why she suddenly lost her memories..."
"..."
"Huh? What is it, Rishir? Got a guess?"
"What was Klana like before she lost her memories?"
"She was handling your visitors as your fiancée's duty."
Rona smiled bitterly, recalling it.
"She was super cheerful. 'Stay away from my fiancé!' she'd tease threateningly, but even that was somehow adorable—"
"..."
"One time she got totally wasted and threw a tantrum. 'Where's my fiancé? I miss him.' Snot and tears everywhere—"
"..."
"Oh! And she'd sometimes wear your spare clothes from your room. Grinning ear to ear, saying they smelled like you and it felt good. Sounds creepy from anyone else, but from her? Just cute."
"..."
"Oh! And once she found out I'm a woman, she asked stuff like—how to take the lead with a guy? Said she'd have no experience when that time came and was super worried—"
As Rona described.
Klana back then seemed lovable to anyone watching.
Enraptured by that charm, Rona forgot to ask about their relationship and kept talking.
"Anyway, I was shocked. That was your swordmaster's true self? How does someone so pure turn into that horrific murderer? What curse could do that?"
"Ah—"
Right then.
Rishir confronted the shocking misunderstanding surrounding Klana.
After reclaiming her body and reviving, Klana had stayed as 'light Klana' for a while—
And those around her took that change as 'Rishir's power purified the murderer!'
In other words.
In their minds, Klana was no longer the brutal killer.
She was the adorable, clingy girl visiting Rishir daily!
Yes.
The murderer had been reborn.
"..."
"Huh, Rishir. What's wrong?"
Rishir squeezed his eyes shut without thinking.
Reasons why Klana might be faking memory loss?
Too many to count.
He glanced at Klana unconsciously.
"..."
Huh?
Did she really lose her memories?
Rishir thought so for a moment.
Her eyes staring straight ahead seemed so calm.
But looking closer, no.
They were utterly empty.
Like a corpse's.
"Ah..."
Klana.
You're dead.
Rishir prayed for the revived woman's peace.
"That's why I brought Klana here. Maybe seeing you would jog her original memories—bring back her true self."
Rona smiled wistfully, thinking of that lovable girl.
"...If that's the case, no need to worry."
"Oh! What, Rishir—you've got a way, don't you!?"
"...Yeah. For now, though. Pray for Klana's peace."
"Huh? What do you mean? Wait—Klana? Her reaction's—"
Rishir gave Klana space for her alone time.
He resumed the talk after stepping away with Rona.
"So—Rona. You came here flying Bondalles' flag to welcome our expedition as city representatives, right?"
"Our expedition—"
Rona mulled it over and chuckled.
"Yeah, surprised me."
Rishir realized his mistake and opened his mouth.
His comrade vanished suddenly, then returned from distant elven lands leading an expedition.
Hard to swallow without explanation.
He planned to kindly explain to the surely shocked Rona.
"Nah. Not at all."
"Huh?"
"We've known each other longer than a day or two."
Rona flashed her signature refreshing smile and patted Rishir's shoulder.
"Oh, and this—is a message from Bondalles city councilor Fienne."
"Huh?"
-I don't care what you've been up to out there, just hurry back!
Rona mimicked Fienne's haughty tone.
"..."
Rishir felt his chest swell.
To have kindred spirits who understood his position—
Could anything be more moving?
"Right. Let's go."
Rishir stepped back and beckoned Rona.
To introduce the expedition members—follow him.
"Well, about that—"
But Rona stepped back too, smiling wryly.
"I'd love to, but not right now. Bondalles' situation is pretty messy."
"Huh?"
"We Bondalles citizens know what 'Rishiring' means, right?"
"?"
Rishiring?
What's that?
I don't know?
"What kind of name is that...!"
"What can you do? Your fault entirely, so own it. Anyway—Bondalles naturally welcomes the Ilratten expedition with open arms."
Rona spread her arms wide with her refreshing smile.
"Friends of Special Surveillance Officer Rishir are Bondalles' friends, no?"
"...Damn, Rona. Why do you keep感動ing me like this? I was saving emotional tears for the real reunion—"
"Haha, you rascal. Go ahead, cry anytime. My arms are open. What're friends for?"
Rona threw her arms wide magnanimously.
A gesture only a same-sex friend could give.
"Rona~"
Naturally, Rishir moved to hug her.
"Not that much...!"
But Rona hastily closed her arms midway.
"No need to actually charge in, okay? You get me?"
The androgynous beauty averted her eyes, fidgeting.
"Yeah, got it. Loud and clear."
I got too clingy.
Rishir accurately(?) recognized his mistake and apologized meekly.
"Anyway, back to it—we Bondalles welcome you and your friends."
"Meaning other cities don't?"
Rona smiled weakly instead of answering.
"You know Bondalles isn't that tough a city, right? That's when they started swaggering into ours."
Rishir nodded, recalling his prior visit to Ifriren.
Bondalles was prosperous enough.
But tough? Debatable.
It thrived thanks to its geographic advantage—
Positioned at the continent's central gateway.
For instance.
Bondalles had grown picking up crumbs from neighboring metropolises.
"So, they're scouting the yard because they fear the expedition exerting influence through Bondalles—"
"'Yard' stings a bit. But reality's reality. Yeah, Rishir. Just like you said. Bondalles has no choice but to watch them now. So for the moment—parading back into the city arm-in-arm with you won't work."
"Then—"
"They made us an offer. Bondalles can't handle the rumored expedition alone, so they'd help."
"...Trying to control contact between Bondalles and the expedition?"
"Who knows? Point is—"
Rona spoke in a weary tone.
"They're itching to flaunt their influence."
"...Tough gig, Rona."
"It was."
"Was?"
Rona gazed steadily at Rishir.
"Yeah. It was."
A meaningful smile crossed her face.
Imagination?
Rishir sensed an unexpected glee in her expression.
Rishir had no time to savor the reunion before parting from the two again.
No reason to grieve, though.
-At your expedition's pace, half a day—no, a full day tops, and you'll hit our Bondalles camp. So let's properly enjoy the real reunion then. With everyone.
The reunion was merely postponed by a day.
The expedition pressed on at steady speed.
A day later, they reached what could be called Bondalles' front yard—
"Rishir! A group of about ten is approaching!"
"Oh...!"
A much larger group than yesterday.
Rishir greeted them with proportionate anticipation.
"Huh?"
Rishir's expression hardened.
"Master of the Forward March! A pleasure to meet you! Your fame precedes you—"
Because among the ten or so, the faces he'd hoped for were scarce.
And even those were pushed to the back with Rona.
In that instant.
Rishir recalled his talk with Rona yesterday.
-They made us an offer. Bondalles can't handle the rumored expedition alone, so they'd help.
Rishir nodded deeply.
He vaguely grasped the situation.
External meddling in Bondalles was more blatant than thought.
'Maybe the expedition's just a pretext...'
Collecting his thoughts, Rishir spoke.
"I heard Bondalles' camp is up ahead—"
"Yes! Just as the envoy relayed yesterday! It's the site prepared to welcome the hero and expedition! We'll guide you there!"
"On behalf of Bondalles?"
"Yes!"
"Then, are you Bondalles affiliates?"
"..."
The young noble leading the group, responding to Rishir.
His friendly face stiffened.
But only briefly.
"Welcoming a guest like the hero allows no negligence."
They declared boldly instead.
Their confidence manifested as disdain for Bondalles.
"...Is that so? Then, could you handle transporting my luggage?"
Rishir addressed Rona's group at the rear.
To save their face.
He picked up a sword from his belt to hand over.
"Of course!"
The leaders snatched it preemptively.
The holy sword.
The hero's symbol sprang to mind first.
"Please handle with care—"
"Ah, no way, the holy sword—"
"A demon sword."
Why?
They dropped it, reflexively questioning.
"Ah!"
They panicked at their blunder but quickly composed themselves.
A hero owning such an ominous thing.
Must be baggage thrust upon him as a hero—literal luggage.
"No, my beloved blade!"
Why?
Their faces grew complicated as they questioned again.