Quinn's Sacrifice
Thwack!
Quinn finished the final sentence and set down his pen. There was plenty he wanted to say, but he had written only what absolutely needed to be said. Write any more than that, and he knew he'd end up spouting nonsense.
Sentimentality didn't suit him. He didn't want the kid feeling sorry for him, either. All he wanted was for him to keep going with what he'd set out to do. For Quinn, that was enough.
"You still at it in there?"
His friends had returned by the time Quinn folded the letter and tucked it away. Judging by their expressions, they hadn't gotten much out of their outing.
"What did Lokha say?"
"Say? He was so pale he could barely get a word out."
"I think he was as shaken as we were. He had no idea his palm reading would turn out to be right on the money like that."
"By the way, what's that?"
Aidan pointed at the letter on the desk.
"That wasn't there before."
"Nothing important. Just needed to sort a few things out."
"Sort things out?"
Of all times, sorting things out out of nowhere? Aidan frowned at Quinn's odd answer — and then, without warning, Quinn rose from his seat and smiled at his friends.
"Good night."
"...What are you talking about? Why would we be sleeping already?"
"The sun's still bright outside. Are your eyes broken? And why are you smiling like that?"
"You kept telling me I never smile. So I tried it. Apparently it doesn't suit me after all, huh?"
"You must have taken quite a shock. You're even doing things you never do. Are you sick or something?"
Eli pressed a hand to Quinn's forehead.
"No fever."
"I'm going out to get some air. That's why I'm saying goodbye in advance."
"You say goodbye before taking a walk?"
"Let's come with you. Being cooped up in here is getting to me too."
"No. Next time. Today I'm going alone."
Quinn let his gaze rest, one by one, on Eli, Aidan, and even Logan.
He'd never realized it before. But now that he was actually saying goodbye, it stung — a quiet ache of things left unfinished. Somewhere along the way, without ever noticing, he must have given these boys far more of his heart than he'd thought.
"Why do you insist on going alone?"
"Something about you feels off. Doesn't it?"
At Eli's words, Logan narrowed his eyes and studied Quinn closely. The unnatural air about him had been grating on Logan as well.
"I've always preferred being alone. You're the ones who kept trailing after me and getting in my way. You just never knew it."
"Oh, is that so?"
"Our apologies for failing to notice."
At his friends' teasing, Quinn couldn't suppress another faint laugh. Still — being able to laugh at the end was a mercy.
"I'm really going now."
"Nobody's stopping you. What's with the farewells? Not like you at all."
Ordinarily, he would have tossed out a few words and walked out without a second glance.
"Why do you keep smiling?"
After Quinn had gone, Aidan asked — but there was no one left who could answer him.
The sudden change in his manner had been strange, sure, but it wasn't impossible to understand. With Bayul dead, none of them were in their right minds either.
Protect him.
Walking alone out of the dormitory and down a path to somewhere, Quinn recalled Rayegar's words. At the time, he hadn't understood what they meant — but now they were crystal clear.
When that moment comes, you'll understand naturally, he'd said, and that was exactly how it happened. His claim that Quinn was the only one who could do this had also been entirely right.
But how had he known?
How could he have possibly known this moment would come?
Eli had only ever described Rayegar as a talented mage. But that explanation fell short. There was more than one thing about the man that didn't add up for a mere magician.
He had divined the future, yes — but he also knew the legends of the merfolk, and he had known that Bayul was a Spirit User.
Was the man even human?
Could he be some other kind of being, disguised in human form?
So many strange points piled up that Quinn had found himself entertaining such thoughts in the end.
"Not that any of it matters now."
Useless questions, all of them. He had no more need for thinking. The only thing left for him to focus on was Bayul — saving him. That, and that alone.
"I wish to see His Highness the Crown Prince."
Having pushed through the Academy's heavy security, Quinn arrived, unexpectedly, at the Temple of Despair — specifically, at the bishop's chamber that the Crown Prince was using as a sickroom.
"His Highness must be allowed to rest. Visitors are being turned away."
The Crown Prince's sickroom was guarded as tightly as Bayul's mortuary chamber. In the wake of an actual assassination attempt, there was no conceivable way they would grant an audience request from Quinn, a mere student.
"I am Quinn, the Academy representative who served as His Highness's ceremonial attendant. If you tell him I have something I must say regarding Bayul, he will surely grant me an audience. I'm begging you."
"...Bayul. You mean the son of Duke Randert?"
"Yes. He was my closest friend."
The knight's expression shifted as he looked at Quinn. A conflict was taking shape.
Everyone knew that Bayul had died saving the Crown Prince. And that the Prince was suffering for it — that much the knights guarding him knew better than anyone.
"It has to be now. If His Highness learns of it later, he will regret it without question."
Quinn drove the wedge home.
"...Wait here a moment."
All he had to do was relay the message. Better this, the knight judged, than sending the boy away with an uneasy conscience.
Before long, the knight returned and opened the door for Quinn, clearing the way.
As expected.
It had been wise to invoke Bayul's name deliberately. Quinn strode inside without a moment's hesitation.
Contrary to his expectations, the Crown Prince was not in bed — he stood near the window, gazing out. In his patient's gown, he turned slowly at the sound of Quinn's arrival.
"Something you simply must tell me?"
Crown Prince Lindemann looked hardly different from the day before. His complexion was a touch pale, but his body appeared healthy. He had, after all, poured out an enormous quantity of Amalun. It was a relief — if relief was the right word — that Bayul's sacrifice had not been in vain.
"First, congratulations on your recovery."
"Hah."
At Quinn's greeting, the Crown Prince let out a laugh laced with self-mockery.
"Tell me — do I really deserve to be congratulated?"
The extra life he'd gained in exchange for Bayul's death. Everyone said they were glad he had survived. He was not.
So many lives had been cut short because of him. Bayul, yes — but the Imperial Knights and the Full Moon Knight Order as well, all of them had thrown away their lives without stinting, for his sake alone.
Perhaps this was the fate of one born a Crown Prince. But that didn't mean he could simply accept it as a matter of course.
A life belonged to each person only once. And they had offered that precious life for him and him alone. That weight was anything but light.
"It was Bayul's choice. Please — make sure no regret takes root in that choice."
"...You sound angry? Well, I suppose I would be too."
Quinn's feelings were easy enough to understand. If he'd been the one who came back to life in place of a friend, he probably would have hated himself for it.
"Neither of us will find it comfortable to look at the other, so let's get to the point. Why did you come to see me? You said you had something you absolutely had to tell me about Bayul."
Ever since waking, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about the boy. Again and again he had taken medicine and forced himself back to sleep. It was during one of his brief stretches of wakefulness that Quinn had come to visit. Whatever words the boy might bring, the Crown Prince was quietly bracing himself.
"It was a lie."
"...What?"
"The one I have business with isn't Your Highness. It's Bayul."
"Then... why did you come to me?"
"Let me into the mortuary chamber. Getting into that place is far more difficult than getting in here, where Your Highness currently is."
"I imagine it will be — at least until Duke Randert arrives."
The situation spoke for itself. The heir of Duke Randert was dead. A storm of blood was about to sweep the empire. The Duke was ordinarily a benevolent man — but enraged, he was capable of becoming the most terrifying existence in the realm.
"Bayul's body... you want to see it with your own eyes?"
"I already have. But there's something I forgot to say to him. It's something I must say while looking at his face."
"He won't be able to hear it..."
"He will... hear it."
"...?"
"So please, Your Highness — dismiss your knights for a moment. I beg you."
Quinn was the prince of the Mermaid Kingdom. Merfolk did not bow their heads to humans. Yet for the first time in his life, Quinn prostrated himself before the Crown Prince.
"You won't tell me what this is about beforehand?"
"I imagine you'll learn soon enough."
"Fine. I know how much Bayul thought of you. If this is all I can do for him right now, then so be it. Let's go."
The Crown Prince asked nothing more. Guilt had kept him evasive until now. It was time for him to come to his senses as well — as Crown Prince of the Empire, and as Bayul's friend.
"H-His Highness the Crown Prince!"
The knights blanched when the Crown Prince suddenly emerged from his chamber.
"I must go see Bayul. Guide us to the mortuary chamber."
"But, Your Highness..."
"That is an order."
At the icy edge in Lindemann's voice, the knights flinched and scrambled into motion. Flawless protection closed in around him — ahead, beside, behind. It was a peaceful temple, by all appearances, but only the night before a catastrophic incident had erupted here. Their anxious steps were only natural.
"I'll go in alone."
Before Bayul's mortuary chamber, Quinn made one last request of the Crown Prince.
"I'll wait out here."
As the Prince gave his permission, the door of the mortuary chamber opened for the second time that day.
It had been an agonizing road to walk. When Quinn came out, he too would go inside and bid Bayul a final farewell — along with a word of thanks.
Whoosh—
When he opened a window along the temple corridor, a cool breeze swept past the Crown Prince's collar. Looking up, he saw the sun sinking slowly toward the west.
Bayul... when I face you, what should I say first?
He had found the courage to come this far, but the turmoil in his chest was beyond his power to settle. It was simply heartbreaking — a boy dead at only sixteen.
So time slipped by. How much, he couldn't say.
Then, without warning, a commotion broke out, and the Crown Prince's head turned.
"Move! We have to get in there! We have to stop him!"
"Young master, why again? If Count Randert finds out, you'll really catch it this time!"
"His Highness the Crown Prince is here as well! Mind your manners!"
"The Crown Prince?"
Aidan sprang straight up, chin lifted — and smacked face-first into the Crown Prince's gaze, which was already fixed on him.
"Your Highness! Your Highness! We have to stop Quinn! Stop him, please!"
"Stop Quinn? What on earth are you talking about?"
He had only just let Quinn inside. A chill of foreboding swept over Lindemann, and he shoved past the knights and sprinted toward Aidan and the others.
"Quinn came here, right?"
"Did he ask His Highness for it? To open the mortuary chamber's door?"
"Don't tell me — he went in there alone?"
"That's right. He did, but... did I do something wrong? Why are you all making those faces?"
Not one of them had any color left in their cheeks. They looked utterly stricken — as though something that should never, ever happen had already begun to happen.
"He's going there to die!"
"He means to save Bayul and take his place!"
"Wh-what? What does that even—?"
It was absurd. How could anyone bring back the already dead?
"Hurry! Let us through! We have to stop Quinn!"
But the boys meant every word. Shouting as they repeatedly shoved aside the knights barring their path, they looked truly desperate.
"Clear... the way!"
Flustered, the Crown Prince could give no other order. The knights fell back, the boys tore off toward the mortuary chamber, and the Crown Prince rushed frantically after them.