Chapter 350
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 350
Chapter Title: Wrong.
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Of all people, he'd been caught by the one he least wanted to be discovered by, and with the secret he most desperately wanted to keep hidden.
By fixing his gaze solely on the distant horizon, avoiding Rose's eyes.
Rimon asked in a low voice.
"Do you know what the most common nonsense I've heard in my long life is?"
"What is it?"
"Lamenting that things were better in the old days."
"......"
"Why? Does it sound strange coming from me?"
"Not at all."
"No need to tiptoe around it, Countess. I know better than anyone that I'm an old fogey."
Rimon chuckled softly.
In truth, reminiscing about the good old days was the hallmark of an aging boomer.
Which made it all the more ironic for him—a boomer on a historical scale—to say such a thing.
But Rimon didn't take it back.
He simply lay back on the snow-covered rock, cradling his head in his clasped hands, and gazed up at the sky.
"I guarantee you as an old fogey: most of that 'good old days' talk is bullshit."
He might not have lived the longest.
But as an immortal who'd lived the most intense life imaginable.
Rimon smirked, having witnessed countless young folks younger than him whining about the past.
"Funny thing is, the ones who know the least about the real old days are the quickest to say it."
Sometimes you'd even get someone pretending to be neutral.
Claiming that every era has its pros and cons, so comparing them is pointless.
To Rimon, it was laughable.
There were eras where parents had to eat their children to survive famines.
Eras where people were treated worse than livestock just for their skin color, status, or gender.
Eras where natural disasters, wars, beasts, and plagues killed people like ants.
If you'd truly lived through those times, you couldn't say you wouldn't compare past and present—no matter how much it tore your mouth to admit it.
Because on average, across the board, the world only got better as time marched on. Undeniably so.
"In the end, it's just people who can't adapt to the new era cherry-picking the current downsides and the past upsides."
And yet, people always say the old days were better.
Comparing only the peaceful, bountiful eras where they could live luxuriously without lifting a finger.
Regretting they weren't born into times when they could lord over others based on skin color, status, or gender.
All while blind to how precious the peace and prosperity they enjoyed right now truly was.
"That's just how humans are."
They ignore the bad.
They romanticize the past.
They believe only what they want to believe.
All of it par for the course with humanity.
Not mocking, but stating it plainly as lived experience—and thus all the colder for it.
Rimon let out a wry chuckle.
"The funny part? Being able to lament like that means you're still okay."
Comparing eras at all is proof of having the luxury to do so.
In truly hopeless times, people say things got better than the past just to cling to some hope for survival—no desire to wallow deeper in misery.
"But when lamenting turns to actually trying to change the era yourself... that's when it stops being funny."
Rimon wiped the smile from his face.
And with a calm recollection of the past, he added one more thing.
"Especially when someone like me—a swordswoman—steps up."
The sword that sparked a world war.
The sword demon who massacred a tenth of humanity.
The sword blaze who beheaded the Sword King and aimed to topple the British Empire.
...The sword empress who rebelled against the era to reclaim her rights.
Whether as enemies.
Or as mentors.
Rimon knew, having seen many Sword Masters up close.
That even those who unleashed brutal slaughters had originally sought a more beautiful world.
They'd simply become monsters in their relentless pursuit of a better era.
"That's why I never tried to change the world myself."
Because swinging a sword in pursuit of ideals alone could turn you into a monster at any moment.
He didn't dream of a better nation.
Didn't crave greater abundance or peace.
Didn't greed for a more advanced future.
Even when the best path seemed clear before him, he'd step back and watch—intervening only when the world teetered on the brink of ruin.
Some criticized his bystander attitude, but he ignored them.
At least it beat the worst outcome: dooming the world to his own selfish desires.
"I thought that was enough."
It's hard to always make the best choice, but dodging the worst? Easy.
By warding off world-ending catastrophes, humanity had progressed slowly but steadily over centuries under his watch.
Still lamenting the era?
Then wait a few more centuries.
As long as it didn't end in extinction—like always—humanity would keep advancing endlessly.
It was a choice possible only for him: eternal life, power to avert humanity's worst for millennia to come.
And over those past centuries, Rimon had believed his policy wasn't the best, but at least the next best thing.
Even as the Iron Age dawned.
Even as he was pushed from the throne of the absolute.
Even treated as a has-been relic.
He saw it as just another cycle of change and progress, watching silently.
But...
"Lately, though... I've been thinking."
"What kind of thoughts, sir?"
"That even the policy I thought was my second-best might've just been stubbornness."
Gazing at Rimon as he lay on the rock staring at the sky, Rose asked softly.
"......Are you regretting not achieving the best outcome?"
"Who knows?"
Neither affirming.
Nor denying.
Rimon murmured lowly.
"Even if I could go back, I'd probably make the same choices to protect the world."
Thinking changing the past guarantees a better future is a delusion.
His actions might not have been perfect, but they were the best compromise—and he still believed that, mostly.
"Just... I couldn't do it with the same certainty as before."
"......I see."
The only change: he'd deliberate more, decide harder on the same choices.
After staring intently at the nonchalant Rimon.
Rose muttered bitterly.
"In the end... you've been doubting your own life, haven't you?"
Rimon didn't answer.
And so Rose understood.
Her prediction had been right, after all.
He'd always had the power to rule the world.
Yet humanity's last Sword Master chose to protect it—not as king, savior, or revolutionary, but as guardian.
Now, he'd lost faith in whether his life was right—and was seeking new answers.
And knowing that.
Rose asked again.
"Why tell me this?"
This was his weakness.
A truth he'd hidden even from the other princesses, let alone Li Chingwei, to find the 'answer' he sought.
Why confess it to her?
His answer to the uncharacteristically probing question was simple.
"Because you qualify, Countess."
"Qualify... how?"
"The qualification I told the Seven Dragon Society princesses to prove. Truth is, you've had it from the start."
"......Pardon?"
Blinking in surprise for a moment.
Realizing the meaning belatedly, Rose asked in bewilderment.
"What do you mean?"
"Why so shocked? You know it means the right to rule the world."
"But I..."
"You've always shown mercy and benevolence. Even when all of London turned their backs, you fought to protect them."
It wasn't just London.
Her entire life so far.
Especially the Blue Dragon Clan's history itself proved she was an exemplary ruler.
Thus, the qualification neither Charlotte nor Li Chingwei had proven yet—she'd possessed from the beginning.
Staring at the composed Rimon, her mouth agape for a moment.
Rose finally collected herself with a deep breath.
And spoke as calmly as she could.
"Sword Duke, you're wrong."
"You think so?"
"If I became your bride, I'd act to fulfill the Seven Dragon Society's long-cherished wish—the very one you fought to stop."
Rose pointed out coldly.
The Blue Dragon Clan could never abandon their convictions.
So if their princess seized world hegemony, she'd remake the world under dragon rule.
He could've brushed it off.
But to Rose's forthright confession, Rimon asked.
"So why?"
"......Why?"
"Why not?"
Poorly for her.
Rose was at a loss for words.
Anyone else, maybe.
But she'd never expected to hear that from Rimon, who'd battled the Seven Dragon Society for centuries to thwart their wish.
Yet Rimon just smirked.
"Forgot, Countess? Taking a princess as bride means reviving the dragons anyway."
"......"
With dragon children as his own? That was already on the table.
So what was a little world domination?
With that calm remark leaving her speechless, he continued softly, arm pillowed under his head.
"Of course, if my master the Sword Emperor knew, he'd leap from his grave."
"He'd probably insist the Pharaoh had more right to world supremacy than you."
"But I'm not my master."
Even a dragon-ruled world? Fine by him.
Better her—who always strove for the best—ruling than him, who'd spent centuries sidestepping the worst.
Gazing at the drowsy Rimon.
Rose fell silent.
'Sword Duke... you...'
There was joy in his acknowledgment.
But in this moment.
Her heart filled more with an indescribable sadness and pity.
Rimon, who'd fiercely blocked the Seven Dragon Society to prevent turning back to the Bronze Age—believing humanity could forge a better era itself.
Seeing him casually accept their wish now, she vaguely sensed.
His current state of mind.
'Were you that weary? Doubting even if stopping our wish was right?'
Of course.
It was only natural, perhaps.
The nation he'd guarded his whole life abandoned him.
All the disciples he'd believed would be humanity's pillars died.
His lifelong rival, the Seven Dragon Society, now dominated half the world as a proud megacorp.
In short, centuries of his life had been outright invalidated.
So it wasn't surprising he'd abandon his conviction as the world's guardian and join hands with his old enemy.
But...
'Even so... you're still the world's guardian.'
If he'd truly given up on the world.
And abandoned hope in humanity.
He wouldn't bother testing or watching the princesses.
He'd just pick one conveniently, live selfishly, or wander off abandoning everything.
But he didn't.
Lamenting his own shortcomings, yet still believing in humanity.
Seeking someone to show him how to lead the world right where he'd failed—even asking his sworn enemies, the Seven Dragon Society princesses.
"......"
Rose couldn't presume to understand his heart.
Having lost everything he'd built over a lifetime.
Even as his convictions blurred.
Forcing himself to join hands with foes to fulfill his duty as guardian—that was arrogance and self-deception to even try grasping it.
Yet his figure sprawled on the rock looked so lonely.
His eyes gazing at the sky so weary.
Unwittingly, she saw an overlap with someone strolling the moonlit garden—that small boy.
And realized.
Why she'd steeled herself for war, assaulted Hasneti—desperate for Rimon's answer.
Awakening to the true reason, she understood.
What she had to do.
Something she'd normally hesitate over.
But no hesitation now.
From the moment she'd decided to seek his answer, her choice was set.
"Sword Duke, do you remember what you told me before?"
"What?"
"That hypocrisy is also a virtue, and my life wasn't wrong."
"Sure, but why?"
"Then, by that qualification you acknowledged in me then, I'll tell you."
Months ago, yet distant as decades.
Vivid as yesterday.
Recalling the gentle melody echoing in the moonlit garden.
She said lowly.
But firmly.
"You weren't wrong."
"......What?"
Rimon, still lying back, tilted his head to look up at her.
Approaching him.
Kneeling on one knee before him.
Meeting his eyes at level, gazing straight.
Rose smiled softly.
"Everything you've believed in and done over these centuries was right."
Rimon Asfelder.
The man who felled dragons with the Sword Emperor.
Their sworn enemy, who'd relentlessly hunted the Seven Dragon Society to preserve his convictions against turning back time.
"Not forcing the world to change."
Acknowledging his beliefs.
"Choosing to remain a guardian to the end."
Affirming his life.
"And—"
Comforting him thereby.
The Seven Dragon Society's most righteous princess—stubborn, unyielding in her steadfast convictions—thus...
"Even stopping us."
Denied her own convictions.