The Unqualified One -6- Arrival

The unqualified one—her past self—began stepping into the dark space with a bright, innocent smile. Watching this, Yuria started to feel a wave of unease. She remembered what ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Hans had said.

"How do you think someone like you, who didn't even learn attack magic, survived a dungeon?"

'Yeah... how did I survive...?'

As her past self walked deeper into the darkness, Yuria's head grew heavier and heavier. She had no idea what would happen next. She couldn't even imagine it—and she never would have dreamed that she'd walked into a place called the Foundation of Greed, reeking of blood, on her own two feet.

Her only hope was the red-haired butler.

Just as guilt made it impossible for her to lift her head, a man's voice came from behind her.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

Ricardo burst through the darkness. Seeing him, Yuria's eyes welled up with tears. Only now did she realize how she'd escaped. If it hadn't been for Ricardo, she would have died. She knew that now.

Ricardo roughly grabbed her past self's wrist. Panting heavily, drenched in sweat, he stared at his past self's vacant eyes and let out a sigh of relief.

"Oh? It's Ricardo."

Her past self spoke emotionlessly.

"The Ricardo I hate most in the world."

Her past self spat words that cut Ricardo deep, her face utterly indifferent. No anger. No hatred. No sorrow. Just staring at him blankly while hurling insults.

Ricardo smiled casually, unfazed.

"You think I'd make it with the person I hate most in the world? Anyway, let's go. This place is too dangerous."

"Here?"

Her past self tilted her head, looking around, then smiled brightly and spoke in a cold voice.

"This is my home."

"Such a big house... ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠You've really made it."

"...I'm tired. I want to rest."

Her past self tried to shake off Ricardo's hand and plunge into ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the deep darkness, but his grip wouldn't let go.

Ricardo spoke to her gently.

"How about staying out tonight? I'll buy you something delicious."

"No."

"I have to go home."

"Chocolate...! How about chocolate?"

"Too sweet. I hate it."

"But you always liked it... Anyway, let's go. It's dangerous here."

"I said no...! I hate it!"

Her past self thrashed and struggled against him. Screaming that she had to go, trying desperately to break free from Ricardo's grasp—it was just like a child's tantrum.

Yuria felt a chill. Mind control. She'd thought it had nothing to do with her, but those unfocused eyes and her own darkened complexion left her no choice but to admit it.

She'd been a huge burden. Hans was right. His mocking words about how her forgotten sins were the biggest problem weren't wrong at all.

Thank goodness Ricardo had caught her before it was too late. A little longer, and she would have walked into the Foundation of Greed on her own.

Yuria let out a sigh of relief and wiped the cold sweat soaking her uniform.

Then she looked at the past Ricardo. The weird student who insisted on wearing his butler uniform, claiming demerits couldn't break his will. At the same time, a tall, handsome man.

Yuria gazed at him with complicated emotions.

'Thank goodness.'

She was certain the end of this nightmare memory was near.

"We have to go. Now."

"I said no!"

"Yuria... Haah..."

Ricardo tried to drag her away by force. Ignoring her past self's flailing words, he glanced anxiously toward the exit.

Suddenly, her past self shouted at him.

"Let go of me! You ugly hypocrite!"

"What right does a trash faker have to grab me?!"

"Why? You gonna say this is all for my sake?"

Her past self hurled the words she'd bottled up inside straight at Ricardo.

Yuria swallowed hard watching this.

'How could she say that...!'

She couldn't imagine what reaction cold words like that would provoke. Even Ricardo had to feel bad hearing them.

He'd come to save her, after all. No one would be happy being called trash.

Yuria bowed her head, then cautiously lifted it to look at Ricardo.

"Puhaha! Is that what you thought?"

I thought you were gonna die smiling all the time. Ricardo grinned at his past self, just like always.

"Why didn't you say that sooner? Why suffer in silence?"

"You're right—I'm a bad guy, so no damage taken."

He spoke gently, still holding her hand tight. With the familiar expression she'd seen in Hamel.

"Yeah, I'm a bad person like you said. Curse me all you want."

"So... let's go."

Toward the self who'd finally vented her resentment, Ricardo offered his usual excuse.

Yuria's eyes trembled widely.

'Wha...?'

Even after those harsh words, he treated her kindly. Her heart pounded at how he so easily admitted it, feeling his gentleness.

Overwhelmed with emotion, Yuria cried out.

'Why are you like that?'

'Why...'

Her heart itched, emotions surging. She rubbed her sniffly nose with her hand and focused on the scene before her. It was almost over. Just hold on a bit longer, and she'd return—then she could apologize to Ricardo for this. That heavy feeling welled up inside her.

"Ah... This won't do."

"It's been so long since I had visitors..."

An old man's voice came from behind. A feeble voice. Clearly feeble.

But she couldn't turn her head. It felt like she'd die if she did.

An inexplicable pressure made Yuria's body tremble like a leaf.

'Wh-who...?'

Passing by the terrified Yuria, the old man's back revealed pitch-black dark magic. Overwhelming power choked her breath. Even though it wasn't real, the fear gripped her. Yuria shuddered and raised her head.

When the old man's figure came into view, her eyes shook violently.

"Isn't that right, young ones?"

White hair like snow. A black staff. Cat-like slitted eyes and golden pupils. The old man was straight out of a history book.

With a crescent-moon smile, he said,

"My name is Calips. They called me the 'Empire's Calamity.' Do you remember?"

As his words ended, a pop sounded, and the surroundings lit up brightly.

Intricate magic circles on the ceiling and walls. The true form of the Foundation of Greed they'd been standing in came into Yuria's view. Not a single soot mark on the ceiling.

Standing in the center, Calips smirked sinisterly and reached out his hand.

Golden eyes. Gaunt, withered face. Dressed in black robes—the very image of the black mage who'd drenched the empire in terror.

'No way.'

Calips licked his lips, murmuring that he could finally leave.

Yuria shuddered in horror. Despair. Even as an illusion, the vicious malice made her nerves stand on end. Imagining how Ricardo there must feel, she spoke in a trembling voice.

'We have to run...'

A black mage of unfathomable heights. Yuria screamed instinctively to run, but past Ricardo sighed and muttered,

"Haah... This should've been the heretics' job..."

Unintelligible words. He spoke coaxingly to his unfocused past self.

"Yuria, snap ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠out of it. When I count to three, you run that way. Got it?"

"Don't be scared. Okay?"

"I'll handle everything. Just run straight ahead."

Her past self nodded blankly with unfocused eyes.

And then.

Calips smirked at Ricardo.

"Hm... Nice spirit of sacrifice."

"But I hate that sort of thing."

With that, a stab.

Red blood trickled from Ricardo's mouth.

"Wha...?"

A dagger was embedded in Ricardo's abdomen. A familiar dagger with a pink handle. The one her father had given her, the self-defense dagger still at her waist.

It was stabbed into Ricardo's gut.

'Ah... No...!'

'Aaaah... No way?'

'This is a lie... right...? Why would I...!?'

Yuria covered her mouth with her hands.

The one who'd stabbed Ricardo was none other than herself.

Her past self, who'd thrust the dagger in, wore an awkward smile and cried.

Tears streamed down—plip, plip—and Yuria couldn't contain her emotions.

'Ah... This isn't... This can't be...'