A Child's Tantrum
A shiver sliced down Apis's spine like a razor-sharp icicle scraping across her vertebrae. When the flow of conversation suddenly snapped, intelligent beings who lived by communication would instinctively grope for some substitute for words. They would study the other person's expression, watch their gestures, observe their movements. In the end, it was nothing more than a desperate resistance against the crushing weight of silence—a kind of defensive instinct buried deep in the hearts of all sentient creatures.
“H-Hero…”
She could see nothing. No expression, no gestures, no actions—nothing at all. No matter how wide she forced her eyes open, no matter how desperately she tried to gather the faint, hazy light floating in the air, creatures who lived beneath the sun were utterly helpless against sudden darkness. In the end, Apis could only quietly accept the absurdity of the night that had stolen her sight without warning.
“I see! A misunderstanding! It was all a misunderstanding!”
The clear, ringing voice that echoed through the darkness should have revealed exactly where its owner stood. Yet for some reason Apis could not tell whether the Hero was in front of her, beside her, or behind her. It felt as if the darkness itself had grown a mouth and begun to speak.
“It’s fine! Apis! You don’t have to worry about it at all! I made the exact same mistake just earlier when I misjudged the Saintess’s scent! Haha! So even the ever-vigilant Apis has a clumsy side! Honestly, I’m relieved to find a fellow scatterbrain!”
“Y-Yeah…”
As her eyes gradually adjusted to the dark, Apis finally caught sight of the Hero’s lower face, smiling brightly. But the sight was so bizarre—so like a portrait whose upper half had been violently smeared with black paint—that instead of relaxing, Apis felt a new, never-before-experienced kind of terror.
“Please don’t give it another thought! I will take full responsibility for all these dishes! I’ll devour every last one without leaving a single scrap! Leaving food behind is something a Hero—who must serve as everyone’s role model—can never do! Even if my stomach bursts, I will finish every bite!”
“I-I’ll help too… First, let me relight the lantern… I’ll fetch some oil from the storeroom, so just wait a moment…”
“Thank you for your thoughtful assistance, Apis!”
Using the faint afterimage left by the dying lantern, Apis estimated her position, reached out, and felt along the wall with the Hero’s voice at her back. It was instinct—closer to pure animal reflex. Like a wild beast with sharp senses unconsciously avoiding unstable ground, or sensing an impending natural disaster before it struck. She had to get out of this place as quickly as possible. The desperate survival alarm screaming from her subconscious was frantically driving her frozen legs.
But then—
“Apis.”
The voice was so dark it seemed to swallow all light, thick and sticky like mud clinging to clothing. It coiled around Apis’s mind. Then—
Squeeze.
Something seized her hand. In that instant, the pitiful end of a beast trapped in a swamp flickered across Apis’s retina. An animal that didn’t even realize its limbs were already swallowed by the earth, thrashing uselessly in the same spot, struggling just to survive, only to die alone. Apis instinctively understood. She was that beast right now. And whatever gripped her arm was the bottomless swamp.
“H-Hero…?”
Tension gripped her heart like thorns. Apis fought with all her strength to shake off the invisible shackles and barely managed to squeeze out a sound. The one holding her hand—its owner hidden in the pitch-black night—began to exhale a heavy, ominous breath like thick fog.
“Apis. We’re comrades, aren’t we?”
“Hero… What are you suddenly—Ugh!”
“Apis. We. Are. Comrades. Aren’t we?”
“Kgh! Hero…!”
The Hero clutched Apis’s arm with the force of someone hauling on a massive rope, repeating the same words over and over, demanding a clear answer.
“O-Of course! We’re comra—Ugh!”
“That’s right! We’re comrades! Comrades who have overcome countless hardships and trials together! Precious comrades who can trust each other with our backs no matter where we are!”
“Hero! First, let go of my arm! We can talk after you—!”
“Then—!!!”
Apis’s consciousness screamed in alarm. Not because the Hero had suddenly raised her voice. The Hero’s normal speaking volume was already close to a shout; in fact, Apis could count on one hand the times she had heard her speak softly. What made even the battle-hardened Apis unable to hide her agitation was the raw, almost scream-like intensity behind that voice—something fundamentally different from usual.
She couldn’t fully explain it in human or elven terms. She only knew, instinctively, that something was wrong. Anger. Or perhaps craving. Among the words that came to mind, those were the closest in color, but Apis could not find a single word that perfectly captured the emotion the Hero was radiating.
“Comrades. Shouldn’t. Lie. To each other. If we truly care for and cherish one another, shouldn’t we only speak the truth?”
“H-Hero…!”
Apis tried several times to pull her arm free, but the Hero’s monstrous grip refused to allow it. It didn’t feel like a person holding another person’s arm. It felt like her arm had been wedged between two cliffs. Even if she forced it, the arm that escaped such mountain-crushing strength would clearly never be the same. At this point, Apis had no choice but to answer the question.
But then—
“Apis. From now on, I want you to answer everything I say with nothing but the truth. Did you truly fail to find the Priest today? Or did you actually find her and then lie to me by saying you couldn’t?”
“What are you talking about… Hero… I just told you that thinking I found her was a misunderstanding…”
“Lies!!!”
“Ugh!”
With a roar that matched her earlier outburst, the Hero tightened her grip even further.
“Apis. Why? Why are you lying to me? We’re comrades, aren’t we? As a Hero, I don’t want to commit the vile act of doubting my own comrades.”
“Hero… I really…”
“The smell.”
“…!”
“I can smell it… I can smell her… the Priest’s scent… This time… this time I’m certain…”
There was no way any scent could remain. Fearing exactly this, Apis had burned herbs beforehand to erase her scent, sprinkled the ashes over her body, wandered through the crowded market to let the smells of countless races soak into her clothes, and even used wind spirit magic for a long time to dilute any lingering traces. On top of that, this room was a chaotic jungle of thick food aromas. Detecting that man’s scent on her now would be as impossible as finding a single grain of rice in the middle of a vast desert.
“I understand… I understand, so… just let go first, let’s talk, He—ro…”
Just as Apis, convinced she had severely underestimated the situation, decided that calming the agitated Hero was the top priority and was carefully considering her next words—
Pale moonlight spilled through the window, illuminating the Hero’s face that had been hidden in shadow.
“Hic… Hicuuu…”
“…!”
The sight of a pitiful girl’s face drenched in tears, sorrow, and misery froze Apis’s mind just as it was beginning to turn cold and rational again.
“I-I was wrong, hic! I made a m-mistake… Apis… I’ll become a role model. I’ll become everyone’s example… I’ll become someone worthy of the name Hero…”
“He… ro…”
“I won’t be greedy anymore… I’ll always put others’ lives before my own… If someone is about to be splashed with poison, I’ll take it with my own body… Even if my arms and legs are torn off, I’ll make sure not a speck of dirt touches anyone else… I won’t use even a single grain of my power for myself… not one bit! Hic! I w-won’t use it…”
“You…”
Apis’s arm trembled violently. But the one shaking wasn’t Apis. It was the Hero. Like a child who had once been lost now desperately clutching the only anchor she had in the middle of a crowded city, the Hero’s hands—though her whole body swayed like a thin tree in a gale—clung to Apis’s arm with a fragile desperation that didn’t match the terrifying strength of her grip.
“I-I’ll eat all my food without being picky… I won’t cry even if I have nightmares… I’ll be a good girl! A good girl… So please…”
The sorrowful voice had lost all semblance of pleading or begging—it had lost even the shape of language.
“I’m begging you… Please give the Priest back to me… Please return the Priest to me…”
It was unmistakably a child’s tantrum.