The Face She Feared
''Hurk!'' Like those tormented by nightmares, she bolted upright as if something were chasing her. While dreams one wishes to fulfill grow clearer with time, the nightmares one longs to forget only sharpen. For her, it was the opposite. The nightmare she wished to erase grew more vivid with each passing day, while the wish she once clung to faded into haze. She had always avoided the quiet sleep where dreams surfaced too easily.
''Haa…'' Covering her face with both hands was an unconscious act. Even without a mirror, she knew her current appearance strayed far from the ideal she had pursued—disheveled and wretched. Returning to her usual flawless state would require a little time.
''Hmph!'' Slap. She struck her own cheeks hard and gathered her spirit. Normally, that alone would have cleared her mind, but a faint fog still lingered in her consciousness. Apparently, a trace of alcohol remained.
Alcohol? A small question flickered through her hazy thoughts. She had sworn to become the ideal hero everyone admired, so she was well aware of her own flaws—flaws she must never reveal to others. Her weakness to drink. Even a few glasses could erase the entire day's memories, which was why she rarely let alcohol near her lips. Yet she had drunk herself unconscious. It was truly inexplicable.
Could this all be part of some sinister plot targeting her weakened state? Just as that reasonable suspicion surfaced—
Chzzzt. Chzzzt.
A grating noise. An eerie static that felt utterly alien to this world seized her consciousness without order. She tried to locate the source with her eyes, but it was unnecessary effort. The thing had already appeared right in front of her nose. Like a picture book page being flipped by an unseen hand before the story was finished—without any warning or omen, as if it had always been there.
It revealed itself: a small wooden box. Or rather, something that merely resembled one. A neatly rectangular wooden construct. Its front was studded with button-sized metal ornaments, and two bizarre metal rods like insect antennae protruded from the top. Its purpose was impossible to guess from its appearance. It boasted a peculiar shape unlike anything she had ever seen. The only certainty was that it was an artificial creation.
Chzzzt. Chzzzt.
Soon, it began to speak to her.
[Hello, Hero. I am—]
Crunch!
But the words never finished. Her solid fist instantly shattered the suspicious object.
''Haa…'' A sigh heavy with irritation. Even faced with such an bizarre situation that would have flustered any ordinary person, she felt bewildered but not panicked. That thing—the unidentified object called a ''radio''—had appeared in her dreams several times recently. She assumed her half-awake mind was still seeing remnants of the dream, an afterimage.
''So this is why they call alcohol the root of all evil… For something that only appeared in dreams to manifest in reality… I struck it without thinking…''
The exaggerated, theatrical tone had become second nature. When she first began speaking this way, both her younger brother and she herself had found it terribly awkward, and she had endured several humiliating experiences because of it. Now, however, the mannerism flowed naturally even in her private mutterings—she had reached a state of complete unity with the role.
''I must prepare to start the morning quickly…''
At that moment—
''It's a shame we finally get to speak in reality, yet you greet me with a fist. Isn't that a bit too much?''
A strange woman's voice, tickling the nape of her neck, instantly jolted her drowsy consciousness awake. The intense sense of crisis that followed justified her seemingly violent defensive action. After harsh training, her senses had long surpassed human limits. Anyone who could so easily take her from behind and speak so casually could not be ordinary. It was a rational decision.
''Victim! Dawna! Intruder—!''
Just then, the sword she swung while calling for her comrades stopped dead in midair. The unbelievable sight unfolding before her eyes had frozen her thoughts.
''I've missed you, my daughter.''
It was her mother. The one who gave birth to her. The one who protected and cherished her. And the one who abandoned her. The very figure she had once yearned for with desperate longing now stood before her exactly as she remembered.
For a fleeting instant, her grip on the sword loosened—it was inevitable. No matter how great a hero one became, at the moment of birth one was merely someone's beloved child. The way body and mind softened before the one who gave life was an invisible shackle imposed on every being born into this world.
But every rule has its exceptions.
Grind.Bang!
Suddenly, her teeth clenched. She swung her sword. The strike, swift as an arrow, mercilessly pierced the hand of the entity wearing her mother's form.
''Kyaaah!''
The thing, its right palm impaled and pinned to the wall in an instant, let out a pained groan and writhed. Yet the furious hero showed not the slightest trace of mercy.
''Illusion magic! Or a doppelgänger! Unfortunately, such tricks won't work on me!''
''Haha! You're colder than you look! Even if it's just an appearance, to try killing something wearing your own mother's face… My, my! I like you even more now! Ah, just to be clear, I don't mean that in a romantic sense, so don't worry.''
''If you have the leisure to chatter so casually, reveal your identity and purpose. Unless you'd prefer another hole in your body.''
Though she held the sword hilt, it was the impaled opponent who seemed to possess the greater composure. As irritation unlike her usual self began to rise—
''Haa… What a shame… All I wanted was for you to become my vessel… Yet you won't even allow a brief conversation…''
''Vessel…?''
''That's right! A vessel! Just recently, one of my friends kept bragging about finally finding a vessel that perfectly matched their taste. I was so envious! I've wanted one of my own for half a century now, so…''
''Enough nonsense! Reveal your true identity and purpose right now, before my patience runs out!''
''Hmm… I only wished to talk with you for a moment… Why are you so angry…? Is this form not working after all…?''
The entity suddenly raised its left hand to its face and, with a sinister smile, swept it downward. The fluid motion was like a stagehand drawing the curtain at the start of a play. That graceful gesture completely bypassed the hero's heightened vigilance.
''Don't try anything foolish… or—''
Her words caught in her throat. No—her breathing, her pulse, her heartbeat, every proof that she was alive seemed to stop. If the earlier sight had frozen her thoughts, this silence bleached them clean.
''It hurts… It hurts… Hero…''
''Cler… ic…''
Her blue pupils contracted and dilated repeatedly like a broken camera lens. Her breathing was ragged, as if she had just finished a marathon. The hand gripping the sword trembled violently, as though it might drop the weapon at any moment. The terrible nightmare that had always tormented her—the regretful past she had always squeezed her eyes shut to avoid—was now vividly replaying right before her.
The face of the man whose right hand she herself had pierced, now shedding sorrowful tears. A face she had longed to see more than anything, and a face she never wanted to see again. The face of her beloved writhing in pain.
''Hero! What do you mean, intruder?!''
''Sister!''
At that moment, Dawna and Victim, having heard her urgent call, burst into the room. But—
''Ah, I don't need you two.''
Wearing the cleric's face, the entity smiled—a literal, ear-to-ear grin—and pointed its index finger at them. Sensing an unprecedented level of danger from that ominous gesture, the hero threw herself forward.
''Dawna! Victim! Don't come—!''
Flash!
Immediately after, a black beam erupted from the entity's finger and swallowed the entire area in an instant.