Chapter 65
Chapter 65
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 65
Chapter Title: Endurance - 4
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"I'll go. Please, no, let me go!"
When the Emperor asked the Saintess for her intentions, Celia nodded her head vigorously without pause.
The Emperor's messenger found it a bit odd, but he still thought it was a relief.
Even if the actual duties the Saintess handled were few, her symbolism and authority were not something even the Pope or the Emperor could easily touch.
Participating in Baron Enerel's journey—when he was furious with her for some unknown reason—wouldn't have been easy at all.
"But... is it really okay for me to go?"
"I've heard the others have already joined the journey. For now, it seems you'll just need to take charge of treating Her Highness the Princess."
"I heard Nerwen is going along... but Pashier and the Princess too?"
"Yes. All the other Hero party members are moving with him."
"That's a relief..."
She had thought that even if she never saw his face again for the rest of her life, there was no helping it.
She was no longer someone who could bring him happiness. If there was any way for him to return and find his happiness, that would be enough for her.
But if she could be just a little greedier, even a tiny bit more...
"I-I'll go! I can do anything!"
"I'll relay that to His Majesty the Emperor. He will surely be pleased."
The carriage prepared by the Emperor was comfortable and luxurious. Celia clasped her hands tightly together and prayed, even though she knew no answer would come today either.
She didn't dare hope he had forgiven others. But it was clear he was at least enduring them enough to expect his return.
If he had the strength to overcome it, he could be happy again. Clutching that faint hope and expectation, the carriage pressed onward.
"Is this... the battlefield?"
The field was still littered with orc corpses scattered everywhere.
Human soldiers' bodies had been collected and buried, but there weren't enough hands to bury all the orcs.
Still, they had been roughly piled into mountains, and though small compared to the size of the corpses, pits dotted the area here and there.
"He was here..."
Even the Saintess, who had seen horrors aplenty, always felt her heart ache at the sight of war and monsters.
Enerel must have fought here. To protect those left behind him.
His true nature hadn't changed.
She should have been here with him too. Like Elenor and Pashier, who had risked their lives fighting alongside him, she should have helped him.
Perhaps that's why they had been accepted—because their merits were acknowledged.
The distance he had traveled wasn't short, and the Saintess had to continue her carriage journey with both anticipation and anxiety.
"This is the place. They say he hasn't left the village yet..."
"We've finally arrived."
Her silver hair swayed this way and that. Filled with joy and awkwardness, Celia stepped down from the carriage and immediately set out to find Enerel.
"Ah..."
He was laughing and playing with the children.
The kids, wielding wooden swords and swarming around, seemed fascinated by Enerel, who was dressed like a proper adventurer complete with a maid in tow.
It was a slightly awkward situation, but he smiled and played along with the children. He even endured their mischievous pranks, laughing all the while.
"Hero!"
Celia ran over with a smile. In that moment, she sensed something off.
"Whoa! It's a cleric sister!"
"Where'd you come from?"
Almost no one disliked young clerics. Even setting aside the Saintess's beautiful appearance and gentle aura, it was common for apprentice clerics to do volunteer work in rural villages like this.
Unless it was some old, grumpy cleric managing the church, there was no reason to dislike a young, beautiful one.
But there was one person who couldn't smile.
"..."
Enerel's expression, which had been bright just moments ago, twisted in an instant. Like the moon eclipsing the sun, the light vanished in a flash.
"Mister, are you okay? You look sick."
One little girl who had been playing with the boys couldn't tear her eyes away from Celia's looks—but she noticed his complexion was off right away.
"N-No, it's nothing. I'm f-fine."
"Isn't she someone you know, mister?"
"Yeah. Yes, I know her."
Celia could feel it.
He was forcing a smile so pitifully.
His anger toward the Saintess hadn't faded. If they had met in another situation, he might have vented it outright.
But right now, he didn't want to show his rage. He didn't want to dampen the spirits of these happily laughing children.
So he smiled. A sense of duty was forcing the smile onto his face.
"L-Let's... talk later."
Celia slipped away from the spot. As long as she was there, it seemed he couldn't smile.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Dozens of magic circles flickered into existence and faded away. The mana powders she had prepared slowly ignited, lost their glow, and scattered into the air.
"It's beyond my abilities. I can't sense any traces in your body."
No human mage could match Pashier's magic.
If even she said she couldn't detect anything with her own skills, the possibility of magic being involved was virtually nil.
"As expected... I see."
"I can't say for certain. Divine power, demonic energy, elven rituals, spirit arts... the world is full of variables upon variables. But at least it's not magic."
To find someone more versed in sorcery than her, you'd need to drag in an ancient dragon that had studied the principles of magic for thousands of years.
There were no curses on Nerwen's body either.
But Nerwen's attitude remained calm.
When convincing him, she had mentioned the Demon King's schemes, and it had seemed a plausible hypothesis then.
However, her current state made it hard to believe it was the Demon King's curse.
"Try opening up a bit more slowly. Elven bodies hold many mysteries... but at least until we arrive, I know more than anyone."
Nerwen bit her lip.
"It's... complicated."
"You mentioned a scent? It's certainly a tricky topic to explain. Human and elven senses differ, and I struggle to understand how you perceive smells."
If there were someone without eyes, no matter how others described the beauty of colors, they could never truly grasp it.
They couldn't comprehend the loveliness of that blue sky or the enchanting glow of the sunset-hued sun.
"On top of that... my emotions feel strange."
"Specifically?"
"I... like him."
The elven elder had certainly mentioned that possibility, but Nerwen had let it go in one ear and out the other at the time.
There was no way she liked him. No way she would act like that toward someone she liked.
She wasn't a child pulling childish, clumsy stunts to get his attention.
She didn't even want his attention. If she truly desired it, there were far better ways than insulting him with her scent.
"Since when?"
"I'm not sure exactly, but I definitely started feeling it... after I began following him around."
Or perhaps a little earlier. An elf wouldn't declare lifelong servitude as a slave without any goodwill.
Though it was her own decision, she was now doubting even her own thoughts and actions so thoroughly.
"Not because of the scent?"
"The scent... it's still there. But it's so insanely sweet..."
The addictive quality had faded somewhat. She no longer chased after him madly like she did in the capital.
But the desire to see his face overwhelmed her. A longing to share even the smallest things dominated her entire being.
"Why, why, why, why..."
She was the World Tree's Great Warrior. Born into nobility from the start.
Serving the Hero was understandable enough, but even accounting for that, her emotions were abnormal.
Specifically, even when they reached the World Tree, she had no desire to break this curse. She was that dominated by him.
It was only because the one holding the leash showed her no interest that she could maintain herself.
"If it were the Demon King's curse, at least then! If this were that vile, insidious curse lingering—if my emotions shouldn't have changed like this!"
If the Demon King had truly cursed her with lust, and by sheer luck—thanks to Nerwen's ignorance and Enerel's courtesy—the party hadn't fallen apart.
Now the caster was gone. Spells without casters often lingered, but changes in effect were rare.
Even in this situation, she feared his anger.
It was she who had despised him. She had no intention of denying it.
Yet before that plain truth, she had clumsily made excuses to delay her punishment.
Death was fine. But she couldn't bear him despising her.
The very fact that such thoughts crossed her mind showed how abnormal she was.
"You've done well. It must have been hard to speak of. But how about confessing it to him directly? At least if you face him with an affectionate expression..."
"I've tried several times... but I've been blocked every time."
Ceres, the maid who trailed after him incessantly, drew a line whenever Nerwen tried to get too close.
She couldn't blame her. Nerwen herself knew better than anyone that Enerel found her unpleasant.
Ceres was merely expressing his will on his behalf.
Nerwen was drowning in despair. Returning to the World Tree was something she naturally had to do, but all she could accomplish there was breaking the curse.
She couldn't win a person's heart. She couldn't dull the blade of hatred.
That burden was hers alone.