The Hero's Deception
The Hero's Deception
It was the hour when moonlight, adorning the star-strewn night sky, gently illuminated the earth. Zeke and Isabella were walking along a forest trail. Unsure if trouble might arise, Zeke had made his holy sword glow, ensuring their nighttime stroll wasn't dark.
The holy sword, shining with golden light, served as a torch.
"...So, what is it you wanted to talk about?"
Isabella asked, visibly tense.
What on earth did Zeke have to say to her?
Isabella couldn't guess at all.
"It's nothing much."
In fact, there was a lot.
But it was still difficult to speak.
She currently had no memory.
He couldn't bring up many of the stories yet.
"I merely wanted to hear your thoughts."
He began to speak, his tone calm and even.
"...First, I have committed a great sin. I am someone who may never be forgiven by the Saintess and Lady Rosaria, the both of them."
It was an unexpected confession from Zeke.
To Isabella, it was a surprise.
She had no idea what he could have done to say such a thing.
And wasn't Rosaria just a noble from a provincial village? Why on earth was her name entangled with Zeke's?
No matter what, he was the Emperor of the Empire.
Then one possibility arose in Isabella's mind.
"...By any chance, are you involved in a relationship with Lady Rosaria?"
Was her suspicion correct after all?
What if that thought she'd had back then wasn't a misunderstanding?
If so, didn't she truly have no shame?
Had she been blushing and unable to calm her heart, committing the trash-like act of loving her mistress's lover?
Isabella was tormented by guilt.
And Zeke, reading that, opened his mouth.
"...What kind of relationship do you think it is?"
Zeke answered with a question.
He wanted her to answer for herself so there would be no repercussions.
He met her question with another.
Isabella pondered.
Should she say this?
But what if she said it and he affirmed it...
'No. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.'
She wasn't unaware of his true intentions.
So she asked her question directly.
"...I thought that Kreed and Lady Rosaria were lovers, or if not that, in a relationship that was considerably close."
Zeke smiled faintly at her answer.
The unexpected smile made Isabella tense up.
"...How could that be? A sinner like me, daring to be Lady Rosaria's lover? Even if you've misunderstood the premise, you've misunderstood it completely, Isabella."
Zeke laughed awkwardly.
What kind of lover forces their beloved to commit suicide?
Besides, if Zeke truly harbored such feelings, Canaria would have crushed his heart and killed him.
In the end, Isabella's guess was wrong from the start.
"Lady Rosaria and I are not lovers."
He kindly corrected that premise.
"...If anything, she is a person far too good for someone like me."
A bitter taste seemed to spread across his tongue.
For that day had dealt a heavy blow to Zeke as well.
He could feel the sharp, metallic taste of the chain binding his mind.
But Isabella's suspicion didn't vanish.
Rather, its focus seemed to shift slightly.
Why on earth was the Emperor reacting like that?
And what sin had he committed to act that way?
A thought bloomed in her heart: had there been an unspoken incident known only to them, perhaps known to no one else at all?
"...It is a unilateral relationship. One where I, from my side, must atone for them, one-sidedly."
A cloud of ulterior motive gradually bloomed in his heart.
And just as it was about to settle in,
Zeke continued to speak.
"...But arrogantly, I came to admire a person connected to them. A person, now gone from this world, who suffered an indelible wound because of my actions back then."
That would certainly be the case.
Because they had been very close friends.
Seeing your friends lose their minds after someone leaves this world.
Who wouldn't be wounded?
On top of that, her very life had been in danger,
and her family's safety had been threatened.
And Zeke was the root cause of the situation turning out that way.
He hadn't orchestrated it, but he had been part of the process, and he had stood before the wounded person as the one who created the outcome.
Originally, he was a sinner for whom kneeling wouldn't be enough.
"...I couldn't apologize. I should say I didn't have the chance. But after that, I continued to atone on my own. I resolved to atone for the unhappiness I caused for the rest of my life."
Zeke looked at his severed ring finger.
It was the finger he had cut off before the Demon King, swearing to become a noble and righteous person, one who would not run away.
And so, he didn't stop and continued speaking.
"...So, in my own way, I want to ask Isabella, who has watched those two for a long time."
Of course, this was a cowardly question.
"...If Isabella were that person, may I ask what you would do to be able to forgive me?"
He asked the woman whose memory had been erased.
How would she forgive him?
He resorted to a trick to craft a peace of mind for himself.
The severed ring finger throbbed.
The phantom pain of a twisted conscience grazed that spot.
"...What sin did you commit to ask such a thing?"
Her questions were many.
Whenever something tried to surface, it felt foggy.
It was a feeling brimming with déjà vu and a sense of incongruity.
"...I cannot tell you the details."
It was a story he must not tell.
The people qualified to speak of Isabella's past were not a sinner like Zeke, but her friends Canaria and Rosaria.
"...But I committed a very great sin. It was a sin that tormented her to the point of falling into despair and giving up her own life and dreams."
Zeke hadn't turned a blind eye to Isabella from the start.
Though he couldn't stand before her himself, he knew how much she was suffering through Canaria's rebukes.
He knew the Isabella that Isabella herself didn't know.
"...Then, what did that person think of Kreed?"
But Isabella didn't know that.
So she could only ask Zeke in return.
Because she still lacked the information to give a definite answer.
But her question was a poor one.
"...I don't know. Because while I hesitated, that person became unable to speak."
He hadn't heard the answer.
It would have been better if he had.
If she had personally spat out her hatred,
if she had resented him and slapped his cheek.
Zeke wouldn't have made this choice.
But while he hesitated to approach her, consumed by guilt, Isabella had asked Canaria to erase her memories. In the end, he had never heard Isabella's thoughts.
Of course, he could guess.
"...But she would surely have disliked me."
He had heard she cursed the world.
She resented the Holy Kingdom, and hated the Pope.
And above all, he heard she lived disliking herself.
"I suspect she probably wished for my death."
It was speculation.
But that would be the most logical conclusion.
"...But Kreed is still atoning, isn't he? You keep offering apologies that might never reach her, acknowledging and accepting your fault every single day, don't you?"
The unknowing Isabella spoke.
People were inherently creatures whose thoughts changed easily.
They were beings who could open their mouths and speak so simply.
Trapped by Zeke's snare, the kind-hearted Isabella uttered words she might later regret.
"...To that extent, wouldn't that person perhaps forgive you someday?"
Not knowing that person was herself.
Isabella lightly placed forgiveness on her lips.
"It's just my opinion, but if those feelings and actions keep going unchanged, if you live without lies and without hiding anything, I think... maybe someday you could be forgiven for those actions. Though, I guess it depends on the severity."
Because she didn't know what the sin was.
She said that he could be forgiven someday.
"...Is that so."
Zeke smiled bitterly.
Enough that tears might have fallen if he hadn't controlled himself.
The turning triangle of his heart stung sharply.
But even so, he found solace.
Because the person herself, no one else, had spoken the word 'forgiveness,' even if it might change later.
Zeke gained hope from a possibility that existed.
"...Thank you for forgiving me."
Saying this, Zeke looked up at the sky.
The clear winter sky displayed an embroidered Milky Way.
Its curved shape, like a drawn arc, resembled a smile.
Then Zeke looked back at Isabella before him.
Her figure, illuminated by starlight and the holy sword, was beautiful.
Of course, the same was true for Isabella.
Because to Isabella's eyes, the Hero standing with the Milky Way at his back, clutching the shining holy sword, also looked beautiful.
Both their faces flushed red.
Captivated by that beauty,
their hearts were on the verge of being stolen by kindness.
Of course, Isabella didn't know.
What the Zeke before her had done in the past.
To the Saintess, to Rosaria, and to the three people he spoke of.
But even so, his figure, acknowledging and facing his sin and devoting his lifetime to atoning for it, seemed kind.
Though that was only because she didn't know the truth.
It was when she stood there blankly like that.
Zeke had come close before her before she knew it.
"...Kreed?"
It was an unfamiliar closeness.
Because of that, she noticed things usually hidden from view.
Starting with the fact that their height difference was this great.
His long-grown eyelashes, his Star Eyes that gave off a soft glow.
And above all, a face that appeared beautiful beyond mere handsomeness— everything was different from usual.
Isabella's heart pounded as if about to burst.
The intensity grew each time their eyes met.
"...For right now, please call me Zeke."
As soon as he finished speaking, he embraced Isabella.
The sensation of the cold armor touching her body spread.
Yet, she felt a warmth emanating from his heart.
Atonement and apology, deception and sincerity.
It was the warmth of a flame conjured by a mix of emotions.
"...Zeke."
She called that name as he'd instructed.
The cold armor seemed to grow lukewarm.
"...Thank you."
Zeke expressed his gratitude.
'...And, I'm sorry.'
Inwardly, he swallowed his apology.
He told himself he could only do this now, before she had regained her memories—apologize for deceiving her. He told himself the present, when she didn't know the truth and didn't loathe him, was his chance. And so, cowardly opening his mouth to apologize, he felt deeply sorry for holding her.
Thinking this, Zeke quietly held Isabella.
It was a pain like a sword being driven into his chest.
Though it was probably only a fraction of the claw-pain those women would have felt back then.
Zeke was deeply agonized inside by this pain.
And so, to remember this warmth from a refuge created by self-deception that he could not hold onto for much longer, he engraved this entire process into his eyes and mind as much as possible.
For when love became hatred.
For when smiles became contempt.
For when happiness became unhappiness.
For when delusion became obliteration.
To prepare for his approaching unhappy future, he would build a fortress wall for his heart with this present warmth.
With bricks called lies and a sturdy gate called sincerity.
To somehow block the daggers that Isabella would throw at him once she regained her memory. Thinking this, he built the wall.
The ring finger he had sworn not to run away with throbbed.
But if he didn't do at least this, he felt he would die.
To survive and atone and apologize for this sin, for the first and last time, he resorted to the obstinacy of breaking that oath.
It was immensely warm.
So much so that he couldn't feel the winter wind at all.
And it hurt immensely.
As if to tell him that this happiness was fake.
It felt as if the spikes of a deeply bone-piercing guilt were being hammered throughout his whole body.
Even so, he just wanted to keep feeling it.
This warmth,
this happiness, even if it was fake.
'...I'm sorry.'
For doing this to you, cowards that we are, while you've lost your memory.
And inwardly, he swore once more.
Next time, certainly, when she had regained her memories, he would apologize.
He would embrace all the resentment, fury, curses, and hatred... all the emotions she had felt and crumbled under that day. And he would place them atop the burden of atonement and carry them for life.
Thinking this, he did not stop the embrace.
It was a night when the Milky Way was beautiful.
It was a forest where one could almost hear the scent of flowers that bloom only at night and the songs of birds not yet asleep.
And it was an immensely warm winter,
and the snow falling late at night was incredibly gentle.
Yet none of it entered his eyes.
What was visible was each other's forms.
What was audible was each other's breathing.
What was felt was only each other's sincerity.
Though, one was twisted a bit.
*
Rosaria was fixing her disheveled clothes.
And a satisfied Canaria was on the bed.
"...Canaria."
Just then, Rosaria called Canaria.
"...Would it be alright if I asked now, what that worry was about back then?"
The image of Canaria worrying before their departure had come to mind. It had been a long time since she'd seen her with such a serious, troubled face. She had kept it tucked away in her heart, wondering what on earth it could be.
So she asked now, during this peaceful time flowing by.
Canaria hesitated for a moment.
But she thought it was meaningless to hide it since she would find out soon anyway, so perhaps she could tell her now? Having thought this,
she told Rosaria the reason.
"...I had a promise with Isabella."
Not the Isabella of now,
but the Isabella from before she lost her memory.
There was a promise she had shared with her.
"...And I have to go to Fran to be able to keep that promise. The timing is an issue, but... it shouldn't matter. After all, it's Isabella who will take responsibility."
Saying this, Canaria took out a wooden case she had carefully stored in her luggage. Then, creating a key, she brought out the item it had been safeguarding back into the world for the first time in a long while.
"...It's a letter."
A letter as clean as if written just now.
It had been kept inside the Cradle of Authority.
As if it must never be allowed to disappear.
It was a letter preserved with immense care.
"...It's the last letter Isabella wrote before she lost her memory. And she asked me to deliver this letter in her stead when I thought a good time had come."
Canaria had intended to deliver Isabella's letter in her place when the time came that paradise was completed, or when a time came that her friends' safety was guaranteed to a similar degree.
'...I should consider it fate.'
-...There's no way I'd go back to Fran in person, but if by some chance you do end up going, it's fine to deliver it then.
The Isabella from before her memory loss had said that.
But ironically, it was Isabella herself, after losing her memory, who had suggested going to Fran.
It was just awkward.
-...Deliver this letter to my teacher, Canaria.
She remembered the tear stains left on her cheeks,
and how terribly emaciated she had been,
and above all, that forced, lifeless smile came to mind.
"...That's the reason I ended up going to Fran, Rosaria."
Delivering Isabella's letter to Mikel.
And keeping the promise depending on the outcome.
Those two things were the reason Canaria had moved. And perhaps, it might even be the reason Isabella was drawn along as well.
Since it would be the day the teacher and student met for the first time in a long while.
Even if that student couldn't remember.