It's Really a Misunderstanding
It's Really a Misunderstanding
"Huh...? What are you doing here?"
It was a man who had no business being here.
Isabella stared at him, taken aback.
"What do you mean? I've become a great man who's finally made it, that's what."
The man spoke, folding his arms with an arrogant expression.
"What nonsense. There's no way someone as dim-witted as Leo could become that kind of person."
Performance artist Leo.
Of all the eccentrics Isabella knew, he was the ultimate eccentric. As she recalled, he'd been a pauper who suffered the most dire financial hardship.
"That's... that's an incredibly hurtful thing to say. And what about you? You said you were quitting for good, so what nerve brought you back to Fran?"
They each twisted the knife in the other.
Still, they laughed it off without taking real offense.
After all, they'd been close during their time in Fran.
"Hmph, just as I thought, dim-witted Leo. You can't even know one thing, so of course you couldn't know two things. This Lady Isabella is, you see, an indomitable, undefeatable beauty. A person who cannot be kept down by that level of adversity, I tell you!"
Isabella declared, pulling out a ticket and flashing it.
"Beauty, my foot... And what's this? You gave up painting for a card game? This is pretty trendy, though. You've finally taken a sensible path..."
"What are you talking about? Can't you even read anymore? Did someone finally whack that ignorant head of yours with a canvas? You're already an idiot—what's going to happen if you get even dumber?"
Isabella's expression turned murderous.
Then she grabbed Leo by the collar and shoved the ticket in his face, emphasizing the word 'Host' printed on it.
"I made that card game, you know?"
"Wha... what? You really made that game?"
Leo flinched in shock.
At his reaction, Isabella's pride began to pierce the heavens. Smirking arrogantly, Isabella began to taunt Leo.
"That's right. Unlike some starving artist, this Grand Artist Isabella is already setting the market trends, I'll have you know. So, if you kneel down, beg forgiveness for disrespecting me, and ask to buy me a meal, I might just treat you to a plate of pasta!"
Isabella burst out laughing, teasing Leo.
"What nonsense. I'm not that poor, you know?"
Isabella didn't believe Leo when he said that.
"What nonsense. There's no way anyone would like your bizarre art."
Bizarre—at that word, Leo flared up.
"What nonsense! Do you think everyone is a monkey like you?"
"Then prove it! Tell me what kind of trick you pulled to be in this hotel."
"Fine, you asked for it," Leo said, pulling out his business card. It read: 'Artist directly employed by the Hotel.'
"What? You're an employee?"
Unfortunately, in Fran, being an employee wasn't highly regarded. Most artists cherished the romantic ideal of working independently rather than under a shop's roof.
Since she assumed he was a struggling artist or, like Leo, working directly for someone, Isabella reacted with indifference.
"Still, I come back to life on payday, you know."
"I'm alive every single day~ Unlike someone who's dead for 29 days! And since it's mid-month and your paycheck is probably almost gone, Leo—say this: 'Big sister Isabella, could you please buy me just one meal, or at the very least a single paintbrush?' Go on, say it!"
Isabella knew the pain of a salaried artist all too well. To begin with, the people called artists in Fran had no concept of budgeting or financial planning. Since their hand-to-mouth lives were painfully obvious, Isabella, as she teased Leo, mentally slapped her past self who had once received a maid's salary.
But it didn't matter.
I'm hurting, but my opponent is hurting too.
And what's more, this was an attack coming from someone else.
For the sake of delivering a shock that would be squared, taking a little shock herself was nothing.
"Guh... Why do you understand the life of a salaryman so well?"
Leo groaned in pain as he spoke.
But everything Isabella said was true.
A salary, by its very nature, is half spent repaying last month's debts the moment it arrives, and the remaining half funds about two weeks of pleasure. Then you either scrape by as the money dwindles to zero, or borrow from others to keep living that way.
Leo was no different.
The moment his pay came in, half of it vanished.
Depressed, he would spend lavishly to forget.
As a result, he'd borrow money again and just survive.
He was caught in a spiral of poverty.
"Aagh! Isabella, big sister! Please, save me!"
And so he cast aside his pride.
Discarding the present for future pleasure.
For that was Leo's artistic philosophy and his outlook on life.
Proportioning his head to the golden rectangle, Leo bowed deeply and pleaded with Isabella.
"Hey, you crazy... What are you doing?! This is so embarrassing!"
But that was just Leo's way.
Isabella, flustered by that indescribable embarrassment, was looking around the room when it happened.
"...Isabella?"
Zeke was there, having finished changing into a light uniform.
Since Zeke didn't know the full story,
he pieced the situation together from fragmentary information.
Isabella, flustered.
And a man bowing his head to her.
He called Isabella 'big sister,' but... her family consisted only of two younger siblings in the Holy Kingdom, so he wasn't family.
Then who could it be?
A friend? But do friends act like that?
Then, had they previously been in that kind of relationship?
Indeed, Isabella wasn't lacking, after all.
Having completed this deeply personal series of judgments, Zeke arrived at a conclusion.
It was an emperor's misjudgment, a failure to apply the hedgehog theory.
And not knowing what eccentrics artists were.
A distorted result born from a false premise.
"...I hope you resolve it amicably."
Thus, having mistaken Leo for Isabella's ex-boyfriend, Zeke was about to leave, hoping they would sort out that relationship amicably.
"...Kreed? You're definitely having strange thoughts again, aren't you?"
Startled, Isabella grabbed Zeke's sleeve.
"Really, I am absolutely not in that kind of relationship with that guy!"
Her eyes spun wildly from embarrassment.
A flushed face and a trembling voice to boot.
And so Zeke had decided to believe her, but then it was Leo who upset the apple cart.
"I mean it, without big sister Isabella, I'll die!"
He would die of hunger, that was.
Of course, a person won't die just from eating flour paste.
But could that truly be called a human life?
Wouldn't it be the life of livestock chewing cud?
Then at that moment, the human named Leo ceases to exist.
Philosophically speaking, wouldn't only the livestock remain?
But that was just Leo's personal thought.
"...Isn't that what he's saying? For now, please take good care of him so he doesn't die, Isabella."
Zeke interpreted it differently.
First, since he didn't want Isabella to commit murder, Zeke didn't take the metaphor as a metaphor. Weren't there many cases of people taking their own lives from the pain of heartbreak?
Because it was clear Isabella would be sad if that happened.
Zeke answered with a gentle smile.
"...Shouldn't you be happy?"
Because Zeke didn't want to see Isabella grieving over someone else's death, for the sake of her happiness, he wished the two of them would work out whatever past grudge they had. He stroked Isabella's head and tried to take his leave.
Isabella felt a double layer of embarrassment.
The first was Leo's bullshit,
the second was Zeke's misunderstanding—these two things.
Thanks to that, her reason began to short-circuit.
Just when normal thought and judgment were becoming difficult,
Isabella spoke to Zeke to smooth things over.
"I... Kreed was my first!"
Many words were swallowed up in silence.
But no one could know that unless they were a mind-reader,
and what's more, it was when the hotel guests were murmuring and watching a single girl entangled between two men.
It was an attack launched while gazes were heavily focused on them.
And because Zeke's defense stat dropped to zero when it came to Isabella, those words pierced clean through.
A shock as if a spear had pierced his heart.
Zeke's face began to redden gradually.
"...I... Isabella?"
Zeke was greatly flustered.
He opened his mouth to try to calm her down somehow.
Regardless, Isabella kept speaking.
"Really... I'm not in that kind of relationship with that guy! Kreed truly was my first for everything... Why won't you believe me?"
Since the Demon King and the Saint,
an existence capable of defeating the Hero had arisen for the first time.
That ironclad mind that wouldn't break under countless mental attacks shattered, and the heart of the Hero's body, unreachable by sword or magic, seemed to shatter in that moment.
"My first love was Kree..."
Zeke had a gut feeling that if he heard any more, he would die. Therefore, at the risk of being rude, he covered the greatly agitated Isabella's mouth and began to quickly escape from that hotel.
He shut out the applause and the flustered Leo's voice. All he could hear was the voice of Isabella, who had lost her reason and kept trying to say something even with her mouth covered.
"...Please forgive me, Isabella."
Zeke whispered, still holding Isabella by the waist as he made his escape from the scene.
That day, two paintings began trending in Fran.
One was a portrait of a blonde and a black-haired girl.
The second was a portrait of a brown-haired girl torn between two men. It was the day these two genres began trending.
*
"...You've come back looking like you've caused trouble again."
Canaria noticed it the moment they entered the restaurant. After all, both Zeke and Isabella had come rushing in here with reddened faces as if fleeing.
Canaria sighed, and Rosaria smiled awkwardly.
And so Canaria spoke while exercising her divine power.
"Isabella, what happened?"
-Jik Seikrid, do you truly wish to be castrated?
To Isabella, kindly,
to Zeke, with incomparable coldness.
Two contrasting questions. At that,
Isabella gulped from embarrassment.
And Zeke gulped from fear.
The sight of two people unable to answer rashly.
"...Please don't be too hard on them."
As ever, mediation was always Rosaria's role.
Although another person had been added to the mix.
"...I asked the staff to set up a barrier. So if you have something to say, please speak freely."
Rosaria spoke, creating a barrier.
"...S... so, you see, I... I..."
But it was still difficult to report it in a sane state of mind. Isabella was sweating profusely, a wreck, her eyes darting about, unable to continue her sentence.
And Zeke couldn't even open his mouth.
-So, have you written your will in advance?
After all, it was a situation where he felt his life was being threatened. Seated at a table where the three beings capable of killing the Hero were gathered, the Hero was even beginning to feel fear.
Wouldn't the battlefield be better?
Anywhere but this seat seemed fine.
"...Anyway, there was that misunderstanding! Lord Kreed had a strange misunderstanding... and I, in my fluster, spouted nonsense..."
Isabella's report was incoherent.
"...What kind of misunderstanding did you have?"
Calming people was Rosaria's specialty. To guide the stammering Isabella, she gently asked her again.
"Th... that is... well... I... that..."
But the broken Isabella couldn't answer. She fidgeted and twisted her fingers, showing signs of anxiety, unable to speak with a face still burning with embarrassment.
"...Zeke, what kind of misunderstanding did you have about Isabella?"
So this time, she shifted the question.
Regrettably, since the person asking was Rosaria, Canaria ended her murderous divine-power conversation and cut it off with a final command to answer without a single lie.
Zeke organized his thoughts for a moment.
As soon as that was settled, he opened his mouth.
"...I thought Isabella had a previous lover. A man named Leo was bowing his head, saying he would die without Isabella, so I was certain he would take his own life from heartbreak, and I misunderstood."
Zeke spoke, trying to steady his trembling voice as much as possible.
"...A fine thing to do."
Canaria rebuked him.
"...Don't be too hard on him. He's reflecting, isn't he?"
Rosaria mediated as much as possible.
Zeke felt like he had seen this scene somewhere before.
It certainly overlapped with the image of a stern king scolding someone at his younger sibling's wedding meeting, and a queen beside him doing her utmost to restrain him.
But thinking it irreverent, he erased the thought.
"...So, what did Isabella say?"
Since he had heard Zeke's side, after all.
Having struck the right cheek, the intention was now to strike the left.
The fairness emphasized by the Sacred Scripture was forcibly granting the right to speak to the critically wounded Isabella.
"...Pardon?"
But Isabella was in no state to receive it. She was so emotionally shredded that a single needle would do her in. Speaking these words now was as heavy as a command to commit suicide by driving a greatsword through her own heart.
At the same time, the words she had spoken flashed by.
The regrets of past days flashing by like a life flash.
Lead, supporting cast, direction, cinematography, audience—Isabella.
Title—That Moment I Don't Want to Remember.
A short film played back in her head.
A tiny Isabella sat down with popcorn and cola.
The screen passed by with a 3, 2, 1,
and soon the romance film began.
A film starting with the bowing Leo, the misunderstanding Zeke, and the pitiful beauty Isabella caught between them.
- ...Shouldn't you be happy?
The audience's favorite actor appeared.
And his line was deeply meaningful, too.
Even while covering her eyes, she made gaps between her fingers and kept watching his face.
The scene transitioned to Isabella, flustered by those words.
She was utterly embarrassed, even a little crazed. In fact, her eyes had even gone unfocused from paralyzed reason.
Simultaneously, roses bloomed on the screen. It was a well-received directorial choice praised for enhancing her pitiful charm. At the same time, the heroine's confession that adorned the climax began.
-I... Kreed was my first!
She confessed without caring how many people were there. The directorial choice of muting all surrounding sounds was also praised as the work of a pro director who had handled many films.
Simultaneously, his signature classic OST began to play.
-...I... Isabella?
The startled male lead cut off the beginning. The classic piece began to play softly.
- Really... I'm not in that kind of relationship with that guy! Kreed truly was my first for everything... Why won't you believe me?
An extremely sorrowful music represented the emotions. The lighting illuminated only her, emphasizing it. A standard directorial choice to adorn the finale of that moment of sincere confession.
The tiny Isabella watching let out a squeal of delight, enjoying it so much she spilled the popcorn she was holding.
- My first love was Kree...
Thus, the line that drove in the final wedge. All audience members anticipated the calling of the name that would follow.
But this work was a serial drama. Because it was a tragic film forced to leave its ending ambiguous for the sake of Part 2.
With her mouth covered, fleeing—it foreshadowed Part 2. The theater closed, and the audience, tiny Isabella, came out. She giggled, as if pleased, blushing and smiling bashfully.
And then it flashed back, returning to reality.
The fantasy film had ended.
All the heated memories surfaced.
And now she had to explain it to the critics... but she couldn't muster that courage at all.
"...Could we talk about it later?"
Because just imagining it made her feel like dying.
And fortunately, the critic Rosaria accepted that, simply asking her to tell them later once she'd calmed down, and soothed her by having her start the meal.
'...An angel.'
Isabella judged the Rosaria before her eyes as such. Perhaps because the Saintess was right beside her. Still, troubled over what to call that radiance shining equal to the Saintess, Isabella thought of it as an angel's radiance.
So in that moment, Rosaria became the angel of benevolence, settling into Isabella's heart.
She looked upon her master with eyes full of reverence.
Indeed, today as well, Isabella's loyalty had risen.
Now it solidified beyond that of a loyal retainer into something like a shadow warrior who would lightly offer up a single life.
Of course, there was someone beside her whose loyalty was even more solidified.
-...Tell me honestly later. I'll hear it out and then decide whether to let you live or kill you, so write your will in advance.
That was Zeke, standing on the line between life and death.
Since he had no right to claim it was unfair,
he simply accepted that fate in silence.