Arsen's Hero (3)
Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack—
…The sound of rough, unmistakably angry footsteps echoed through the corridor.
She wasn't running, nor was she even walking at a particularly brisk pace, yet the distance between us seemed to grow exponentially with every passing second. I attempted to half-run after Rebecca, but my strength failed me, and I ended up collapsing face-first onto the cold floor.
The debilitating aftereffects of total mana exhaustion hadn't even begun to wear off yet—my body remained a wrecked shell of its former self. In that moment, I felt the school nurse's stern warning vibrating deep within my bones: do not, under any circumstances, push yourself further.
“……”
Rebecca glanced back at me with a subtle, almost imperceptible movement. I had fully expected her to ignore my pathetic state completely, so this small gesture of acknowledgement was honestly quite surprising.
“Why on earth are you still following me?” she asked, her voice tight.
“You ran off so suddenly, so I naturally felt the need to chase after you.”
“I told you, I was not running.”
Right, as if the CCTV footage from the guest house corridor wouldn't clearly show a very different story.
Rebecca approached me slowly, eventually extending a hand as if to help me back onto my feet. I hesitated for a fleeting second—debating whether I should actually take it—before finally grabbing hold and pulling myself up.
The place we eventually arrived at, following Rebecca’s lead, was the prestigious restaurant district within the guest house. It was the exact same spot I had visited with Professor Biern just before the grueling entrance exams had commenced.
Perhaps this was the true starting point of all this complicated mess. The overwhelming sense of déjà vu hit me so hard that I actually paused mid-step, momentarily lost in thought.
“Is the professor planning on joining us as well?”
“He probably won't. He's currently swamped with the mountain of administrative cleanup following the dungeon incident.”
…Good, then. While I didn't mind seeing him during official class hours, meeting Biern privately was definitely not my idea of a fun time right now. The timing was just too poor.
He would undoubtedly be suspicious about how a Demonkin managed to pop out of that specific dungeon, and the stress of handling the fallout would likely have him on edge. Knowing Biern, he had likely already pieced together the fragments of the truth without much difficulty.
After all, he was one of the very few individuals at Arsen Academy who was fully aware that I was an Esperand.
Regardless, this entire situation involved a tangled web of interests between the Esperand family, the Demonkin Association, and Professor Biern. There was absolutely no need for me to poke the bear unnecessarily, especially when sparks could fly in very unpredictable and dangerous directions.
Rebecca entered a private room that had clearly been reserved well in advance. From her brief interaction with the staff to the way she took her seat, every movement flowed as naturally and effortlessly as water.
“Is this how you always handle your meals?”
“Not always, no.”
“Even so, I’ve heard that your dorm and the guest house are quite a considerable distance apart.”
I had half-expected her to ignore the comment, and indeed, no answer came. Since I had moved into the guest house myself, it was just a staircase away for me. But Rebecca had to travel all the way back from the second-year dorms; the route was an undeniable hassle, as Arsen's layout placed the guest house at the far, isolated edge of the campus.
Rebecca didn't need to call for the staff. She simply offered a few pointed glances toward the counter, and from the look of things, she and the employees clearly shared a tight, well-established bond.
I hadn't actually planned on freeloading a luxury meal when I’d tagged along by chance, but the situation seemed to be heading that way.
“Your orders have arrived, Master Rebecca.”
My plate and utensils were neatly set before me, along with what appeared to be a bottle of exceptionally fine liquor—an unexpected bonus to the meal.
“…Royal Vailus, vintage 735.”
“I didn't realize the guest house even carried items of this caliber.”
“It is precisely because it is the guest house that they are able to sell such things legally within the academy grounds.”
“Fascinating, to say the least.”
While Arsen's various restaurants did occasionally serve alcohol, strictly speaking, it was a violation of the official regulations—especially for first-year cadets. However, everyone tended to turn a blind eye to it, so no real issues ever arose.
Back at the Esperand estate, I had consumed plenty of this specific vintage. Shion Esperand's original body was notoriously weak to spirits, so I couldn't exactly down entire bottles like they were water, but the scene itself was familiar to the point of boredom.
Seeing it play out here—not at some high-stakes noble gathering, but within Arsen's humble restaurant district—was strangely intriguing.
Rebecca filled two empty glasses with a steady hand before carefully picking up her knife to begin her meal. I watched her for a moment, waiting for the perfect timing before I decided to ask.
“So, what was the real reason you came to my dorm tonight?”
Her knife paused mid-cut. She looked up at me briefly with a sharp gaze, then tightened her grip and continued.
“I had something I needed to tell you. I simply didn't expect you to have company over.”
“You could have easily given me a heads-up—I would have made sure to clear my schedule.”
“Yes. That is why I chose to leave once I realized it was an unannounced and poorly timed visit.”
Whatever. It was clear she wanted to save face and maintain her pride, so I decided to play along for the time being.
Rebecca suddenly snapped her fingers. It was a simple, elegant gesture, but I immediately felt the faint, shimmering ripple of mana—a mid-level spell. Silence.
She had cast a specialized spell used only for the most confidential of conversations right there at the dinner table. In an instant, all ambient noise from the restaurant vanished; all that remained was the quiet, rhythmic clink of her knife against the porcelain plate.
In that sudden, heavy hush, Rebecca finally spoke.
“The recent Demonkin subjugation changed a great deal for me.”
“I truly hope those changes were for the better.”
“I’ve even begun to doubt whether I am truly fit to lead the student council—or Arsen itself—when I found myself barely able to protect my own life.”
I sat in quiet contemplation, tilting my wine glass slowly. The lingering, bitter notes of the dark fruit danced on my lips.
“That is the primary reason I came to you so late at night. You are quite literally the only person I feel I can talk to about these things.”
Not even her closest and most trusted aide, Secretary Amelia, was aware of Rebecca's deepest secrets. Had the recent life-threatening events sparked some sort of new internal awareness? It could be a positive change, certainly—but it could also swing in a much darker direction depending on her mental state.
“The student council simply cannot function without my presence. I am always the sole decision-maker; every single thing revolves around my judgment.”
It was a classic setup, reminiscent of the downfall of many historical dictators.
If Rebecca were to crumble under the pressure, the entire student council of Arsen would collapse along with her, and administrative chaos would be an absolute certainty.
“Therefore, I must make a choice. For the sake of Arsen’s future, I need to find someone capable of stepping into my role if the need arises.”
“Do you not have enough faith in Secretary Amelia?”
“…I have leaned on her far too much already. I don't wish to burden her with any more of my weight.”
In the original storyline, Amelia had indeed stepped up as the interim president after Rebecca’s fall. The election drama that occurred during her tenure was a pivotal episode—it marked the end of Act 1 and served as the bridge to Act 2.
Rebecca took a long sip from her glass. It had been full only a moment ago; now, it was completely empty.
“Sion Illeionhart, there is no one else who can do what is necessary but you.”
“Are you saying you want me to wear the student council president’s hat?”
“No official hat is required. I just… need you to stand by her side and support her when the time comes.”
“You’ve been talking this entire time as if you’re about to vanish into thin air.”
“……”
Rebecca's lips pressed shut in a hard, thin line. I didn't press her any further. The silence stretched between us for a long time—before she finally broke it with a trembling voice.
“…It finally hit me.”
Her glass remained empty; she just twirled it lightly between her fingers, speaking with a haunting calmness.
“Everything I have managed to accomplish so far—it all feels utterly futile. If fate is truly inescapable no matter what actions we take, then what is left for us? Perhaps the only thing left is to simply accept it peacefully.”
“Silly, baseless thoughts like that have been piling up in my mind lately. It’s been happening ever since I handled the matter of your fraudulent enrollment—the very first time.”
“That is why I am asking this of you now. Not as the student council president, but as the personal representative of Grand Duke Grander.”
To any outside observer, this would likely sound like nothing more than the rambling of someone who had had too much to drink. Without the Silence spell in place, anyone would have assumed as much.
But Rebecca possessed a superhuman constitution much like my own. Downing an entire bottle of Royal Vailus wouldn't faze her in the slightest.
Her eyes were a deep, wine-red, but they were incredibly sharp and lucid. These weren't pointless worries; they were the fears of someone who could see the writing on the wall.
“If the day ever comes where I turn into one of those Demonkin.”
“If I lose my reason and begin to harm the people who are important to me, like Amelia, with these very hands.”
“Then, I want you to use your own hands to—”
Clack!
“No.”
I cut her off sharply before she could finish that horrific sentence. I didn't want to hear the rest—there was absolutely no way I was going to let her say it.
“That will not happen. No matter how dire the situation becomes, I will not harm you myself—nor will I ever let things reach such a tragic conclusion.”
In the original game, no amount of retries or different choices could change that ending. It was the system-locked fate of Rebecca.
The system had decreed: You must die in Act 1.
She was designed to be a disposable villain, mere fodder to facilitate the growth of the player and the primary protagonists.
No matter the playstyle, the choices made, or the paths taken—Rebecca always became the final boss of Act 1, only to be slain by Kyle’s hand.
Her tragic backstory was always revealed only after she had already fallen. It was the definition of "too little, too late."
Every single event in the original narrative was funneled toward her eventual transformation into a Demonkin.
But now, this world was real. It wasn't just code on a screen anymore.
Like bumping into Lara Steelhiden by chance, surviving to the very end of the entrance exams alongside Iri, or exorcising the evil spirit that should have infested the third-year dorms much earlier than expected.
“There is always a better path than the one laid out for us.”
Reality possessed significantly more variables than a game—and those variables weren't always negative ones.
Take my own actions: Helping Kyle's group had resulted in the destruction of Shanellia Hall, but that event had directly drawn the attention and support of the Holy Church to Arsen.
There were no deaths in the dormitory ghost fiasco, and while a Demonkin had appeared in the mock dungeon, not a single cadet had been seriously harmed.
Furthermore, the relations between the Esperand and Grander families had not soured as they were supposed to.
Fates could be twisted. They could be changed through sheer force of will.
“You truly won't know the outcome until the very end. Sometimes the most promising plans snag at the last minute, while the most hopeless situations resolve themselves in the most unexpected ways.”
The protagonists of this world must live for me to live. And I must continue to live so that I can save them when the script inevitably goes off the rails.
Where this massive snowball will eventually roll? That remains unknown.
But if they are within my reach, I will always extend my hand—and I will grab theirs with everything I have.
Surely, saving a single fated side character in the process is a price the world can afford to pay.
…And the fated character closest to me right now?
It was Arsen's student council president, Rebecca von Anastasia Grander.
“Just ease up a bit—that is the only piece of advice I have for you. No matter what challenges come our way, I promise I will not abandon you.”
“……”
“So if you ever need anything, all you have to do is say the word. We share that kind of connection now. Like the historical bond between Esperand and Grander.”
When Rebecca had reached out to me once before, I had refused her. It had been the best decision for both of us at that time.
But now, I was the one reaching out first. The circumstances had changed; the impossibilities I once saw from behind a monitor were now viable paths to follow.
Rebecca didn't yield her position easily, but she answered in her own characteristic way.
“…Yes.”
Her voice was as thin as a thread, but she reached out and took my hand firmly.
And I had no intention of ever letting go.
That night, for the first time in a long while, I slept soundly. Isabel had left a brief note before vanishing; the magic tool she had gifted me ticked away like a real hourglass, emitting a gentle, soothing mana into the room.
I lay in my bed and finally allowed my eyes to close.
There would be no nightmares for me tonight, at least.
The tragic awakening of Rebecca as a Demonkin occurred exactly two weeks later.
She was the final boss of Act 1, the one designed to corner and break the Player.
It was the shocking twist that signaled the end of the first chapter of this world.
The grueling subjugation battle against the Sword Ghost Rebecca had finally begun.