Vestige (13)
Kyle didn't explode the way I expected. No lunging, no violence.
I'd been half-braced for a fist to the face.
He looked composed. Almost too composed.
I'd been certain he'd grab me by the collar, throw a punch, throttle me—at least drop his voice and threaten me. Something.
"What gives you the right to say something so cruel?!"
The female knight beside me was the one who screamed it, charging forward like she meant to tear into me.
Not that ill-bred Kyle. Her.
Kyle caught her arm and pulled her back. She twisted, trying to shake him off, but his grip held.
I shot her a sidelong glance, then stuck the cigarette Estelle had given me between my lips. A small flame flickered at my fingertip as I lit it. I drew the smoke in deep, held it, and exhaled a long stream straight into her face.
Gray haze coiled around her features. She coughed, still thrashing against Kyle's hold, and the second she wrenched free and stumbled forward I kicked her in the shin.
Her balance failed. She pitched forward and hit the floor.
For a moment I considered stomping her head while she was down, but if she grabbed my ankle I'd get beaten to death, so I let it go.
Kyle standing right there wasn't the real problem. I couldn't beat that knight woman even one-on-one.
Still, something felt off. Strange, in a bodily way.
After walking out of that forest—the one where I'd hallucinated Estelle, Serepina, and Levina dying, and watched Rineta perform whatever savage ritual that was—my body felt like it was finally answering to me.
Kyle helped the knight up from the floor, murmuring something to soothe her.
I looked down at them both.
"Same village, huh. Guess you knew more than you let on."
The Rineta I saw there couldn't be the same Rineta I knew—the one who, despite being a commoner, had the gall to speak banmal to me without a trace of respect, who tried to murder the Heir Apparent of Edelgard, who dreamed of revolution while tangled up with heretics.
If she was the same person, I wanted to believe she wasn't.
Rineta, who asked me to run away with her and accepted it when I refused.
Rineta, who hanged herself when she learned everyone in her village was dead.
Rineta, who told me there was nowhere for either of us to go.
Which one had she been?
Maybe all three. Maybe none.
What state had she been in when we first met? I didn't even know that much. I'd never gone to the village at night.
I wanted to ask, but her head had been crushed to pulp. No corpse to retrieve, nothing to resurrect. Even if I could bring her back, she wouldn't be able to answer. It was meaningless.
A sigh leaked out.
Something about every person I met lately—problems just kept piling up, one after another.
Should the esteemed someone standing right in front of me be the one working hard to collect Endings? Or was I supposed to keep dying over and over, chasing them down myself? So far the rewards amounted to nothing, and now the system couldn't be bothered to show me anything except twisted hallucinations.
I wasn't even sure this vermin of a commoner was the protagonist.
Since when does a protagonist die in one hit from a surprise attack—from behind, no less? That's not how it works.
If it was a game, what was the title again?
No. Had it been a novel?
Serepina, Estelle, Levina—their faces had burned themselves into my memory with perfect clarity. But the protagonist's childhood friend? That one never surfaced once in those original memories.
And me. Who had I been, originally?
The laptop. The tower of plastic coffee cups. The books stacked on the desk, the row of caps hanging from the hook on the door.
That much came back effortlessly.
My thoughts kept trying to skid off into useless directions.
"A commoner who didn't know his place, from a background so insignificant it barely registered—now you'll be famous. Not for insignificance, though. For other things."
I aimed the words at Kyle.
I didn't want to be near him. I didn't want to have a conversation. He could go save the world on his own, defeat his enemies, handle it.
I didn't like this commoner hero who'd wormed his way in on my wedding day with Estelle—this insect.
If supplies ran low, he could gnaw on demon meat. Roast a corpse from the battlefield. Figure it out himself. I had no idea why he'd come looking for me at all.
If he hadn't, I could've spent one more day with the Estelle who remembered me. Not the Estelle who forgot.
"Kyle. Do you eat people too?"
I hadn't actually seen Rineta eat anyone. I didn't know what she really did. But she was a heretic, she ran with demons—she had to be guilty of something.
"You're from the same village as Rineta. So? You light a fire and eat people too?"
Kyle didn't answer. His expression stayed blank, empty.
"The Heir Apparent of Edelgard nearly died because of one worthless commoner. And what? You're saying you're the one who identified her as a heretic? Is this a joke?
Hey. I asked if you eat people.
This insolent bug won't open his mouth when he ought to, and when it's time to answer, he just—"
"That's enough. Say one more word and I'll make you regret it."
The knight snapped, teeth grinding audibly, voice dropping into a growl.
I walked up to her. Leaned in close. Whispered.
"I don't know which family you come from. I don't know what you do. And I'm starting to think I ought to find out.
Because a stupid bitch who doesn't even realize that my expulsion from the family was just smoke and mirrors—someone should have a word with your house about discipline."
The knight clenched her jaw and lifted her gaze. Our eyes met. Her pupils wavered, just slightly, then she lowered them again and stared at the floor.
"Parents don't tend to cheer on their daughters playing at knighthood. But you walk around with your mouth running loose.
And lofty talk about insolence and punishment, tangled up with heretics of all things... I wonder what your parents would say if I passed that along.
Maybe they'd let it slide. Ill-bred, stupid household like yours—who knows."
When I finished, the knight started making choked little noises. Couldn't tell if she was crying or swallowing rage. Her shoulders trembled. She glared at me without a sound.
Though I thought I saw a tear slip free.
Meeting her eyes, she struck me as terribly young.
Seeing someone cry makes the urge to say anything else just drain away.
No answer came, so I didn't push further. My plan had been to get beaten like a dog by Kyle or this knight, then run to Estelle or Levina sobbing, whining that those bastards hit me and demanding they punish them.
Undignified, sure. But I couldn't lay a hand on Kyle or the knight myself. My reputation aside, I didn't have the skill.
I stepped a little closer to Kyle and spoke low.
"Rineta was a heretic.
And you're here now. So you'll kill heretics.
You're not some clueless kid from a tiny village anymore. You're a commoner pest who doesn't know his place and runs his mouth."
"Rineta too... a heretic..."
"I won't interfere this time. Special exception. Handle it yourself. Levina said we'd hold out a few more years—I'll trust that."
Estelle would stay beside me, at least.
* * *
Today was ordinary. I met Serepina at a quiet café, another date like always.
Warm sunlight spilled through the window. The café was full of soft coffee fragrance and the sweet smell of fresh bread. Everything was peaceful.
People crowding the streets, the lively bustle of the shopping district, couples and groups looking happy. It felt as if that night had been a dream.
"Ra-Ravin, lately... haven't you gotten taller?"
Serepina set her teacup down.
"Taller?"
"Ah, um. Maybe... it's just my imagination."
She smiled and touched the coffee to her lips. Her cheeks were faintly pink.
"Th-this sounds strange, but every time I see you we've always been the same age, so... s-so you felt like someone my age, but... now, somehow, um. You seem more like an adult."
"It's your imagination. Nothing's changed."
I smiled back.
"I-I mean it, really!"
Serepina stuck out her lower lip in a pout. Laughing, I snatched a cream bun from her plate and shoved the whole thing into my mouth. I crammed it in until my cheeks bulged, chewing noisily, then washed it down with lukewarm coffee and spent a moment catching my breath.
"Not so grown-up now, am I?"
She burst out laughing—a bright, puffing sound.
Afterward, we walked through the park. Hand in hand. Her hand was soft and warm.
The heretic village. Levina. Rineta, whose head I'd crushed myself.
The sensation of stepping on someone's throat to kill them. The feel of swinging a rock into a skull.
The sticky, vile texture. The sound of bone splintering. Hot blood spraying.
All those sensations felt a little thinner with Serepina's hand in mine. The warmth traveling from her fingertips covered over the cold memory of stone. Her laughter erased the grating, animal shrieks of the villagers, the crunch of breaking bone.
It didn't vanish completely. Just faded, like a thin film stretched over everything.
Even so, this moment was bearable.
Because she was beside me.
Serepina herself, though—she didn't look nearly as composed.
The small room the servants I'd rescued were using. In front of that door, Count Belluz stood waiting.
Arms crossed, gaze cold, looking down at us.
The color drained from Serepina's face. Distress, guilt, a faint flicker of defiance—all of it chased across her features in quick succession.
She tightened her grip on my hand. As if letting go wasn't an option.