Those Who Are Loved
When you first lay eyes on an elf, their appearance leaves you utterly spellbound. Their beauty seems personally molded by the gods themselves—so flawless that comparing it to anything but another elf feels like an insult. Spend time among them, and you cannot help but marvel at their gifts. The same effort that yields modest results for others brings them two or three times the reward. And the moment you truly understand them, jealousy becomes inevitable.
Their lifespans stretch many times longer than those of other races. You might train your entire life and never surpass them, yet they know that limit is not the end of their days. While you feel you have reached your boundary, they simply look farther ahead. That is what it means to be among the beloved.
I am Erika, an elf turning sixty this year. Among humans that would be the age for grandmotherly titles, but among my own kind I am still a child with milk on her lips.
At the Goddess’s command, I—the elder’s daughter and a prodigy with the bow even among elves—set out on a journey alongside humans. I had thought that if I was called a genius among my own people, humans could hardly amount to much. Oh, how wrong I was.
The woman they called the Hero made an overwhelming first impression. Clad in thick armor, her gauntleted hand resting on the hilt of her sword, the sheer pressure she radiated made the human knights beside her look pale and insignificant.
And the Saintess simply left my mouth hanging open. Our race may claim supremacy in beauty, yet her own loveliness was staggering. The holy radiance that seemed to pour from behind her—good heavens. It was not the “chosen race” but the “chosen one,” exactly as the saying went; she was sacred beyond words.
…Staring so openly felt embarrassing, so I quickly turned my head away.
The man who barged in, however, was simply ridiculous. He possessed neither a Goddess's Blessing nor any talent. Yet he recklessly declared he would join our adventure without the faintest idea where we were headed. …Still, his sheer nerve was rather likable. And he volunteered to handle all the chores? When I thought about it, the idea wasn’t bad at all. Laundry, for instance… or cooking. After all, I had no idea how to do either.
“The scars on a man’s back are a disgrace?” What an interesting saying—I had never heard it before. So I teased that if he ever ran away I would plant an arrow in him. The journey was already something to look forward to, wasn’t it?
Look forward to it? What a joke. Was that all there was to shooting an arrow? Weren’t monsters supposed to collapse with a single shot to the head? Father, teacher—did you lie to me? Why do they scream and charge even after being hit? Why do they thrash with those bloodshot eyes until the very last breath?
There is blood on my hands. It is so filthy I could die. This is hard. It is terrifying. Wasn’t I only supposed to shoot the bow? Did I really have to witness such horrors? Father, brothers and sisters who guarded the border—have you lived your lives seeing things like this?
Now I understand why Father opposed my leaving. …I should never have come. I should have remained the elder’s daughter, living in blissful ignorance.
But… I cannot show weakness. Here, I am the oldest, the only one who has even dipped her toes into real battle. I am afraid too, yet I still have duties. Embracing this small, weeping Saintess and telling her everything will be all right. Even though I know my own hands are trembling. I hug her tighter to hide it.
…That man is more impressive than I expected. Woo—Woojin, was it? I don’t clearly remember what happened yesterday, but the tent, the bedding, the fire, and above all this mouth-watering aroma—it must all be his doing.
The night watch? Ah, so Woojin stood guard. …He really is remarkable. My first impression that he might be somewhat useful was apparently far too low. He is genuinely useful!
…Wait. I do not need to eat. Oh, I never told him that, did I?
“I am an elf, so I do not need to eat very often. Humans must eat every time, yes? I am fine. One bite of an apple is enough for me.”
“Oh, is that so? Still, try a bite of this. I’m sure you’ll find it delicious.”
Yes, it certainly looks that way. That stimulating smell is making my mouth water.
‘Human food is quite difficult to handle, you know? It is stimulating, intense, and they frequently consume things that are bad for the body. Many of them have truly horrible body odors because of it. Be careful, Erika. The journey will be rather difficult.’
…That is what my teacher said. But, teacher, just once… just one time would be all right… wouldn’t it?
…The memory of that food still lingers. Was it called stew? That dish? …When he mentioned meat I felt strong revulsion, yet now when I see a deer I think “that looks delicious” rather than “how cute”—no! No! Such a horrible thought! It is cute, definitely cute! I will not eat it! Friend of nature! Still… it would probably taste really— …Let me stop. Some training should clear my mind. Ah… I want to eat that stew so badly…
Ping—
“Eek!”
“…! Are you all right?”
A mistake. During archery practice I must not let my mind wander!
“You were not hit. That is fortunate.”
“Y-yes. Were you practicing?”
“Yes. By the way, please be more careful. If you get hurt, who will cook those delicious meals for me…”
“…You seem very interested in cooking?”
“That’s right. Tender meat… hehe… ugh! No, no! I’m not interested! Wait, it is delicious! No, what am I saying!”
It is all the meat’s fault! Cooking really is dangerous! My mouth has turned into complete nonsense! At this rate I have no dignity left as an elder!
“Hmm… Then how about this? I will teach you how to cook. In return, Archer, you can train me.”
“Train… you? You do not need to fight, do you? Isn’t it enough if you simply make delicious food?”
Ah, my true feelings slipped out again. No, those are not even my true feelings. Whatever. I want meat.
“Pfft… Ah, no. What I mean is, during battle you seem to pay far too much attention to me. If I become someone who can protect myself, it would lighten the Hero’s burden, allow you to focus on what lies farther ahead, and give the Saintess more freedom of movement. What do you think?”
Not a bad idea. Is he trying to become more useful? Well, that is why he joined us in the first place. Paying him a little more attention would not hurt. It is not because of the meat… Learning to cook delicious food could never be a loss. Yes. This is because of the meat. No, it is not!
…Why does the Saintess look so gloomy? I made that stew with sincere effort. It may be a little dark, but that only means the ingredients’ flavors have fully bloomed, does it not?
“Come now, Saintess. Take a bite!”
“Um… ugh… Archer, I understand your good intentions, but this…”
“No way. Are you rejecting my cooking?”
That cannot be. The Saintess is so kind.
“…Hmph!”
In the blink of an eye the spoon flew into Woojin’s mouth—
“Urk!”
With a short groan he collapsed where he stood.
“W-Woojin?”
“Eeeek! I-I’m so sorryyy!”
Leaving the tear-streaked Saintess frantically casting healing spells behind, I stared at the stew I had created.
“The meat should have tasted good…”
Why, then, did I sense a thick… dark aura rising from it?
I closed my eyes and took one bite. Because meat is delicious.
…I only realized I had lost consciousness the following morning.
While traveling, I came to understand how much I had changed. Our race is quite arrogant—I see that clearly now. The belief that we are superior to others, the unconscious disdain, the conviction that there is nothing we cannot do and no need to mingle with lesser beings—those thoughts had taken root in my mind as though they were perfectly natural. It is strange how greatly they now offend me.
I learned all of this from watching my companions during our journey, and above all from this man who shattered my preconceptions.
When I regained my senses I found myself staring fixedly at his face. The way he blushed and looked away was so cute… And when I noticed the other companions watching him with eyes similar to my own—
…Tsk. Perhaps I should hurry and convey my feelings. The front lines are near, are they not? Soon we will only need to slay the Demon King and return.
That is not the problem. Being separated from him is the far greater issue.
Is there no way? No way to remain by his side…
Come to think of it, there were those women who were exiled. Driven out for having “impure blood”… yet they simply accepted it in silence. Those who thought as I do… Perhaps… perhaps…
“…Ugh.”
A faintly fishy taste rose on my lips.
“…Archer, you are bleeding.”
An utterly exhausted voice. The Saintess touches my lips. I simply accept her touch in silence.
“You… perhaps.”
“Yes, Archer.”
“That healing ability of yours. Maybe…”
“…”
“Never mind. It was a foolish question.”
“You must not. Even if it were possible, do you think I would use it that way?”
“…I know! That is why I said it!”
“If you understood the enormity of what we did to him—”
Clunk.
“Ugh—!”
Blood flows from her mouth as well. She must have bitten her tongue when the carriage jolted.
“Did you bite your tongue?”
“…I am fine. A wound like this. Compared to what he endured…”
“Just heal it. It is difficult to speak with a bitten tongue.”
“…He could not speak when he died.”
“Are you really saying that right now—!”
“Then! Then what am I supposed to do?!”
“…”
“What more, sob, what more must I do…”
“…Stop.”
“If only I could soften the hatred directed toward me…”
Stop, please. It is not only you. I, too, want to cut off these cursed ears. I know exactly what insults I hurled at him with them. I want to rip out my own tongue. I know what words this wriggling lump of flesh spat at him. My bow, my quiver, the self who secretly aimed at his back, the self who swung arrows at his bewildered face—I want to smash and burn them all. Stop it, please. If even you break down like this, I do not know what I will do. The hateful words that left my mouth, the horrible deeds my hands committed, and the face that smiled while doing them—nothing about any of it was right, truly—
“Let us calm down, all right…?”
“A-Archer…”
“…I have to stop, I have to… ugh… ughhh…”
Clunk.
“Mmm.”
In the end I learned how to sleep. Like during that night we camped, if I crouched before the fire I could at least drift off in its warmth. Of course, waking with soot on my face was another matter.
Since I needed to wash both body and face, I headed for the river. Only then did I realize how ruined the clothes I wore had become. It was not only the armor; the garments themselves were little more than rags. After being torn so mercilessly, expecting the fabric across my torso to remain intact would have been laughable.
“…Scars.”
Upon reaching the river and washing my face, the scars were revealed. The wound on my stomach had vanished, yet a diagonal slash now marked my face.
“Ah, this…”
I no longer suffered fits. I already knew everything was true. Everything they had done, the reality from which there was no escape, and every single day that rose in my mind whenever I reflected on myself—all of it was real.
‘Disgusting human scum, don’t look at me with those eyes!’
The way I flinched and shrank back seemed utterly ridiculous. It had not been sincere. It must all have been the Demon King’s petty scheme.
‘Why? Why are you doing this, Erika!’
‘With that filthy mouth you dare speak my name?!’
“Mmm…”
‘I told you to get lost. Can’t you hear me? Ah, those short ears of yours probably can’t even understand my words, you inferior creature?!’
“Hoo.”
‘Then I’ll show you with actions. Get lost right now!’
Splat. My face distorts. Drip by drip, blood trickles down. Upon that beautiful face of hers appears a smile—horrible and twisted. She laughed.
“Ugh.”
The terrible memories resurfaced one after another, forcing me to shudder. I simply closed my eyes, splashed clean water onto my face once more—then plunged my entire head into the river.
“Glub.”
Let the filthy thoughts flow away. Wash the filthy memories clean. If only I could return to those days.
“Gurgle.”
With a purified heart, if only I could live once more.
“Gah—ughaa!”
…Someday, I hope to find the courage to face them again. I wished for it with all my heart. The pain I feel—perhaps they feel it too. That is what I thought. Yet perhaps that very thought is devouring me from within. Such a suspicion also occurred to me.
Had it not been for the Goddess’s words, had the Demon King not orchestrated all of this, I might have resented them for the rest of my life. …Is it because I am a bad person that I would rather that were the case? How far must I fall before I can be happy?
Love and happiness. Goddess, was resurrecting me truly the right choice?
“Ah, aah… This, this is not how it was meant to be…”
The one who always smiled, who encouraged and cheered on her creations, who gave her love without reservation—those days were gone. Only a pair of eyes remained, watching Woojin through disheveled, lusterless golden hair.
Even gods are not invincible. The Goddess suffered greatly. She had witnessed Woojin’s agony. She no longer possessed the courage to peer into his heart.
Endless screams. The fighting dogs created by that demon. The horrible, wet sounds of hunger being sated, of something being torn apart. Those scenes replayed ceaselessly inside him like a broken tape. Only those images remained.
“This, this is not how it was meant to be… Just… just…”
She had wanted him to be happy. Sincerely. She had even used a power she had never once employed, all so he could know what it meant to be loved. Because he had died without ever knowing love, she wanted him to feel it.
Yet the moment he escaped death and they witnessed the truth, everything plummeted into an endless abyss.
To rule a world, to become a god of an entire world—
“Ugh, ughhh…”
—was something like this. She had not known the word “responsibility” could weigh so heavily.
“I must not… run away…”
It was too frightening.
“That, that damned—”
Curses she had never wished to hear or hold in her heart throughout her eternal life. The daggers creations hurled at those they “hated,” laden with dark emotion. They had been thrown ceaselessly at one man.
She should have simply erased him. Or at least given Woojin the chance for revenge. Even she felt her heart twisting horribly with hatred. How much worse must it have been for him?
Yet the Demon King’s final laugh could not have been more terrible. The negative emotions that had slipped from her grasp. The mockery flung by the one who, in a sense, was nothing but a conglomeration of those dregs. She could not endure it without erasing that laugh.
And the future that lay ahead terrified her beyond measure.
“…What should I do…”
It was so dark, so frightening. She was a newborn deity. A young god who had not ruled the world for long. She had not understood the laws of good and evil, light and shadow. She had simply wished for light to exist. The naïve goddess who believed that filling a room with light meant darkness could never appear. She was paying the price—by directly witnessing the endless suffering of the man she had summoned from another world.
“It hurts, it hurts… I’m sorry, I’m sorry, forgive me, please forgive me…”
Her apologies simply drifted in the air, reaching no one. She did not even have the courage to listen to the Saintess’s voice. Though countless priests offered prayers of gratitude, the screams of those four rang louder. The despair was greater than it had ever been.
She wished for help. Though she was an omniscient and omnipotent goddess, she wished for help. She prayed desperately. For someone to correct her mistakes.
…And so she began to read the books slowly with the eyes that beheld the world. There had to be a way. Someday, she would find it. So that once more she could fill the world with happiness and love.