Another Small Guilt
After wrapping up all our conversations, I loaded the rest of our luggage onto the carriage. With Leysila settled in first, I turned to Selina, who was waiting quietly behind, her pile of gear for the journey ahead stacked even higher than what my sister and I had combined.
“……”
“……?”
For a moment, I just stared in silence, and Selina shifted awkwardly first, fidgeting like someone with a guilty conscience. She took a hesitant step forward and showed me the contents of her backpack.
“…What’s that?”
“No, just… if you’re suspicious, feel free to check everything before we go.”
“…Hah, forget it. Just get on already.”
With that, I grabbed the two heaviest-looking bags from her stack, tossed them into the luggage compartment, and climbed aboard first. Selina looked utterly surprised, like she hadn’t expected any help from me. She blinked wide-eyed until I urged her again to hurry up. Only then did she scramble to shove the rest of her stuff into the compartment and hop on.
Clunk.
The scenery of Talian slowly sliding past the window was still a wretched sight. Well… that was to be expected. The scars of the Swelling Fallbirth that had gnawed at the land for over a century couldn’t vanish overnight. Dried, twisted dead trees and blackened soil everywhere still bore remnants like festering wounds.
Even so, with the curse’s source eradicated, the thick, sticky demonic energy that had smothered everything had been washed clean.
…That should be enough.
For me, and for them.
About ten minutes into our dazed gaze at the passing landscape as we left Talian behind—
“Hero, thank you…”
“Thank you so much!”
Beastkin had gathered in droves along both sides of the road leading to the border. Those freed from their swollen beast forms, restored to full humanity, and the ordinary beastkin clutching their families in sobs.
They prostrated themselves toward our passing carriage or clasped their hands in endless gratitude. Blind, heartfelt praise directed at the fake Hero exiled to the continent’s edge.
But now, it was nothing more than a pretty vista—neither more nor less, utterly meaningless.
“……”
I rested my chin on my hand, gazing at it all with indifferent eyes.
Unlike the repulsive flattery from Kardan and the beastkin leaders, the tears of those ordinary folk bowing in the streets were surely pure and genuine. Yet no matter how consciously I focused on them, no sense of accomplishment or pride welled up in my chest. It was just… exhaustingly tedious.
Turning my gaze, I saw Selina across from me, drinking in the sight of her kin with affectionate eyes. Then—
“…Hic!”
Sensing my look, she hurriedly bowed her head and clenched her hands tight in her lap.
I let out a small sigh and pulled away from where I’d been leaning on the window frame.
“Too bright. Close the curtain.”
“Huh? Oh… yeah…”
Selina quickly drew the tattered curtain over the window. With that, the cheers and morning sunlight flooding in were neatly blocked, leaving only the rumble of the wheels to fill the cramped space.
At that moment, across the continent—amid the ongoing war between Harennes Holy Kingdom and parts of the allied kingdoms on one side, and the Failer Empire with its numerous neutral kingdoms on the other, waged under the banner of purging demon-colluding evils and atoning to the Creation God—another shocking rumor was slowly spreading.
“……What do you make of this, Heria Isis Failer, my daughter?”
Emperor Harndea Isis Failer, spotting a long-missed name after ages, set down his newspaper and turned to the crown princess seated right beside him—the empire’s third imperial princess, who at just 18 had outshone her siblings to claim the heir’s seat and was now leading victory after victory as supreme commander in the war against Harennes.
The crown princess, who had likewise been eyeing that cherished name through the paper, tossed it onto the table with a thud. Meeting her father’s gaze with somewhat impassive eyes, she replied.
“I see it as a good opportunity.”
“A good opportunity, you say?”
“The empire is currently at war under the banner of slaying unforgivable villains who collude with demons, but to some—about a fifth of the continent’s forces—it looks like we’re defending the fake Hero Kail, who mocked the Creation God. We still lack their support.”
Indeed. No matter how vehemently the emperor and crown princess denied it, the surface facts were ripe for misunderstanding.
On the day the fake Hero Kail was utterly betrayed by the Holy Kingdom and his party, plummeting into ruin—
The Failer Empire, still the continent’s mightiest power, had extended no aid to either the Holy Kingdom or the Hero, maintaining utter silence.
Now, launching a war on the pretext of the kingdom’s corruption? On the surface, it smacked of the empire shielding a Creation God-mocking fake Hero and starting a contrived late-game conflict.
“Well… more precisely, those forces are holding back, hedging between empire and kingdom without committing.”
Heria laid out the current state with her usual dry, precise tone.
The emperor, pondering his daughter’s demeanor, posed another question.
“But why do you judge this rumor a good opportunity for us?”
“……”
At the emperor’s faintly expectant tone, Heria shifted her gaze to the newspaper strewn haphazardly on the table. In one corner of the article, a crude black-and-white ink sketch of Kail from his Hero days was printed.
She stared at it a moment before answering with an impassive expression.
“Half the continent’s forces already back the empire, supplying troops and resources for the war. We don’t need to cater to the fence-sitters.”
“……”
“So, now that the Hero’s on the move again, the empire should respond with something bold. For instance—I, the crown princess, could officially declare I’ll take the fake Hero as the empress’s consort.”
A political masterstroke so extreme, “bold” didn’t cover it.
“That would force the remaining fifth to commit fully, no more hedging. Any unknown threats—gain or poison—would vanish, and on the battlefield, we’d clearly distinguish foe from ally.”
Cold, precise analysis without a flicker of doubt.
The emperor felt genuine satisfaction at his daughter’s willingness to pawn even her marriage for the empire’s gain.
Yet as a father, he couldn’t shake the guilt and unease gnawing at his heart.
“But… could you really marry a man you don’t love, binding your life solely for the empire’s sake?”
His voice carried warm concern. Heria’s impassive eyes widened ever so slightly—she’d never expected such a personal question from him.
But she quickly steadied her gaze, regaining her composure.
Leaning forward slightly, she picked up the newspaper from the table and gently, oh so gently, caressed the printed face of Kail in the article’s corner.
“Love… I’m not sure yet.”
Stroke.
Her calm voice flowed out as she quietly traced the ink-rendered face for a long moment.
“But you know, don’t you? That he and I are more alike than one might think.”
“……”
“I realized it the first time we met and spoke. Despite losing my mother to demons, I chose to swallow everything to become the empire’s heir. But he… didn’t.”
Feeling the ink’s texture under her fingertips, Heria’s eyes sank deeper.
“Not content with that, knowing the world would one day expose his falsehood, he willingly became a fake hero because there were no true ones left—and in the end, he brought salvation to the continent. That’s why… I like this man.”
Not mere political tool, but genuine human admiration and longing.
“Of course, on the day the Hero fell, neither Failer… nor I extended a hand. So I don’t know how long it’ll take to earn his forgiveness and stand at his side.”
Heria gave a faint, bitter smile as she released the paper. Behind the crown princess’s mask of perfection lay an eighteen-year-old girl’s small, heavy guilt.
Harndea silently gazed down at his daughter’s crown.
Pride, regret, and the myriad emotions of a monarch intertwined.
Perhaps that’s why—he rose slowly without thinking and approached her side. Hesitantly, after so long, he extended his large hand and stroked her hair.
“Your Majesty…?”
“In the emperor’s name… no, as your father, I’ll do my utmost to help you earn that man’s forgiveness to the end. It may be… the only way to atone to your mother, Mariena, whom I lost to the demons through my own failing.”
The empress lost to demons, Heria’s mother, Mariena.
Deep regret laced Harndea’s voice as he uttered her name.
“……”
His rough paternal touch and warmth, unseen since childhood.
Heria flinched slightly in surprise but slowly relaxed her stiff shoulders and nodded.
“Thank you, Your Majesty…”
She bit her lower lip lightly and added,
“No… Father.”
