The Me at the Beginning
I was that kind of child.
Small in stature, far frailer than any of the other kids my age, with a face so delicate it might as well have belonged to a girl. In truth, I might even have looked prettier than most of them. By the time boys reached six, they were usually beginning to grow, their bodies filling out, taking on the rough shape of little men. Yet I always lagged behind, trailing at the back of the group, watching everything from behind.
“At that pace, when exactly do you plan to devote yourself to the motherland, Hite!”
My father was that kind of man. He took more pride in being a soldier than in anything else—more than in my mother, more than in me. He believed that everyone devoting themselves to the nation was the starting point of an ideal world.
I grew up beneath him, receiving instruction alongside my siblings. I had two older brothers and one younger sister. But I was too small and too slow to truly be called family, too weak and too slight to be called an older brother. I was the child who always stood apart, singing alone.
Even Mother paid me no mind. She had a strange obsession with her daughter and lavished all her mad affection on my little sister. My brothers followed her lead, doting only on our sister. Because I was so much younger than them, I was completely invisible.
Yet there was one person who showed me interest.
“Run, Wilhelmman! If you don’t work for the motherland, you’re nothing!!”
“Y-yes…!!”
It was Father. He insisted that every male in the house must become a soldier, and so he trained us with brutal harshness day after day. He didn’t care if someone collapsed from exhaustion. He simply raised us with the expectation that we would become the finest elite troops. In the first place, the only one who ever collapsed was me, so there was no need to worry about anyone else. Both my brothers had been born with outstanding physical ability, completely unlike me.
Then one day, while we were training like madmen—
“It’s a mission, my sons.”
The same father who had drilled military spirit into us was, as the current head of House Wilhelmman, involved in all sorts of affairs. The filthiest among them was state-sanctioned assassination for the nobility. He was a man who could accept dirty money and kill even the innocent.
House Wilhelmman was no minor family. It ranked among the marquessates. Yet behind the steadfast image of the man who preached military spirit, Father hid a darkness that the me of that time could not possibly understand.
And so it was that we, who had been trained as soldiers, received our first lesson in what Father called “the family’s work.”
“Kill the people whose names are written on these papers within one week.”
With nothing more than that single command, Father left us to our own devices. Until the mission was complete, he treated us like complete strangers, offering neither conversation nor instruction. My brothers, who had genuinely admired the splendid spirit of soldiers, were thrown into confusion by the ethical horror of it. They demanded to know what kind of training this was. As for me, the moment I received the paper, my head went blank.
What kind of punishment will I get if I fail? It’ll be severe. What should I do? How on earth am I supposed to kill someone?
I agonized over it alone.
But then—
“…Why is Mr. Licht’s name here…”
On the paper I pulled from the envelope was the name of the butler, Mr. Licht—the man who had always treated me with the greatest kindness. The instant I saw it, I panicked and tried to run to Father to ask him about it. That was when a memory surfaced.
“…Licht, why do you look after Hite?”
“No matter what, he’s still just a child…”
I don’t know when it had happened, but I remembered that short exchange between Father and the butler. That was when it began. That was the moment I realized this shabby, filthy, stinking, disgusting thing was the place where people lived. That day became the catalyst.
And from then on, I was consumed by the thought of what kind of punishment would await me if I failed such a grave mission. The day before the week was up, driven by nothing more than the desire not to be scolded, I stabbed Mr. Licht with genuine murderous intent.
People could so easily steal another person’s fate over a single personal emotion. And human greed—
“Ifrit Wilhelmman, Kamut Wilhelmman… what exactly have you two been doing for the past week?”
—was so utterly, bottomlessly ugly that it defied comprehension.
“While Hite Wilhelmman carried out his mission, what exactly were you two—supposedly far more outstanding—doing?!”
I had a talent for that sort of thing. Rather than competing with strength face-to-face, I excelled at devising plans, setting traps, binding the ankles of those who fell into them so they couldn’t escape, completely cutting off their retreat, and then—when every moment was perfect—simply giving a little push. I was terrifyingly gifted at hunting my prey in a single instant.
After I demonstrated that talent, I became—
“Hite, tonight’s dinner is your favorite…”
“Oppa! Let’s play together~!”
“Little brother, do you need anything?”
“Here’s the thing you said you lost before, Hite.”
—the king of the family.
It felt… empty somehow. Was this how you were treated if you killed people? It shouldn’t be. At least in the hero tales and fairy stories I had read, things were never like this. At the very least, people who killed those who had done nothing wrong were given fitting punishment.
I simply could not understand such a society.
Even after I turned ten. Even after I had killed dozens of people. I still didn’t understand why I had killed them, why I had to kill them, why Father was so serious about this assassination business. I truly understood nothing at all.
Why had I become a good person by killing innocent people? Why had I been reborn as a kind person after murdering those who had committed no sin?
Tap—
“You look like you have a lot on your mind, Hite.”
“Idea.”
That blood-soaked life continued until I turned fourteen. That was when I made a friend at school. Many boys claimed to be my friend in name only, but Idea was different.
“What is it this time?”
“…The world looks red.”
Unlike the other boys who, from a very young age, had hidden behind fake laughter and played political games for the sake of their families and positions, Idea genuinely affirmed me as Hite. He understood my personal feelings. So for the first time, I was able to open my heart to someone—Idea.
“Why is it red?”
“…It’s just… the sky is too red.”
He couldn’t know what I was going through, but he never tried to pry. Instead, he drew closer.
“Instead of that, a new tavern opened next to the school. Want to check it out?”
“What? That’s for adults…”
He wanted to do only the fun things that real students would do.
“Come on~ In four years we’ll be adults too~!”
“Four years looks like dogshit to you, huh.”
Being with Idea let me do only enjoyable things, and I loved that. Skipping class for the first time and playing outside. Sneaking into a tavern without the adults knowing, pretending to be grown-ups to buy alcohol. It was so bitter I threw up. I got drunk and threw up again. In the end, our young bodies couldn’t handle the liquor. We staggered along the street completely wasted, fell over, and tumbled into the gutter beside the road. We laughed senselessly. We babbled like idiots. All of it was wonderful.
The memories I made with Idea were precious. They were good memories.
But.
But when I turned seventeen, the colors of those precious memories became completely stained and faded.
“Idea… why… you…”
It was two o’clock in the morning. The window of my bedroom was open. I woke at the presence of another person. Standing before me, hunched and small, wearing a tiny mask, was a stranger holding a dagger.
“…Sorry, friend.”
That dagger slashed mercilessly toward my throat.
Clack—
But I was no longer the small, frail, helpless child I had been at six. Having grown over the years, I was now larger than my brothers. I barely managed to catch the wrist and stop the blade.
“Ugh…! Idea—!!”
“I’m sorry, Hite…! I have no choice…!!”
Yet somehow, Idea’s skill was superb. In the end, he drove the dagger into my shoulder.
“Agh…!!”
The strength left my arm. The moment I released his hand, Idea pulled the dagger free and aimed for my throat again. But—
Thud—
“Ugh, Hite, you…!”
I kicked him away with my leg, then yanked the dagger out of my own shoulder first.
“Aaaah…!”
It hurt. The jagged edge of the blade made the pain unbearable. The fact that Idea had tried to kill me as painfully as possible with that serrated dagger hurt more than anything.
“You… You were the only person I ever trusted…”
Clutching my heavily bleeding shoulder, I slowly approached Idea, who had lowered his stance warily.
“Who was it? Who hired you…?”
Idea avoided my gaze.
“…I’m sorry, Hite…”
“Why are you doing the same thing I did…?”
I truly could not understand anything that had happened to me up to that point. Not a single thing. Not even why I was still alive. Not even why he was doing this.
“Please, Hite…”
“Tell meeeeeee, Ideaaaaa—!!!”
I couldn’t hold back any longer. Even at that late hour, I roared.
Yet none of the family members inside the house came to my room.
“…Marcus.”
The only one who responded to my roar was Idea, his voice trembling madly behind the mask as he hid an expression full of guilt.
“…Marcus Wilhelmman.”
“……”
The name that crawled from his mouth was none other than my father’s.
“I tried to refuse. I really tried to refuse… but I had no choice—”
I didn’t wait to hear the rest. I kicked Idea in the face.
Wham—
I have no idea how hard I hit him. Idea’s body flew through the air, slammed into the wall, and collapsed to the floor. I didn’t care. I turned and left the room.
Marcus Wilhelmman.
“……”
With blood dripping from my body and memories dyed bright red, I gripped Idea’s dagger and headed for my father’s room. I no longer cared about anything.
Creak—
When I reached Marcus Wilhelmman’s room, Father was calmly smoking a cigarette and staring out the window. He must have known I would come.
“I knew you would succeed.”
As if he had known I would deal with Idea. As if he had believed I would kill him.
“You’ve always done so well since you were little, my son.”
He didn’t even consider that the blood on the dagger might be mine. With a proud expression, he walked toward me.
“Now I can finally tell you.”
Father spoke.
“Thanks to you, our house has risen to the rank of duke today.”
All the names I had received orders to kill. The identity of Abraxas that had always been mentioned in those orders.
“Those bastards had less land than us but held higher titles. It was irritating. Those cunning Abraxas bastards…”
“……”
And at the end of all those countless names I had killed was the name Idea Abraxas.
“You…”
For a moment, it felt as though my entire field of vision had turned blood-red.
“Just how many people have you used… Marcus.”
“…What are you talking about, Hite Wilhelmman.”
What I had just realized was that the entire Abraxas family had been manipulated by Marcus Wilhelmman. Directly or indirectly, using the orders and political maneuvers he had given me, Marcus had sunk House Abraxas. Thanks to my exceptional skill, he had done it without leaving a trace and had risen to the rank of duke.
Why a treacherous outsider like him had taken a marquessate. Why a fool like Marcus had risen to such a noble position. Why people who were supposed to be noble had to live like this.
I finally understood.
Why people always lived in such a shabby, filthy, stinking way. Why this was the only place where people lived. Why I had become a wonderful person by killing the innocent. Why I had survived even after being stabbed by Idea.
“Stop it, Hite—!!”
The moment I finished speaking and tried to lunge at Marcus, a painfully familiar voice came from behind me.
“Marcus took Cherry…!! If I don’t contact him by tomorrow morning, she’ll be killed…!!”
Idea.
Why didn’t you pass out? I kicked you with the intent to kill.
“She’s my last remaining family!! Please, please don’t do this, Hite…!!”
Why are you still holding onto my ankle like this?
Stab—!
I didn’t want to kill you.
“Good work, Idea.”
Creak—
I really didn’t want to kill you.
“Idea Wilhelmman, my new son.”
Thud—!
Even so, Marcus could not kill me. He stabbed my abdomen while my attention was on Idea and closed the door, but the moment that door shut, I was no longer Hite Wilhelmman.
Having had everything left to me stolen away, from that moment on I was no longer a person. I was no longer myself.
Crack. Crunch—
In the sealed room, after a fierce struggle—no, after a horrific slaughter—my entire body was drenched in bright red blood. My two hands had become so grotesquely twisted that it was hard to tell they had once been human hands as they tore the lump of meat that had been Marcus to shreds.
“Huuu… huuuuu…”
As I continued ripping apart the brutally murdered corpse with both hands, I finally realized how much blood was pouring from my abdomen. The bleeding from my shoulder had been bad, but the wound in my stomach was far worse. My vision clouded over in an instant. My body no longer had the strength to distinguish colors. The only thing I could feel was a burning pain in my chest that grew worse no matter how many times I killed. I collapsed on top of the bright red lump of meat that had been Marcus.
Splat—
The pure white uniform of House Wilhelmman, which had been spotless, was now completely dyed vivid red after being rubbed against the torn corpse. The white pajamas I wore had been painted with someone’s mysterious blood and had become a single work of art.
In the end, having lost everything, I lost consciousness there and died.
“……”
But of course, that bastard Idea saved me.
He somehow stopped the severe bleeding and kept me alive. He called the sleeping butler and lied, claiming that I had thrown myself forward to protect him from Marcus, who had tried to kidnap and kill him. Then he immediately sent me to the infirmary. Yet even Idea must not have believed such a flimsy lie would work. The moment my treatment was finished, he left the family. And after a truly long time—long after I had woken up—he disappeared without leaving a single trace.
Four years later. In the year I turned eighteen and was truly alone, the news finally reached me.
“…You idiot…”
According to what I heard in passing, he had become the soldier he was meant to be. He had single-handedly blocked the invading enemy army and died a heroic death. By the time reinforcements arrived and recaptured the stronghold, he was on the verge of death. His last words were:
I’m sorry, Hite.
“…You stupid bastard…”
That was what they said.
“……”
When I heard the news, I was drinking alone in the tavern Idea had first taken me to when I was fourteen. After the incident with Marcus, I had abandoned the family, erased my name, and wandered the world. At some point during my travels, I heard a story about a war hero. The tale suddenly included an apology to me, so I listened more carefully. The hero’s identity was none other than Idea Abraxas.
That day, I drank so much I don’t even know how much I consumed. I drank until I no longer knew who I was, until the wallet that had barely been filled was completely empty.
“…Ugh— haa…”
With a head as completely empty as that wallet, I wandered the path beside the gutter, following the flow of consciousness. Then—
Splash—
I misstepped and fell into the gutter alone.
“……”
No one came to pull me out. There was no longer anyone left to laugh at my sorry state. Yet for some reason, I sat there for a long time before staggering to my feet and slowly climbing back onto the road. Soaking wet and freezing, I began walking again. Alone. I kept walking. And walking. Before I knew it, I was standing in front of the school where we had met.
“…Ah.”
My head hurt too much. The world spun. My throat felt nauseous. Everything churned, and only old memories came to mind. I collapsed right there, in the exact same spot in front of the school wall.
“…That… fucking… son of a… ugh, urk—”
I collapsed just like that. Just like that, I fell asleep. My consciousness felt as though it had flown beyond the world itself.
“……Hey…”
But it didn’t seem like much time had passed.
“…Excuse me—”
My breath had completely stopped, or so it felt. At someone’s call, my consciousness that had flown away hurriedly returned to this world. The moment I realized my heart was pounding furiously, I gasped for air as if I had truly stopped breathing. My eyes flew open.
“Excuse me, mister—”
Only then did I notice the woman with long, ice-colored hair calling out to me right in front of my eyes.
“Uh… uh…?”
When I tried to rise, rubbing my hands that had gone cold as ice, she grabbed my shoulder and took my hand, speaking gently.
“Are you all right? You’ve been calling for someone for a while now…”
“…I’m fine. You can go…”
When I pushed her hand away and shook my head, she draped the thick coat she was wearing over my dazed body.
“What if you die like this?”
“……”
“Then I guess that’s my fate…”
“Don’t say that. Stand up.”
She said there was someone who took good care of people like me. She wanted to introduce me to people who would stay by my side. She spoke while saying she would take me there.
But unfortunately, I had no desire to go to such a place. There was no meaning in going. Even if I stopped by, I would have nowhere to return to once my business was finished. In the end, I was destined to wander for the rest of my life. In the end, everyone would die miserably anyway. I couldn’t understand why I had to live again. Understanding it became difficult again. I was incredibly stupid. I dismissed this world full of things I found hard to understand as completely meaningless.
That was how I was. But—
“My name is Yustitia. What’s yours?”
The woman who had been walking alone down the cold, dark road began to ask my name.
“Hi…”
Leaning on her for support, I walked in a daze and tried to answer roughly. But when I thought about it, I no longer wanted to utter that name.
“Haa… I never had anything like that from the moment I was born…”
“R-really…??”
I squeezed my eyes shut, swallowed the headache, and mumbled vaguely. I hoped this would be enough to make the woman leave quickly. But—
Creak—
“Karman—! We have a newcomer~”
“Oh my, you’re here, Princess~”
In the end, I couldn’t escape. I arrived at the tavern she had led me to and, still supported by her, sat down in a corner seat by the window. It seemed to be the bar they ran. When I looked around at the empty interior and stared at the blue-haired woman—Yustitia—she held out a large cup to me.
“Here, drink this. It’ll warm you up.”
“I don’t ne—”
When I turned my head to refuse, a tremendous impact struck the back of my head.
“Guh—!”
“This bastard! How dare you refuse when the princess is treating you!”
Startled by the incredibly powerful blow to the back of my head, I turned around. There stood a woman with black hair and asymmetrical bangs, a cigarette between her lips, glaring at me.
“Drink.”
“…Yes.”
In the end, unable to overcome her intensity, I accepted the warm cup. She moved with a refreshingly bold gesture, sat down across from me, and spoke.
“What’s wrong? What happened?”
“…Just the usual things people go through in life.”
I squeezed my eyes shut again, swallowed the bursting headache, and answered roughly. The black-haired woman with asymmetrical bangs sitting across from me spoke in an utterly indifferent tone.
“I almost got assassinated by a friend.”
“What…?”
“Exactly what I said. While I was at school, my friend stabbed me in the back. Turns out she was an enemy spy.”
She told the story with a casual gesture, wearing an expression that suggested it was no big deal.
“…I see.”
I thought it really was nothing to her. It seemed like a completely different story from mine, so I tried to stop paying attention. But—
“At the time I really thought I was going crazy. In the whole world, the only person I could rely on was that bitch~”
For some reason, this woman’s story began to sound more and more like my own.
“But then that same bitch suddenly tried to kill me. I was so dumbfounded… I just killed her and ran away.”
Yet the ending seemed completely different from mine.
“…I spared her.”
“Huh?”
The words spilled out of me, thick with emotion, before I could stop them.
“I spared her, but that son of a bitch… like an idiot, went and died trying to save someone else…”
At some point I realized tears were flowing from my eyes.
“Why… what was so great about this fucking country that you went there and died… If you were going to do that, you should have just had one more drink with me…”
At some point, the woman who had been talking to me had moved to my side and offered me her shoulder. I pressed my forehead against her shoulder, letting out a hoarse voice that seemed endless. She patted my back little by little. When I had calmed down a bit, she casually swept her hair back and told me her name.
“Feeling better? I’m Karman. Just call me Karman.”
“……”
I had no name to give her, so I stayed silent and simply looked at her.
“Don’t you have a name?”
The woman who had introduced herself as Karman asked again, looking slightly awkward. While Karman was struggling with what to do—
“Um… How about Belberman?”
The blue-haired Yustitia, who had been wiping cups behind the bar, spoke up.
“Belberman?”
Karman looked at her with a slightly puzzled expression and asked what kind of name that was.
“Yes. He was the protagonist of a famous heroic tale—the hero who overcame all sorrow and adversity and led the divided three kingdoms to peace~! Ehehe.”
She smiled bashfully as she explained the name.
“Ooh, that’s nice. It suits him perfectly!”
“…”
I could only stare blankly at Yustitia for a moment.
“How about it? Does it sound good to you, mister?”
“…Bel…berman.”
Why was it? It had only been for a very brief moment. That bashful smile looked exactly like the one Idea used to make whenever he made a mistake.
“Ah, it broke… But it should be fine, right? Uhehe~”
Even if that hadn’t been the case—
“…It seems like a good name.”
Why? Among all the women I had met so far, she looked a little prettier. That smile looked quite beautiful.
“Great~! Then since we’ve made a new friend, let’s have a drink!”
“Aah, Karman! You drank all day yesterday too!”
“…I’ll have one too.”
It was so natural. My meeting with them… was as easy and natural as water flowing from the very first button. And because of that, it became an even stronger, more solid bond.
“Hey Jeren, where the hell did you put the toothbrush—!”
“Where you left it.”
“Miss Jeren, do you know where my clothes…”
“Over there.”
“Hey, Jeren… Want to have a drink?”
“Go get ready for the hunt, Belberman.”
Later, when the incredibly blunt woman named Jeren joined us, for the first time—truly the first time—I was able to feel real happiness after escaping the tainted happiness that had been Idea.
So.
So I wanted to protect these girls. With my own hands. I wanted to protect them myself.
This happiness. This happiness that had been so difficult to obtain. Even though it felt like something I had simply stumbled upon while passing by, this happiness that had been so joyful—I didn’t want anyone to take it from me.
“……”
“Karia, are you all right?”
Lost in the swamp of those memories, I suddenly stopped on the stairs leading down to the underground of the Demon King’s Castle. The Demon King looked at me with a puzzled expression and asked.
“…Yeah. It’s nothing.”
I shook my head as if nothing was wrong and started walking again, descending underground.
Step. Step—
“…Tia Belberman.”
“Hm?”
When I suddenly called her name, she stopped in front of me even though she had been walking ahead. I stared intently at her face and then spoke in a flat voice.
“I will definitely kill you.”
She stared back into my eyes for a moment, then gave a faint, indifferent smile and answered.
“…By all means, do so.”
Of course, she had no idea what I was thinking. But every single word I had spoken until now had been completely sincere.
“I will kill you.”
“Yes, I’ll cheer you on.”
Yustitia, Karman, Jeren, and all the others. I meant every word.