* * *
I also stopped mid-sentence, turning instinctively to glance behind me.
An overwhelming aura—sharp and suffocating like a fierce beast—pressed against my senses just by being nearby.
My instincts told me exactly who was approaching.
It was Zerbin Batista.
He was striding toward the sacred sword, a group of onlookers trailing behind him.
“Is this finally the birth of a hero?”
“Good thing I turned down that request!”
The crowd looked on with anticipation, gazing at his back.
“Do you think it’ll be that easy?”
“Being strong isn’t enough to be a hero. To be chosen by the gods, you need the right character first.”
Others, on the contrary, seemed to hope for his failure.
Regardless of their stance, no one could take their eyes off Zerbin Batista.
Neither could I.
His footsteps rang out clearly, each one measured and unwavering.
Without reacting to the fuss around him, he reached the sacred sword with his usual cold expression.
Why had he ignored the sacred sword for so long, only to attempt to draw it now?
I didn’t know.
But if I were to make a wish, I hoped he would succeed in drawing it.
After all, if a hero were born, Naike might accept my party proposal.
But…
“It’s out! The sword’s been drawn!”
The sacred sword had been drawn.
Yet it didn’t shine with the holy light everyone expected.
“What… what is this?”
The blade, which was supposed to be radiant gold, had turned pitch black.
“How could this happen? Did the sacred sword break?”
“I knew it! He forced it out with brute strength even though he didn’t meet the conditions!”
The sword that had been drawn had lost its sanctity.
Zerbin Batista had become a half-hero.
“…Can we trust him?”
“Shouldn’t we put the sword back? Is he really a hero?”
He had taken on the most honorable title under the most dishonorable circumstances.
Later, I found out he’d drawn the sacred sword on the lord’s orders.
Zerbin, who had no desire to become a hero, was forcibly thrust onto a thorny path.
To make matters worse, he was blamed for extinguishing the sword’s light.
Before that, no one else had managed to draw the sword.
If they couldn’t draw it, they wouldn’t have been able to use it anyway.
And yet, they mocked him without understanding the pain and responsibility the role of a hero entailed.
Being a hero was no simple matter.
Bearing the weight of humanity’s survival on one’s shoulders, becoming the hope of countless people, and having no choice but to endure, no matter how difficult or agonizing it was…
The mere thought made me shiver.
And yet, he bore all of this simply because of something as trivial as…
“Florenti?”
Because of something as fleeting as love.
“Are you alright?”
Because of something like true love.
“You look pale! Are you feeling unwell?”
Ah.
I’d let my thoughts wander unnecessarily and ended up recalling useless memories.
Things that would never happen in this lifetime anyway.
“I knew it! People keep bothering you, and you can’t even eat properly because of them, Florenti!”
Everyone had kept their distance after Zerbin stopped them, though.
“I’m fine. I just nodded off for a moment.”
“Really? Oh, right, you must be tired! Should I prepare the best room for you to rest in?”
I shook my head.
Sleep wasn’t an option.
Placing my fork down, I set off to find Zerbin.
This was a small village; there weren’t many places he could go.
Besides, Zerbin had a presence that was hard to miss.
Unless he deliberately concealed it, finding him was simple.
Under the shade of a tree, Zerbin was seated, tending to his sword.
I was reminded of how he used to polish the sacred sword daily, even though its blackened blade never regained its light.
Shaking off the past, I approached him.
There was no time to dwell. If the hero had returned, I had to handle the tasks he would’ve accomplished.
Time was short.
“Zerbin!”
First, we had to go to the temple.
To help Zerbin discover true love.
A love neither of us fully understood yet.
That was the priority.
“Have you thought about it?”
I had thought about it, but I had nothing to say.
As expected, this is how it turned out.
If you argue without resolving anything and then come looking for him, of course, he’s going to ask if you even understand what you did wrong.
If I can figure out why Zerbin was upset and offer a proper apology, maybe this can all be resolved.
‘…What do I even say?’
But if resolving things were that easy, I wouldn’t be so stressed.
“Uh, well…”
“If you have nothing to say, leave.”
The way he looked at me said I should at least try saying something.
I opened my mouth without a plan and ended up getting scolded.
Still, looking on the bright side…
If “leave” means “say something, and I’ll let you stay,” then that’s practically an invitation compared to “don’t follow me” or “I don’t want to see you.”
Since he didn’t immediately kick me out, I decided to sit beside him and watch the mood.
Zerbin’s frown hadn’t deepened, which was promising.
The tree’s generous shade concealed us both.
The sweltering summer sun was tempered by the coolness of the breeze.
Through the countless gently swaying leaves, sunlight sparkled in fragments.
It was a peaceful moment, as if nothing had happened the night before.
If only this peace could last forever…
While I was enjoying the pleasant breeze, Zerbin picked up his sword.
That was my cue—if I didn’t speak now, he’d leave.
“Wait, just a second!”
“Talk.”
He paused as he stood, giving me an opening.
I knew Zerbin was granting me an opportunity, one he wouldn’t offer to others.
But that didn’t make it any easier.
Well… isn’t it like this?
I honestly don’t know why Zerbin’s angry.
If I can’t figure out what I did to upset him, I can’t apologize properly.
When Zerbin gets mad, instead of explaining, he just blows up at me and then disappears.
Can’t he explain things a little more?
Why does Zerbin hate talking things through so much?
I get that it’s up to me, the guilty one, to figure it out, but this whole process is so exhausting.
‘What do you even want to do with me?’
If it were just that, I could laugh it off and say, “Didn’t I tell you I wanted to get closer to you?”
‘Don’t confuse me.’
But this… this is just…
It gave me a headache.
The more I thought about it, the more it felt like an endless string of interconnected problems.
If I picked them apart one by one, things that once felt strange all seemed to point toward the same conclusion.
Despite being deeply upset with me, he came to treat my injuries when he heard I was hurt.
He held me so I wouldn’t have nightmares.
He said it was fine when I touched him, unlike when others did…
Even when it wasn’t necessary, he insisted on holding me close to check my condition.
‘…But that’s not possible, right?’
No, if I think about it rationally…
There’s no way.
* * *
