Farewell to the hero! chapter 77

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My words bounced off the walls, reverberating through the empty hallway.

The word “problem” echoed back at me, as if confirming its truth.

This was why my curiosity about such matters was futile.

Kaindel and I were strangers. It was natural for our lives to remain entirely separate.

There was no need to complicate things further.

Whether Kaindel truly lost his mind and went on a rampage or not, it had nothing to do with me.

“That’s true.”

Harilson muttered, oblivious to the tangled mess of my thoughts.

His pale face suggested he was calculating the grim future ahead.

He seemed entirely consumed by the topic I had casually brought up.

“Did Deacon Nathaniel seem very angry?”

Nathaniel was the deacon who had overseen our training during our first three months as novice priests.

In addition to instructing novices, Nathaniel was notorious for disciplining priests who broke the rules.

The ones who emerged from his chambers described it as their worst life experience.

Harilson, for one, still flinched at the mere mention of Nathaniel’s name.

Feigning contemplation, I parted my lips slightly.

“He didn’t seem in a good mood.”

“Ugh.”

Harilson groaned as I nodded, stamping his feet nervously.

His trembling hands dragged down his ashen face—a vivid portrait of fear.

It was a lie, of course.

Watching him fall apart, I struggled to suppress a laugh.

He’d brought me unpleasant news, and this was my petty revenge.

Like a child’s harmless tantrum.

“What should I do?”

“What else? Write an apology letter. He’ll forgive you then.”

“Haah, fine.”

Harilson, reluctantly agreeing, bobbed his head.

After a quick adjustment of his mask, which had become disheveled during his fretful pacing, he trudged off with slumped shoulders.

“Don’t wait for me, go ahead and eat.”

“Okay.”

Mumbling under his breath, he shuffled past me, each step heavy with gloom.

His hunched figure cast an ever-growing shadow, weighed down by his sighs.

Watching his retreating form, I wondered if my prank had gone too far.

After all, Harilson had no ill intent. He’d just been eager to share some gossip.

Maybe I’d tell him the truth after lunch.

Lost in thought, I made my way to the dining hall.

That’s when I heard it.

“…As I was saying.”

“Hmm?”

Children’s laughter faded as faint but distinct voices caught my ear.

I almost dismissed it—too preoccupied to care—but curiosity rooted me to the spot.

The sound was coming from a slightly ajar door nearby.

I glanced at the nameplate.

[Prayer Room 5].

The prayer rooms were supposed to be empty at this hour. Strange.

Who could be inside?

All visitors and priests adhered to strict schedules for accessing the prayer rooms.

It was unusual, to say the least, for anyone to be there now.

Maybe a new worshiper?

The suspicion ebbed, replaced by understanding.

If it was a newcomer, they might simply be unaware of the temple’s regulations.

I resolved to explain the rules and prevent future mistakes.

But just as I stepped closer, the voices became clearer.

“They act like nothing is beyond their reach. As if Hadelber Kingdom rests in their palm.”

Hadelber Kingdom?

My hand, poised to turn the doorknob, froze midair.

“Do you see it that way too, Viscount Chernian?”

“I believe all the nobles would agree.”

Two voices.

My gaze drifted upward, following the faint glow seeping through the door’s crack.

Inside, two men sat facing the deity’s statue, their backs to me. Judging by their attire, they were nobles.

Viscount Chernian…

The name stirred a memory.

At a banquet I’d attended with Kaindel, I’d met a Viscount Chernian.

His cunning smile, like a serpent coiled before striking, had left a lasting impression.

“Everyone knows he used to be a servant boy.”

“Not exactly a servant. He was still a noble’s son, after all.”

“He sold his laughter and his time to his patrons. How is that different from a servant?”

“I suppose you’re right.”

They spoke of a man who had once been a mere pawn.

Someone who had sold himself—his smiles, his moments—for money.

They were tearing down a figure who, despite everything, stood tall amidst the murky depths of high society.

“Now, after slaying the Great Calamity, he acts as if the world is his.”

“Indeed. As if our society lacks hierarchy.”

“Ha, by rank alone, his family is lower than any nouveau riche household. Whatever prestige they once held is ancient history. Their current status is solely built on the wealth the so-called hero earned by selling himself.”

“Let’s avoid mentioning names. Someone might overhear.”

“I’ve made sure no one’s around.”

“Still, one can never be too cautious.”

“Agreed. The temple is ideal for such conversations. No place more secure.”

The “hero” they referred to was unmistakably Kaindel.

The kingdom only recognized one hero.

There was no doubt whom they were discussing.

Kaindel.

The man who was now nothing more than a stranger to me.

“…”

For a moment, I forgot to breathe.

Their words burrowed deep, dragging me down like quicksand.

It couldn’t be true.

He couldn’t be that man.

He mustn’t be.

I knew what they meant by “servant.” I wasn’t naïve.

And so, I hoped, desperately, that they were wrong.

“Why didn’t the Hero come with the Princess?”

But they said the Hero sold his smile and fleeting moments to his patrons.

“I’m not sure, but they do seem to suit each other.”

They said he sold his body to raise funds for his family.

“Maybe he was born a philanderer.”

The overwhelming truth I had barely glimpsed surged over me like a tidal wave.

Something I had desperately clung to snapped clean.

“A troublemaker, wasn’t he? Never listened to the adults.”

I wanted to spit out the stones lodged in my throat.

No, I wanted to swallow them whole.

“Love isn’t everything to us, Isa.”

My heart pounded wildly.

If I opened my mouth now, everything I had endured would come spilling out.

The turmoil in my gut, unsettled since hearing the news from Harilson, churned into chaos.

I didn’t want to know you as a stranger.

Not like this.

A voice whispered urgently in my ear, urging me to flee.

Listening to their conversation any longer would shatter the fragile peace I had barely managed to grasp.

As I hesitated, the vile conversation continued from within the prayer room.

“So, when have we scheduled the fox hunt?”

“Not finalized yet, as the winds are still unsettled, but we’re looking at the day the wine flows.”

“Wine, you say? That will make for a delightful hunt.”

Fox hunt and wine—cryptic terms.

But knowing whom they had been discussing made their meaning painfully clear.

They were plotting to kill Kaindel.

On the day of the wine, the day he was to marry the Princess.

I couldn’t hold it in any longer.

I clamped a hand over my mouth to stifle the rising bile and bolted.

They might hear my footsteps, but I couldn’t afford to care.

All I could think about was getting away.

“There seems to be a rat among us.”

Viscount Chernian’s low mutter grew distant as I fled.

At the same time, dormant memories stirred.

The laughter of an innocent child drifted on a gentle breeze.

“I love you. So, so much. Please don’t go. Don’t leave me.”

“Ugh.”

When I opened my eyes, I was outside the temple.

Leaning against the stairs, I bent over and emptied my stomach.

And I heaved, and heaved, but it wasn’t enough.

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