Chapter 244: The Message Written on the Communication Orb

They were on their way back from the deep forest north of the royal palace. After meeting the leader of Sorse, Giselle’s complexion worsened even further.

Luman was curious what kind of conversation they had shared, but he no longer asked about Giselle’s movements.

“It feels like you’re preparing for our end.”

Luman said coolly.

“Should I write a will or something?”

He only tossed out occasional jokes.

Before using his authority, Luman lifted Giselle’s body and thought.

Maybe Ragniel would die.

In truth, there was an extremely high probability he would.

And the fate of Giselle, who had dared to hold onto his breath with authority, could not be guaranteed either. Nor could the fate of the Heroes.

Yet even in that situation, Giselle did not waver.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

The moment Luman rose onto his toes, space split apart, and in an instant they were sucked into it.

Fine light tore through the darkness and guided Luman. A bizarre sensation, as though time itself were reversing, wrapped around his body.

As the light carved through space, their time began to tangle. Some erased memories also shattered into tiny fragments and scattered like fireflies. Luman’s face twisted horribly. He glared at Giselle with resentful eyes.

But even that lasted no longer than the blink of an eye.

In a single instant, they arrived at the royal palace.

Massive palaces crowned with elegant arching roofs looked down upon them.

Without understanding why, Luman rubbed his cheek.

“......Why am I crying?”

Luman blinked slowly. Was it raining? No. What ran down his face was definitely his own tears.

Letting out an absurd laugh, Luman turned toward Giselle.

“Did you kick me or something? If you tell me honestly, I’m willing to go easy on you.”

Even while speaking, the tears refused to stop, like the midsummer rainy season.

Giselle, who had paused while staring at those wet eyes, opened his mouth.

“I’m sorry.”

Then Giselle turned around.

Luman, frozen by the absurd words, shouted at the retreating back.

“Hey, Giselle! Seriously?”

No matter how many times he called, Giselle never looked back.

“Hah.”

Luman laughed emptily.

It seemed the tears would not stop easily.

***

Seeing the wet face, Giselle felt suffocated.

Luman was someone who had thrown away anything resembling a human heart long ago. It was not that Giselle had failed to notice Luman’s feelings toward that child, but after facing the fragments of shattered light, Giselle could no longer remain as calm as before.

Barely managing to move his feet and leave Luman’s sight, Giselle stopped where he stood.

The moment Luman opened the path of light and guided him, Giselle saw memories pouring down in torn fragments. Those memories fell like snow, spread like mist, shone like stars, then scattered away into light.

The lingering affection inside those brilliantly shining memories felt as though it were choking Giselle’s throat.

Yet even within the light of authority, that child’s face and name could not be seen.

Even Giselle could not remember them.

The end of the ritual was approaching.

Giselle recognized memories becoming blurrier than ever before.

There was no longer any need to wait for word of success.

His fading memories were proof enough.

The memories of the one leading the ritual breaking apart meant this was the final day.

Even if they failed to take his life.

His existence would forever be erased from this world.

Giselle prepared a cake for that child.

For the star that would fall before reaching adulthood.

“Um, Lord Giselle, should I bring plates and utensils as well?”

The attendant who had come at Giselle’s summons placed the cake on the table, then cautiously asked.

“No. You may leave now. Thank you for your work.”

“Yes, thank you!”

After the attendant withdrew, Giselle personally placed candles onto the cake.

He did not light them. The one who could blow them out would never be able to come here.

Moment by moment, he could feel that child’s existence fading.

Eventually, even the fact that he had placed that child upon the great ritual would be forgotten, and the old prophecy would once again be buried away. As though it had never descended into the world. Just like that child, whose very traces of having been born into this world would disappear.

If that was Ragniel’s will.

And if that could grant perfect freedom.

“I hope you live a new life. Lucia.”

Giselle whispered the name he had barely managed to remember. His voice full of pity scattered like smoke.

He closed his eyes deeply. As though he would never open them again.

Yet no matter how tightly one closed their eyes, there were truths that could not be turned away from.

Inside Giselle’s closed eyes rose the image of the golden button shattering into light with a brilliant flash, and Ragniel’s eyes staring at him.

His tightly shut eyelids trembled faintly.

***

“I’m fine, so could you stop asking questions and open the door?”

“......Yes.”

The knight guarding the door opened it without complaint.

“Haa.”

Luman sighed and stepped into the room.

The moment he entered, his breath caught. The authority tightly filling the room seemed to crush him down. Of course, Luman himself was also adding strength to it. His eyes shone brightly. Solely to protect Ragniel.

“Luman—”

Geloman, who had called out to him, closed his mouth.

Because Luman’s face was completely soaked. He glanced toward the window. The sky was perfectly clear.

“I thought it was raining. Why are you crying?”

“Haa. Don’t ask, don’t ask. I don’t know either.”

Luman rubbed his cheek. He rubbed hard enough for his skin to sting.

“Here.”

“Oh, thanks.”

Geloman took out a handkerchief and handed it over. Luman buried his face in the handkerchief and drew a deep breath. The handkerchief became soaked almost immediately.

After remaining like that for a while, Luman lowered the handkerchief. Geloman was still staring at him.

“Why are you staring at me like that? I’ll wash the handkerchief and return it.”

“Keep it.”

Luman let out a small laugh at the kindness, then narrowed his eyes.

“Wait, don’t tell me.”

Looking more closely, Geloman’s eyes were red as well.

“You cried too?”

Luman reflexively rushed to the bed. Instantly checking Ragniel’s pulse, he let out a sigh of relief.

He had never once imagined Geloman crying, and seeing traces of it chilled him for a moment.

Luman glared accusingly at Geloman.

“You scared me.”

A dangerous thought crossed his mind, that everything had almost ended.

Without even knowing what exactly was included in the “everything” his instincts had sensed, Luman still thought it.

Groaning weakly, Luman slid down beside the bed and leaned against it.

“You startled me. I thought Ragniel’s breathing had stopped.”

“There’s no way.”

Right. There was no way Ragniel would die.

Luman muttered in an exhausted voice. Crying so much had drained all strength from him.

“Geloman. Then why were you crying?”

Meeting the gaze looking up at him quite seriously, Geloman shook his head.

“The tears simply came. I do not know why.”

“You too?”

Luman gave a small laugh.

“Ragniel needs to wake up soon and see how ridiculous we look.”

Luman squeezed his eyes shut. He was still crying. As though someone had turned on a faucet, and as though Luman himself had no authority to shut it off. All he could do was let the tears stream endlessly down. His eyes stung and his cheeks were soaked, unbearably uncomfortable, yet unless he fainted, the tears did not seem likely to stop.

“Is it only you and me?”

Earlier, Giselle had looked completely fine. Though after seeing Luman crying, he had left first as though annoyed.

When was Giselle coming back?

Luman glanced toward the unopened door, then searched for Temar.

“He’s over there.”

Geloman pointed behind himself. Luman lifted his gaze toward where the hand indicated.

Temar stood there blankly staring at the wall. No—looking more closely, he was staring at a painting hanging on the wall.

“What’s he looking at?”

Luman narrowed his eyes. Temar’s body completely blocked the painting, leaving only the frame barely visible.

“How long has he been standing like that?”

“All day.”

“Hah.”

A nasal sound began creeping into Luman’s voice. Geloman and Luman simultaneously stiffened their expressions. Neither of them wanted to hear the nasal voice of a grown man.

Naturally, silence drifted through the room.

It seemed none of the three had any intention of breaking the heavy silence.

Until Giselle returned much later, they remained silent.

And throughout that entire time, Luman kept thinking.

Why exactly he was crying.

But no matter how much he searched his memories, he could not find the reason for his tears.

The moment he realized he could not find it, Luman felt a strange sensation, as though he himself were hollow inside. He was certain he had lost something important. Yet soon even that sensation vanished cleanly, and Luman’s tears also stopped completely. As though he had never cried at all. As though everyone had forgotten the memory itself. Afterward, no one ever mentioned the matter again.

Two days later.

Temar suddenly spat out a name as though suffering a seizure.

“Ren—!”

It was a scream-like cry. Yet that name reached neither the ears of the others nor even Temar’s own ears.

“What are you saying?”

Luman, blankly staring into empty air, scratched his head.

“Hey. Temar. Don’t tell me you’ve finally gone insane from using too much authority.”

“Temar, you’re noisy.”

Geloman added a word as well, frowning. He had been training his stiff body. Looking at him soaked completely in sweat, Temar tilted his head.

“......What did I just say?”

“Ugh, could you not make expressions like that with a body your size? It makes me sick. Puts me in a bad mood too.”

At Luman’s words, Temar’s expression immediately hardened.

After a brief rest, they once again devoted themselves to covering Ragniel with authority.

The name that vanished the instant it was spoken, like vapor scattering away, remained in no one’s memory.

Dark night.

The Heroes each occupied a large sofa and rested with their eyes closed. Exhaustion was heavy across every face.

The only thing illuminating the darkened room was a single small lamp.

When someone who had not fallen asleep lifted the lamp, the firelight swayed and cast shadows along the wall. Quiet footsteps moved forward, then knelt beside the bed where Ragniel lay.

The person silently staring at the pale face sleeping motionlessly like the dead set the lamp down.

At last, soft orange light revealed the man’s face.

It was Giselle.

He took hold of Ragniel’s hand resting neatly beneath the blanket.

The hand, devoid of all warmth, was cold like that of a corpse.

Clasping Ragniel’s hand tightly, Giselle quietly stared at him.

Inside his gaze swirled countless unspoken things like a raging storm. They would likely never be conveyed.

Long strands of hair swayed with the movement of his head.

The hair blocked the lamp’s light like a curtain, swallowing even Giselle’s side profile entirely.

His face submerged in dim shadow. Yet his gaze remained fixed on Ragniel.

Giselle’s lips moved secretly.

A small light shattered through the air, and Giselle pressed his forehead against the back of Ragniel’s hand.

Whether it was regret, a sigh, or perhaps despair.

An incomprehensible sigh lingered there for a long time.

And one day later.

Giselle collapsed violently to the floor together with a deafening ringing sound.

The price of the failed ritual had struck down the one who led it.

Inside his arms, the communication orb that should never have activated flashed brightly with light.

The message written on the communication orb was as follows.

[Mission failed.]