TN: Thank Nepper for the chapter.
TL/PR: Ruminas; ED: novicelily
The announcement of Sertia’s death spread shockwaves throughout the Empire.
Though she had stepped down as headmaster, Sertia remained the Empire’s most influential figure.
She was the one who had single-handedly raised the Empire from collapse, slain the Demon King, and served as academy headmaster for years.
Within the Empire’s borders, not a soul existed who didn’t know her name. When news of her death spread, the entire Empire erupted in chaos.
The academy’s headmaster position sat vacant, and many mourned, lamenting that the Empire’s brightest star had been extinguished.
The official cause was listed as illness.
Sertia’s chronic poor health had been common knowledge, and word spread that she had finally succumbed to her long-standing ailment.
Time marched forward.
Albert assumed the position of academy headmaster.
And I, who knew the whole truth and orchestrated Sertia’s death, returned to daily life as if nothing had happened.
Iria continued attending the academy as always.
***
Though considerable time had passed since that day, a heavy atmosphere still hung over the academy.
Various factors contributed to this weight, chief among them was the institution’s string of misfortunes.
The monster attack had already dealt significant damage, and another pillar supporting the Empire had crumbled.
The academy’s people seemed unwilling to accept this reality—students and especially professors.
Regardless of public reaction, every professor at the academy respected Sertia.
And now,
“……”
“……”
As time passed, Ariel, whom I encountered again, wore a deeply contemplative expression.
What thoughts occupied his mind?
Curiosity prompted me to meet his gaze, but as expected, his thoughts remained unreadable.
Normally, I would have let it go, but now I understood something from my conversation with Sertia—why I couldn’t read his memories.
If these eyes’ power stems from the Demon King, as Sertia claimed, then the starlight that opposes the Demon King’s power nullifies it.
Starlight negates the Demon King’s power. Thus, the ability won’t work on Ariel unless all starlight is extracted from his body.
Both Hero and Demon King perish in one generation, and in the next, their successors attend the same academy.
This couldn’t be a mere coincidence. I had almost forgotten that this world was just a novel.
Suppose Ariel, the hero, was this world’s protagonist. Was I, the Demon King candidate, the ultimate villain standing in his path?
I stood beside Ariel. His failure to notice my approach revealed the depth of his contemplation.
Only when I moved directly next to him did he turn toward me.
“Ah, Iria, it’s you.”
“Is something wrong?”
I asked.
His thoughts had piqued my curiosity earlier, but I couldn’t read them, so I asked directly.
I knew something troubled him, but I couldn’t fathom how Sertia’s death connected to him.
Now, with no reason to hide, he slowly began speaking.
“I lost both parents when I was young. The headmaster took me in. No, she wasn’t headmaster anymore, was she? But that’s how it happened.”
“……”
“Then she sent me to an orphanage. Said she didn’t want to see me anymore. Later, I learned she had killed my mother, too.”
Ariel’s mother was Karen, the saint.
The curse had spread before Sertia’s intervention, eventually transforming Karen into a living disaster.
Strictly speaking, Sertia hadn’t killed Karen. The moment the curse transformed her into a monster, she was already dead.
The curse killed Karen—Sertia merely stopped the monster that moved her corpse.
And surely,
The person most haunted by that incident must have been Sertia herself.
She suffered greatly in isolation because of her extreme hatred for the Demon King.
‘I wasn’t responsible, so I wished she hadn’t taken it out on me.’
Ariel continued.
“I was probably five years old. When I was very young, my mother was still alive. She had a habit of disappearing somewhere occasionally. Whenever that happened, I’d ask the headmaster about my mother’s whereabouts, and she would answer.”
Ariel paused, seeming lost in distant memories.
“That day was another of Mother’s disappearances. I went to ask the headmaster as usual, but……”
“But?”
“That day, blood stained the headmaster’s clothes. After a long silence, she told me she’d killed Mother. Just those words, no explanation.”
“Ah.”
“I killed your mother—that’s how it turned out, though I’m late in saying it.”
“……”
“And she said she didn’t want to see my face anymore, so we shouldn’t meet again. After that, she sent me to an orphanage with a substantial sum of money. You know the rest.”
He had grown up with Sera at the orphanage, becoming who he is today.
So that explained her request to convey her apologies.
In truth, she had wanted to say it face-to-face. I’d learned that when reading her final memories.
The relationship between Sertia and Ariel ran deeper than I’d imagined.
I understand the situation now. But how did Ariel view her? Did he still harbor resentment?
“Do you resent her?”
I asked if he still resented Sertia. She wanted to know this—her final curiosity before death.
Ariel remained silent for a while, clearly deep in thought.
But unlike me, Ariel was more aware of his surroundings. Even while pondering deeply, he quickly answered after noticing me waiting beside him.
“I did resent her. Back then, I was too young to understand anything. I probably resented her until I entered the academy.”
“Didn’t she explain why she killed her?”
“……She said she didn’t want to tell such a young child that his mother had become a hideous monster. She thought it better to be hated.”
To Sertia, Ariel was as precious as her fallen comrades. Understandable since he resembled them. He represented a trace of those lost companions in this world.
How had Sertia felt, receiving bitter looks even from him?
I rarely empathize with human emotions, but seeing Sertia’s final expression, I thought I understood.
The path she had walked until now.
From beginning to end, Sertia tried to do what was right, choosing humanity’s salvation over her own.
She had done so in the distant past, continued after being left alone, and even in her final moments, tried to eliminate me, humanity’s enemy.
I, her killer, may lack the right to judge, but Sertia deserved no one’s resentment.
Especially not from Ariel, who shared her righteous nature.
This mire of twisted misunderstandings proved crueler than I’d imagined. At least, that’s what I concluded after hearing the story.
Ariel’s contemplative mood made sense. Sertia’s death must have deeply affected him.
At that moment, I decided to deliver the deceased’s message. I addressed the pensive Ariel.
“I met the headmaster once before she died.”
“How?”
“Must I explain?”
“No need. You must have your reasons. What did you discuss?”
I recalled her words and whispered while the sword pierced her heart.
And then,
“She asked me to tell you she’s sorry. To you.”
“……”
The words seemed to weigh heavily on Ariel.
I stood there waiting, but Ariel remained silent.
Having delivered the message, I decided to leave him alone.
How to accept those words was his decision alone.
***
Ask anyone to name the Empire’s most influential institution, and they’d point to either the academy or the knights’ order.
These organizations, staffed with elite personnel hand-picked by Sertia, directly managed the Empire.
So what ranked next in influence?
The Empire, as the continent’s capital, housed many renowned institutions, but after the knights’ order and academy, the central church stood the largest.
This sanctuary worshipped the sun god and bestowed divine grace upon the injured.
The central church’s sterling reputation stemmed not only from its history and scale but primarily from its direct opposition to the Demon King.
It supplied holy water to the knights’ order fighting the Demon King’s army and produced the saint who served in the previous hero’s party.
And this generation’s saint, whom the central church proudly claimed, was—
“Clana.”
“Yes, yes?”
“Get down from the podium. You look undignified.”
She had been napping in a particularly sunny spot in the church.
Was she really that idle? She seemed rather lazy.
The abbess sighed, noting how unbefitting such behavior was for a saint.
Did the saint herself realize that her pure white attire revealed glimpses of her underwear? Probably not. If she had known, she wouldn’t have been in such a position.
“Clana.”
The abbess called her name, now accustomed to such sights.
“Yes! Is there work?!”
Clana sat up, correcting her posture. The unstimulating church life bored her.
She claimed to be a fresh and energetic saint who always yearned for adventure.
“You could say that.”
“What does that mean?”
“We received a letter from the academy. They’re asking if we’d consider enrolling this generation’s saint.”
“Gasp.”
Clana covered her mouth with her hand.
The academy? That place? Where young men and women attended classes and spent their youth?
Her last visit had been all business, but she had secretly wanted to explore more.
“They seem short-staffed. The academy always seeks talented individuals. Of course, your wishes matter most—if you don’t want to go, we can decline……”
“I want to go!!”
Clana answered enthusiastically, her mind already racing.
The opportunity she had always dreamed of had finally arrived.