It was a deep autumn night.
The peacefully chirping birds had vanished, and the sorrowful hoots of owls began to dominate the silent autumn night, their sharp eyes scanning the darkness.
In the middle of the room, Sir Jericho stood still, contemplating. A faint hoot echoed among the noises drifting in from outside the wide-open window.
“……”
For some reason, that hoot felt very much like himself.
Sir Jericho stared vacantly at the raindrops bouncing against the window frame. The cool autumn wind danced alongside the droplets.
The rain falling on that autumn night was indeed pouring heavily, as if it were spilling out the water that hadn’t fallen during the monsoon season.
Suddenly, a strong impulse to embrace that rain washed over Sir Jericho. If he were to let himself get drenched in that rain and face the autumn night wind, it would surely be cold.
What he needed now was coldness. In other words, he needed reason.
Reason is inherently cold. Sir Jericho was burning with an intense heat.
The air in the room was cold. The wind gently blowing in from outside the window was cold. The raindrops bouncing against the window frame were cold. There was no warmth to be found.
And Sir Jericho’s expression, standing there motionless.
It too was absurdly cold. Indeed it was…
‘Why… why is it like this…’
Why, encased in such a cold exterior, was his innermost being boiling so fervently?
It felt as if Sir Jericho had swallowed fire. A fire that could never extinguish, sinking into the cold abyss as it blazed.
It was hot. Too hot.
Hot, and then, and then…
‘Ah, pain.’
Sir Jericho took a step toward the bed placed in one corner of the room. His large body swayed precariously.
– You see, I have lost most of the comrades I once knew.
He had lost most of his comrades.
That was true for Sir Jericho as well. He had often been told he was brusque, too focused solely on swordsmanship in the past, but it seemed he had at least been a bit brighter back then.
He used to have many friends. He had comrades he shared joy and hardship with, and they helped each other grow through their sparring sessions.
And most of them were dead now.
The Imperial Knight Order was a group of elite forces renowned for their prowess in the Empire. In other words, they were unmatched in their ability to charge into battle and tear through enemy lines.
And this ultimately led the knights of the Imperial Knight Order to frequently face deaths due to reckless operations and charges.
– Do you know how they died?
Sir Jericho did not know how they had died. High-level personnel like those in the Imperial Knight Order were allocated as limited “resources” to each battlefield, and to utilize them efficiently, the Empire’s offensive tactics relied on a two-man squad system.
The knights’ legs were as strong as iron, and their arms wielded swords as if they were ferocious beasts charging in. As long as they led the charge against the trenches, the soldiers following them felt as if they were fighting behind an impregnable fortress.
Because ordinary soldiers were weak.
They suffered severe injuries if merely grazed by a bullet. They could neither dodge the bullets nor deflect them.
In the end, if they sustained gunshot wounds in lethal areas, they would die. This was true for Archmages and Swordmasters as well, but…
At least they could deploy defense magic to block the bullets or cut them down before they even reached them.
And not all the knights of the Imperial Knight Order were Swordmasters.
Five full years passed since the war broke out.
Lost in a trance of cutting down enemies, Sir Jericho heard the news that 60% of the Imperial Knight Order deployed at the front lines had sacrificed their lives.
Among them were those he often spent time with.
That notice. That single notice. Upon hearing that cruel decree, Sir Jericho…
– But I remember it all.
“Ugh…”
He could not remember their deaths.
Sir Jericho gripped his chest tightly. The pounding of his heart sounded as if it would burst at any moment.
In a room where only the sound of rain echoed softly, the pounding sounded as loud as construction noises to Sir Jericho.
– Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.
This sound. This relentless heartbeat!
“Ugh, ha…”
It drove Sir Jericho mad. He rushed toward the bed.
With unsteady steps, he seemed on the verge of tripping and falling at any moment.
Upon reaching the bed, his body collapsed almost as if he were an old tree propped up by only the thick arms that supported him.
“Hah… Hah…”
Sir Jericho thought he was like a shark. He could not breathe if he remained still, and his heart would stop… just like those sharks.
Sir Jericho was ‘doing what he had to do’… No.
– Don’t stop, keep fighting. Brendan Warren Jericho.
‘What I must do.’ It meant to keep fighting without resting.
It meant protecting the Empire that she had dedicated her life to. In other words, it meant eradicating the pests that gnawed at the Empire… He had thought it was akin to a shark swimming.
But that thought was wrong. It was being disproven right here and now.
Jericho, witnessing the harsh reality that he had not wanted to know, desperately averted his eyes.
“Ugh, ugh…!”
– Thud! Thud!
No matter how much he struggled, crumpled the bedspread, threw the violently grasped pillow, and slammed the bed,
– Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.
His heart thumped violently. As if to signal him not to resist, and not to do anything at all.
He worried foolishly that his heart might just explode at any moment. Sir Jericho could not control his trembling breath.
He had lived thinking that he was simply doing what he had to do. He had slaved away at a life devoid of regrets, pursuing only that.
Yet that was not the case…
‘Simply to justify… the reason I alone survived… the meaning behind it…’
Due to someone’s death, it was Sir Jericho himself who clung to life.
After losing the precious person he had respected and followed for his entire life before his very eyes, he had rationalized his existence by adhering to the words left behind after her death, the ‘reasons to live on.’
But if that were the case. If the efforts he had made to continue this damned life stemmed from such a vile reason…
‘What should I… do…’
Sir Jericho was utterly confused. Right now, the only one who could resolve this situation…
‘…Antorelli, Professor.’
Sir Jericho rose. His legs quivered, threatening to give way beneath him, but he managed to stand. He looked like a ‘child’ just beginning to walk.
The one who could explain this situation. The one who might tell him nothing but the truth, wandering through a life that had lost even its purpose, searching aimlessly.
For some reason, only Professor Antorelli came to mind.
– Clutch! Clank!
Draped haphazardly in his coat, Sir Jericho exited the room.
He wasn’t wandering aimlessly. At least, at this moment, the fact that he knew exactly where to go brought him more relief than anything else.
‘I must go… to the Academy…’
His once shaky steps returned to a vigorous stride. It was such a joyous thing to have a destination.
“Senpai?”
As he hurried to leave the knight order’s branch, Nina, who always followed him around, appeared before Sir Jericho. His startled eyes turned towards her.
“W-Where are you going at this time of night? Are you going on a night patrol? No, more importantly, what about your umbrella…?”
“……”
“Ah… Senpai…?”
Sir Jericho’s eyes shook violently. He wasn’t pleased that Nina had seen him in such a disheveled state.
For reasons unknown, Sir Jericho felt like he wanted to hide in a mouse hole at that moment. But…
‘I have to go…’
He must go. He must go to the Academy. Right now.
“Sen—Senpai? Senpai?!!”
Sir Jericho dashed out without hesitating. Nina, wearing a completely flustered expression uncharacteristic of her, tried to stop him, but her hand was easily brushed aside.
“Senpai! Where on earth are you going at this late hour?! Senpai!!”
Sir Jericho kept walking. He walked recklessly.
And then, he ran. His steps quickened into a sprint.
“Hah…! Hah…!”
In other words, he ran. Until nothing could be heard. Until the heavy rain pounded his face and blurred his vision.
“Sen—! …pai—! Umbrella—!”
Nina’s hurried voice trailing behind him grew fainter, until even the faint sound was drowned out. Sir Jericho ran without care.
– Traitor.
“Ugh…!”
His heart ached. Even when still, it thudded loudly, but now, as he sprinted with all his might, it began to pound painfully, as if it would burst at even the slightest stimulation.
– Traitor. The sole surviving traitor.
– Do you know how we died?
– You’re lucky to be alive.
“Ah, no…! I’m… I’m not like that…!”
– You’re a traitor. Aren’t you glad to survive alone?
“No—!!”
As Sir Jericho dashed down the rain-soaked streets, he screamed with all his might.
“No! No! I’m not a traitor! I didn’t survive because I wanted to!”
Veins bulged in his neck. His throat, strained from shouting, felt painfully close to bleeding. It wouldn’t be strange if his heart burst right now.
“I didn’t want this either! If I had known I would be the one to survive, I would have preferred to die from the start, just like that—!!”
– Don’t stop, keep fighting. Brendan Warren Jericho.
Thud.
– For what you wish to protect… keep fighting.
Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.
– You must keep fighting…
“Please, shut up—!!!”
His clothes were getting drenched, yet Sir Jericho was too frantic to even notice.
As the silence returned to the streets he had run through, those awoken by the unexpected commotion extinguished the lights that had lit the dark streets and returned to their slumber.
It was a deep autumn night.
*
“……”
His eyes slowly opened. I turned on the lamp on the bedside table and slowly turned my head to look at the wall clock.
My neck felt stiff as though it were entangled, but somehow, I managed to turn my head.
“…Half past three.”
It was too early to wake up, yet not quite time to start the day, a moment when people were still deeply asleep.
My drowsy mind strongly urged me to return to bed, but my wide-open eyes cast aside that allure. It must have been due to the unsettling dreams from earlier.
– Drip. Drip.
It was raining outside. The sound of droplets hitting the window made me stare blankly out for a while.
“…A walk.”
Though I didn’t take them as frequently as before, I found walking at night after having woken from a nightmare to be good. The stroll I once took with Priest Peter had become somewhat of a routine for me now.
I slowly got out of bed and put on my priestly robe. It was a bit excessive for a walk, but I had no other clothes.
Having hastily donned my clothes, I stepped out of the dormitory. I remembered the experience of being unable to enter the chapel because I had forgotten the key, so I made sure to bring the chapel key along with my umbrella.
The downpour hitting my umbrella was so intense that it almost felt like an unexpected monsoon. If I got caught in the rain in this weather, I would instantly turn into a soaked rat.
How long had I been walking towards the chapel?
“……”
I found myself face to face with a towering figure standing motionless at the chapel’s entrance.
“Sir Jericho?”
Hoping against hope, I called his name, and the towering dark figure slowly turned. Eventually, his yellow eyes glimmering in the dark focused on me.
“…Professor.”
“Sir. What brings you here…?”
“I wish to make a confession.”
I fell silent. My mind couldn’t keep up with the situation.
To awaken me from that haze, Sir Jericho’s trembling voice split through the rain once more.
“I wish to make a confession.”
“……”
“…Please.”
He was asking for forgiveness.
Like a child who had committed a wrong.
“…Please come in.”
To the intangible deity named ‘life.’
