Chapter 8

After a short conversation with Roka, the child started to look at me less often.

Now, even when I’m inside the house, they wander around the room. It’s still hard for them to make eye contact, and if I smile and greet them, they flinch and just bow their head. But the fact that they don’t run away like before is already a huge improvement.

“Faster than I thought.”

Day by day, the changes seem slow, but when you look at it week by week, it’s surprisingly fast.

Even though I’m alone, I have the Lord behind me, but that child has no one to communicate with. When I think about it, maybe it’s not as fast as I thought.

“It would be nice if Roka had a friend.”

Would they like it if there were a cat or a dog in the house?

…Would they? I don’t know much about the habits of beastfolk, so I really can’t say.

“The beastfolk live in the northeastern part of the empire, a place I don’t usually go.”

The western part of the continent. The Demon World ruled by the demon race is a place I’ve ventured into as often as eating meals. The forest of the elves, Elvenheim in the southeast, is also a place I’ve been to, though not everyone can enter.

The Eastern Plains are a place I’ve only heard about in stories, never visited. The stories I’ve heard are all old tales, not much different from the stories I heard from the elders back home.

Demons and demon kings are generally not in the north but in the west and south.

Except for one. The one who always defies the words “generally” or “mostly.”

The Primal Demon King, Grimudo, is the only one who resides in the far north of the empire. Perhaps his monster army is with him, but monsters can’t speak.

“It wasn’t easy just to get there.”

The Arctic is such a place. No one wants to live there.

First of all, the Kalkanmir Mountain Range, the highest mountain range on the continent, blocks the northern part of the continent. You have to somehow cross it to see the northern snowfields. Even with the blessing of one of the Lord’s miracles, the feather of the Bluebird, the journey was not easy.

Grimudo lives alone in such a harsh place, lonely, having built his Polaris Fortress there. Living there is a continuous challenge in the most difficult terrain.

“Shamefully, I might not be able to meet him again.”

Grimudo told us that he freely releases his monsters.

If they attacked your hometown, it wasn’t because of my will.

It’s probably true. He consistently overwhelmed us while saying that, so there was no reason for him to lie. But wasn’t he the one who raised those dangerous monsters?

I can’t help but resent and hate him.

If I could just throw ashes in his face, I would do it without hesitation.

But I have already failed, and the Lord has taken away my most powerful miracle.

I have no choice but to leave the revenge to Yurinel. If I face him alone again, it would be suicide, and if I gather new comrades, it would only be a group suicide.

*Tap.*

At the table, where only a single candle was lit, I quietly drank tea and lost myself in thought.

Thinking about Grimudo always makes me like this. I lose my composure and become more aggressive without realizing it.

The scars of that tragedy still remain in my heart and will never be forgotten. What has already happened cannot be undone, and while physical wounds can be healed, the wounds of the heart cannot.

They may heal, but they can reopen at any time. Even for me, a grown adult, it’s hard. What about that small child?

Moving forward after being hurt is difficult for anyone. Until that child takes a step forward on their own, I will just wait and silently help.

That’s when it happened.

“Definitely.”

*Creak.*

The door opened slightly, and a pair of dark blue eyes sparkled through the gap.

“Really, they must have been bored.”

Those eyes glanced around the living room, but I couldn’t catch them.

*Scamper.* Like a mouse darting through a ditch, the child quickly ran towards the vegetable garden. Their gaze was consistently on the swing.

After carefully watching me ride it, it seems they wanted to try it themselves.

Somehow, I felt a sense of accomplishment for having made it.

“Here we go.”

The child climbed onto the swing and tried to move it by swinging their legs. The swing moved slightly and then stopped. The seat was a bit high, so Roka’s feet didn’t touch the ground while sitting.

Even in that state, if you learn the trick, riding the swing isn’t hard.

But that’s like saying if you farm well, you’ll have a good harvest. It’s easy to say, but it doesn’t consider how much effort is needed to put it into practice.

The child continued to make meaningless movements for a while. When it still didn’t work, they climbed onto the swing.

Grabbing the ropes with both hands and moving this way and that, the swing did move. The problem was that it only moved as much as a gentle breeze would make it.

I put down the tea I was drinking and smiled.

Clapping requires two hands. That child has shown courage, and I don’t plan to just watch.

Roka. I slowly walked towards the child, whose name I had only recently given.

Even in the darkness, I could see their drooping ears. It seems they were disappointed.

It’s time to lift those ears again.

“Not going well, huh?”

I could see their ears perk up as they flinched. The child quickly looked this way.

“Sorry…”

“Everyone is like that at first. Roka, want to sit back down? Normally, you don’t start swinging alone.”

Reflexively, they blurted out an apology. What is there to be sorry about?

There may be many things to be sorry for in life, but it’s okay for a child to be a little brazen. The child hesitated and fidgeted. I just smiled.

Child, there’s nothing to be sorry about.

If you’re scared, it’s okay to stop now.

If Roka runs away again, it means they’re not ready to open their heart yet, and they just need more time. But the child didn’t do that.

Our house wolf just awkwardly sat back down. It was clear that their desire to ride the swing had overcome their fear of me.

“I’ll push you slowly, don’t be too scared.”

I gently pushed their light body, setting the swing in motion. The swing that goes forward will eventually come back. I caught it gently and pushed it again. A simple but fun plaything, the charm of the swing.

As the swing went higher, Roka’s expression brightened. But the real fun doesn’t come from someone else pushing you. You have to learn the trick and swing by your own power.

“Roka, I’m going to stop pushing now. Try to maintain this speed.”

“Huh…?”

“If it slows down, I’ll push you again, so give it a try. You’re not alone.”

But it’s hard to learn the trick on a stationary swing.

You can learn to swing alone, but that’s not the standard. No matter who swings, the start is always someone pushing from behind. You watch until they can swing well on their own, and if they can’t, you push them again.

It’s much faster to learn the trick on a moving swing.

“Ugh… Tsk…”

The first struggle was just a struggle. Roka tried hard to move the swing, but it only slowed down, with no hope of reviving.

When no matter how much you try, nothing works, I reached out and pushed the swing again. Until it reached almost seventy degrees, like before.

“See, it’s not working…”

“Should I stop? Should I keep pushing?”

“…No. I’ll try.”

The second struggle was also futile, but Roka seemed to have developed determination.

They refused my offer and continued to struggle. Those movements were just kicking the air, and it seemed like nothing was left. But all that process is learning and mastering.

The third time, they maintained the speed longer than before. Of course, it slowed down again.

The fourth time, it seemed like they were doing well, but they still didn’t succeed. But it was clear they were improving. After failing repeatedly, Roka seemed to develop a sense of rivalry. Whether it’s a competitive spirit or determination, I’m not sure.

“Ugh…”

Watching the child gnawing their lips in frustration, I just pushed their back.

If you keep going without giving up after failure, you’ll surely be able to do it.

Yes, this moment.

Right here. This is probably the moment that child desperately wished for.

Like magic, the swing that was about to slow down started to speed up again.

“Whoa?!”

Under the bright moonlight, I could see the joy on Roka’s face. I didn’t push the child anymore. The swing, continuing to gain momentum, swayed more and more.

The child’s face looked happy. For the first time since I met them.

All the things piled up. All the things endured. All the hardships. All the things they couldn’t bring themselves to say.

If only they could be blown away with the wind, like smoke.

“Ahaha, ahahaha!”

Laughing happily, unconsciously letting out laughter, that’s the expression a child should have.

But how long has it been since they had something to laugh about? Their smile was awkward, as if forced. The laughter was stiff, cutting off with each sound. Seeing that smile hurts my heart.

“Lord, please grant happiness to that child.”

Long ago, a child who lost their parents to a manticore,

And all the people in the village who lost their neighbors and families,

At a time when smiles should have bloomed brightly, they barely managed to smile.

A smile born out of sorrow is always poignant.

It doesn’t make people happy, it just makes them sad.

“No, please grant it.”

Not wanting to see that expression anymore is my small selfishness.