Chapter 56
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Chapter 56
From that day forward, Yurien and I began our nights of shared vigilance. Alternating watch duties meant our waking hours together were brief—merely sharing meals at dawn and dusk. Yet even that fleeting time proved sufficient. We spoke of many things.
I learned that Lancel, my younger brother, harbored romantic notions of knighthood but lacked talent with the blade, so he pursued swordplay only as a cultured accomplishment while focusing his studies on estate management. I discovered he possessed a genuine aptitude for it, his interests spanning commerce, trade, agriculture, and mining with equal enthusiasm.
Yurien also heard me speak of Nicole—how she was like a sister to me, how I had pestered her endlessly in childhood. When I mentioned that my parents had married for love and remained devoted to each other, I noticed his cheeks flush slightly, though I wondered what thought had provoked such a reaction.
I learned that Yurien and Dietrich shared an unusually close friendship, and that Baron, the Vice-Commander, had once been his mentor. I heard how Dietrich came from common birth but received patronage from a nobleman impressed by his talent, earning a noble name and entrance to the Military Academy. It was my first time learning that Baron was a married man with a young daughter and wife.
I also discovered that Yurien had left the Imperial Palace at sixteen and begun living in Agenka, spending nearly two years there alone until reaching eighteen—the minimum age for Military Academy admission. Yet he never spoke of his father's hatred toward him or of being forced to choose between his siblings.
During idle moments, I learned he spent his time carving wooden blocks. Watching over the Shelter through the night without occupation would inevitably breed tedium, yet Yurien would select small pieces of wood and whittle them with his dagger, crafting something from each.
Animals like horses and rabbits, miniature weapons and armor, tiny trees and houses—rough though his technique appeared, the wooden carvings grew increasingly refined. Since they served merely to pass the time, he never collected his finished pieces. When I took my turn at watch near the stump where he sat, I would find small carvings scattered carelessly about.
During my watch, I either conversed with the Demonic Sword or examined the carvings Yurien had left behind, whiling away the hours.
On the seventh day, I discovered a small blade among the pile of carvings—a shape I recognized instantly. No larger than my palm, it was unmistakably Rangiosa, or at least a miniature representation of it.
I turned it over in my hands for a long time. When I see a holy sword, Yurien naturally comes to mind. He and Rangiosa resembled each other so closely. This carving was too precious to discard. I wrapped it carefully in a handkerchief and kept it. Observing me, the Demonic Sword spoke with a petulant tone.
[Listen, Master. Why do you treat only Yurien differently? You give him special treatment, and you treat the sword he gave you specially too. I don't understand.]
"Because he's a special person."
[What's so special about him? You've killed more than just him, and he's not even your family.]
I rested my chin in my hand and gazed downward, contemplating. Should I answer honestly? Would the Demonic Sword even comprehend? My silence prompted Bardegiosa to whine insistently.
[What is it? What? I'm really curious. My previous master never had anyone like that.]
"Your previous master had no one special to him?"
[He cherished his family greatly. Besides family, there was no one like that.]
"...Do you understand why people cherish their families?"
[Well, my previous master taught me that humans are born from humans, so it's natural to treasure those who gave birth to you or were born from the same womb. But there are humans who want to kill their families, aren't there? Much of the murderous intent I accumulate comes from such things. So honestly, I don't really understand. Do humans truly cherish their families? Do they all cherish their families while wanting to kill them?]
It was a question difficult to answer simply. I found myself studying my right palm with newfound contemplation. The pattern hidden beneath my glove was so familiar I could draw it with my eyes closed.
I had spent over nine years with Bardegiosa, yet I could never bring myself to love the Demonic Sword. If I could abandon it, I would. Yet I could not truly hate it either. Even when it urged me to kill, the Demonic Sword seemed like an immature child.
I had heard that Giosa's consciousness fundamentally remained dormant. Without awakening, that consciousness could neither stir nor experience anything. If that were true, then Bardegiosa, having awakened only twice counting myself, was essentially no different from a child.
I clenched my right fist and explained slowly.
"It's because humans are not simple. They differ by temperament, by the environment in which they were raised, by their convictions. Even the same person is never entirely consistent. Depending on what they experience, they can change completely, or their essence might never change at all, regardless of circumstance..."
[Ugh, what is that? It's complicated! I don't understand what you're saying!]
The Demonic Sword grumbled with exasperation. I laughed softly.
"Someday you'll be able to understand."
[Tch, that's just grasping at clouds. My previous master said the same thing...]
"It's a problem difficult to explain in words. You can only understand it through direct experience."
[Hey, then at least teach me this. Why do you treat someone who isn't even family so specially?]
My face flushed. I rested my chin in my hand and gazed toward the Shelter. After my lips moved silently several times, I answered quietly.
"Because I like him. When you like someone, they become special even if they're not family."
[Because you like him? I don't understand. Is that feeling similar to pleasure?]
"No, it's quite different. Because I like him, I also suffer."
[What? That's strange! Why treat someone who causes you suffering so specially?]
"That's difficult to explain."
As I shrugged, the Demonic Sword seemed to struggle with understanding for a long while before ultimately sighing in defeat.
[Will I be able to understand this too as time passes?]
"Perhaps."
I answered with a slight smile, but rustling sounds came from behind me. Without turning around, I knew exactly who it was—Yurien de Harden Kirie, who should have been sleeping in the barracks, was approaching.
"Lord? Why aren't you sleeping?"
"Sleep eludes me tonight. I must have overindulged in my afternoon rest."
He replied matter-of-factly and settled onto a rock beside the stump where I sat. I accepted his presence naturally—a far cry from the tension and scattered thoughts that once plagued me at the mere sight of him. A week of shared conversations had bridged that chasm.
"The Shelter?"
"Still quiet."
"I see."
The conversation ended there, yet no awkwardness lingered. I gazed upward at the night sky. Stars scattered like diamonds across the darkness, and the moon hung full and luminous. At the tail end of spring, the breeze carried a perfect chill. It was a beautiful night.
I lowered my gaze to the figure beside me. The firelight from the campfire, kindled beyond the Valley's sight, flickered across his back. Half-shrouded in shadow, Yurien de Harden Kirie gazed downward, his stillness as profound as the night itself.
I toyed absently with the Amethyst secured at my waist, then suddenly spoke.
"Lord."
He didn't answer, merely tilting his head slightly. The darkness posed no obstacle to my moonlit vision, yet his falling hair obscured his expression. I asked impulsively.
"Would you spar with me now?"
Half impulse, half deliberation. I'd been contemplating a match for days, and this moment felt perfectly suited. I couldn't request a duel during meals, nor could I ask someone who'd kept watch over the Shelter all night. For a week, the opportunity had eluded me.
At my proposal, Yurien de Harden Kirie stiffened in surprise. His hair swayed with the movement, revealing his face. Beneath trembling silver lashes, his sky-blue eyes widened enormously. His breath caught, his lips parting slightly.
He remained motionless for a long moment, not even blinking. Moonlight pooled upon his disheveled hair. Then, slowly, as though doubting his own ears, he asked again.
"...Are you sincere?"
That gentle question struck me like a cold blade piercing my chest. I had no intention of sparring earnestly, yet he trembled so visibly. Perhaps this was worse than a lie. Should I refuse now?
But I needed to know. I needed to understand why he took such interest in me. Without that knowledge, I could not move forward. Otherwise, I would remain trapped in this cycle—watching him with flutter in my heart, then doubting, then hoping foolishly, then snapping back to denial.
"Yes. If you're willing, Lord."
I answered while avoiding his gaze, then rose from the stump. I took several steps toward a clearing suitable for sparring.
Yurien de Harden Kirie didn't follow immediately, remaining seated for a moment. Then he stood and approached me, his steps slightly unsteady.
I waited quietly until he stood directly before me. Though his hands were empty, he could manifest his holy sword, so no separate weapon was necessary. I placed one hand on Amethyst's hilt and opened my mouth.
"I'll—"
My voice cracked with tension. After clearing my throat several times and steadying myself, I spoke again.
"I'll strike first."
"...Understood."
"Once you manifest your sword, we begin."
"Very well."
Despite the distance between us and the late hour, I saw him with perfect clarity. His expression was dazed, as though he couldn't believe this moment was real.
He lowered his right hand. Golden patterns bloomed across his palm, radiating light that coalesced into a white holy sword. He moved to grasp it but let it slip through his fingers.
"Ah."
Rangiosa struck the ground silently. Yurien de Harden Kirie exhaled an involuntary sound and splashed his face with his left hand. Then he clenched and unclenched his right fist repeatedly before reaching toward the sword embedded in the earth. His extended hand trembled visibly.
'Why...?'
The Commander of the Changtian Knights, trembling so badly he'd dropped his sword. Why was he shaking? Fear? Joy? What emotion gripped him so intensely? I couldn't fathom it. Not even a guess came to mind. Yet one truth was undeniable.
'Whatever emotion he harbors for this duel, he will be disappointed when it ends.'
It felt like ice water crashing over my head. He would be disappointed. Because from this moment forward, I would lie with my blade. I might wound him. The thought burned my eyes. Something swelled painfully in my chest. I barely suppressed it.
'I can't. If I fought with genuine intent... I'd be exposed.'
Brought to you by Valir Scans! To support our team and enjoy the latest releases, please read directly on our official site: valirscans.org