Chapter 73 - Fear - 3

Bera’s face filled with bewilderment.

Why did you do that?

For a moment, the reproach left him standing speechless. Then, deciding that Renée must not yet understand what had happened, he began to explain.

The king of the third kingdom had performed dangerous sorcery and was targeting Dovan. And not only Dovan—he was after the kings of the other four kingdoms as well. Knowing that, Bera could not retreat. Had he done so, the people in the village below the mountains would have been the first victims.

He laid it all out, point by point, trying to persuade her.

“... So I went alone, believing that going would be for everyone else’s sake—”

“That!”

Renée’s shout cut him short.

Bera’s eyes widened. Her words, her expression, the strength of her grip on his clothes—the emotion in all of them was unmistakably anger.

With tears streaming down her face, Renée drew ragged, sobbing breaths and spoke again.

“Why does any of that matter?”

Heat rushed to her head.

Bera’s excuses were so utterly absurd that they made her blood boil.

“You got hurt. You were in danger. You could have died...”

Renée bit down hard on her lip, overcome by the sorrow welling up as she spoke.

“... You could have died.”

She could have been left all alone.

Watching Renée pour out her feelings, Bera floundered helplessly before adding,

“... I am sorry. But I am standing here perfectly well. You have no reason to worry, Saintess—”

“What about next time?”

“... Pardon?”

“If you do this again, can you guarantee you’ll be all right then, too?”

Bera flinched.

Next time.

If another enemy like Gartea appeared, would he be able to return unharmed?

His battle with Gartea flashed through his mind. It was an opponent he could not defeat. A legion commander of the Demon King, no less. With his present strength, he could not have beaten it by ordinary means, which was why he had drawn upon power with his soul as collateral.

Fortunately, he had returned safely and awakened, but he could not promise he would be safe next time.

Even as Bera hesitated, Renée continued.

“No, you weren’t even all right. You came back half dead. If Sir Norn hadn’t been there, if he hadn’t found you, if he’d brought you back even a little later, you would have died. And after all that, you want to say you came back perfectly well? How can you even say that?”

Renée still remembered it vividly: the state Bera had been in when Norn carried him back three days ago, how utterly wretched he had been in that moment.

“Do you...”

The memory set her emotions ablaze. As though firewood had been piled onto a roaring fire, they began to rage out of control.

“Do you know how worried I was? You didn’t wake up for three whole days. No matter how much divine energy I used, even after I healed your wounds and treated all your internal injuries, you wouldn’t wake up. I thought something was terribly wrong with you... I thought you would never open your eyes again...”

Renée’s lips trembled. Her feelings had grown too intense for her to speak any further, and her face was crumpled with tears.

Only then did Bera realize how grave his condition had been. He also realized that he had awakened thanks to Renée, who had nursed him for three days straight.

“My apologies—”

“No.”

As Bera offered yet another apology, Renée banished all memory of how, before he woke, she had wanted to hear even those words.

“Never do this again. Don’t go off on your own. Don’t go anywhere dangerous. If you have to go, you must take me with you.”

Renée never wanted to experience such fear again. She never wanted to tremble with the dread of losing Bera again.

Her head burning, she kept speaking without even knowing what she was saying.

“No. Don’t go anywhere. Just stay beside me. All day long—today, tomorrow, the day after that—just stay with me forever. Answer when I call, take my hand when I reach for you, just...!”

At some point, her rising emotions turned her words into shouts.

Breathing hard, Renée paused briefly to steady herself, then finished.

“... Just stay beside me. Please...”

Her head dropped against Bera’s chest. Her whole body quivered.

Feeling his chest grow wet and her trembling against him, Bera could only stare blankly, unable to say a word.

He needed to stop her tears, to calm her down, but he did not know how. Bera had killed people who were crying, but he had never comforted one. For a long while, he stood there dazed, only his fingertips twitching.

In the end, all he managed was to lay a hand on her cheek and stroke its tear-soaked surface.

It was a clumsy movement. Rough, without a trace of gentleness.

“... I am sorry.”

His words, too, were no different from those he always offered.

“I did not think things through.”

Words of comfort were terribly difficult for Bera. This was the first time in his life that he had wiped away someone’s tears.

So, with his face tightly furrowed, he kept forming words only to swallow them, occasionally offering another apology.

“I will do as you ask, Saintess.”

Bera reproached himself. In his determination to do what was right, he had neglected the feelings of those he was supposed to protect.

He had considered the danger to Renée, yet never imagined how deeply his own injuries would hurt her. The realization filled him with sorrow.

He felt crushed inside.

The weight of another person’s concern was so heavy, the knowledge that someone might suffer if anything happened to him so painfully real, that he felt his throat tighten.

It was the weight of living for others. The weight of acting for the people behind him.

And it was a weight Bera had never felt before.

In that moment, Bera realized that protecting people did not simply mean keeping their bodies unharmed. It meant caring for their hearts as well.

* * *

Overwrought after several days without proper sleep, Renée cried for a long time before falling asleep as though she had collapsed.

She did not wake again until the following morning.

The very first thing she did upon waking was kick her blanket clear off.

“Aaaargh!”

Now properly rested and clearheaded, she had recalled the events of the previous day.

The things she had said made her whole body squirm.

[“Don’t go anywhere.”]

She kicked hard!

[“Just stay beside me.”]

Another kick!

[“Just stay with me forever.”]

Yet another kick!

Not a single one of those words could be brushed aside.

Renée thought,

‘Th-this is practically...!’

A confession.

“Eeeeeek...”

She was embarrassed. Mortified. She wanted to die.

Lying facedown on the bed, Renée repeatedly buried her head in the pillow, letting out shrill screams.

Why had she done that?

As that thought crossed her mind—

‘... No!’

Renée decided to look on the bright side.

Perhaps this was an opportunity. Yes, wasn’t this the sort of incident she had been hoping for? Of course, she never wanted to see Bera go off alone and return half dead again! She never wanted to endure anything like that again! But since everything had ended safely, couldn’t she view it as an opportunity?

Maybe! Maybe, maybe, maybe this would make Bera start seeing her differently!

Two people brought closer by a dramatic incident. And in the end, their feelings would reach each other!

... While entertaining such thoughts, Renée suddenly recalled what she had done the day before and flinched.

She had collapsed onto Bera’s chest, crawled across the floor, rushed straight toward his voice the moment she heard it, wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her head against him, and then...

‘B-Bera...’

He had stroked her cheek.

Renée’s face flushed scarlet.

Her hand drifted to her cheek of its own accord, brushing the place he had touched.

Thump. Thump. Her heart began to beat faster.

And as she sat there smiling to herself, the corners of her mouth creeping upward...

[“Just stay beside me. Please...”]

She remembered her own words again and slammed her head into the pillow with a thud!

Her scream emerged crushed and muffled by the pillow.

“Gyaaaaargh!”

Right beside the bed, Aisha, who had come to wake Renée, watched the spectacle with her lips firmly shut.

She thought it was a great relief that Renée had recovered her spirits.

* * *

At Dovan’s smithy, Dovan sat before the anvil, looking at Bera.

The sight of him fully recovered and brimming with health brought an involuntary smile to his face. It felt as though all the anguish of the past few days had lifted in an instant.

Even so, there was something he felt he had to tell Bera.

“I’m sorry.”

He could not shake the feeling that he had egged Bera on.

“I fear the words I spoke in ignorance spurred you to act. I wish to apologize.”

Bera studied his expression for a moment, then shook his head.

“You have absolutely nothing to apologize for. Rather, I would like to thank you.”

He bowed his head.

“Thank you. You helped me gain an understanding.”

It had not been perfect. Foolish and inadequate as he was, he had chosen to face Gartea alone. That choice had left people worrying about him.

But even so, something had changed.

Bera was now someone capable of considering what he could do. He understood a little more of what it meant to protect others. He had gained confidence that he could become a better person.

He would not repeat the same mistake. If something like this happened again, he would not wrestle with it alone.

Keeping his head bowed low, Bera reaffirmed that resolve, then offered an apology.

“... And I am sorry.”

“For what?”

“The sword...”

He was apologizing for breaking the demonic sword he had taken to face Gartea.

“... It broke.”

Dovan gave a bemused chuckle at Bera coming all this way to apologize, then shook his head.

“What does a mere lump of metal matter? Seeing you up and about again is reassurance enough for me.”

Seeing that Bera still had his head bowed, Dovan added,

“Raise your head. I’m the one who wishes to thank you.”

His lips moved, and a smile rose to his face. It could only be called a smile of relief.

Bera raised his head and tilted it in puzzlement at that expression. Dovan continued with a hearty chuckle.

“It was a sword I could never finish. I know that better than anyone. I had no intent I wished to put into it. I likely could have worked on it my whole life and never completed it.”

In the end, what had kept him clinging to that sword was lingering attachment.

Only after learning it had broken had the relief he felt made him realize that.

“Thank you for freeing me of that attachment.”

Dovan was grateful to Bera for removing that lingering attachment from before his eyes—and, beyond that, for helping him discover the intent he truly wished to embody, rather than mere attachment.

“Sir, would you wait a few days?”

“... For what?”

Dovan looked toward the Proden resting on the anvil.

“I believe I can finish it.”

He now knew the intent he truly wished to embody. He felt he could fulfill his long-cherished ambition.

Looking at the cold Proden blade, Dovan smiled faintly.

“I’ll give you the finest sword I’ve ever made.”

His words held a conviction untouched by even the slightest hesitation.