Chapter 1
It was an unfamiliar dream.
The scene at dusk was blackened, soaked in blood. Crows tore at the rotting earth with their beaks, while corpses lay sprawled about. Even sound had reached its deathbed; this place was a dried-out cross section of hell.
Amid it all, a man was crying.
Filthy water flowing from the heaps of corpses soiled his hands. Even so, he did not stop. In that black-and-white world without sound, only the sensation of squelching echoed.
Before long, twilight faded, and the colors of the gray world lost their brightness. Only then did the man stand. Though it had felt like no more than a few minutes, he looked as though he had aged several years in that time.
He gazed endlessly up at the murky sky. After doing so for a long while, he staggered toward me.
Shrouded by the darkness that had settled, I could not make out his face. I could only glimpse fragments of emotion burning like dying embers between his eyes.
Resentment, hatred, and regret.
The moment the man passed by my side, standing tall, sound was born in the world for the first time.
“……Delphirem.”
A sound tossed out almost carelessly. Yet to my ears, long accustomed to silence, the voice struck like a thunderbolt.
Startled by the dry mutter, I turned my gaze to the side. There, a pair of golden eyes burned.
“Delphirem is coming.”
He was telling me this as though biting the words out.
I woke from my sleep around then, gasping.
My heart thudded as it forced my eyelids open, like a live fish newly hauled onto a deck.
A sickly sweetness clung to my ragged breath, and even the pillowcase was damp with cold sweat. Waking from a nightmare always left me with such unpleasant sensations.
I let out a long breath, rubbed my face with both hands, and only then did my breathing settle. It had been a vivid dream. Perhaps that was why it felt even more unpleasant.
And “Delphirem”—yes. Delphirem.
I picked through the nightmare’s contents like removing bones from a fish, then let out a small laugh.
It was a name found only in the creation myth of the Church of the Gods. The first traitor of humanity, the source of all sin, and lord of all demons.
Had I listened to Professor Levistrose’s mythology lecture too intently?
With a bitter smile, I shook off the dream’s lingering aftertaste. Then I sat up, avoiding the damp sheets.
Neither cramped nor spacious, the room was dark and quiet. It was a familiar sight by now. It was the dormitory where nobles enrolled at the academy stayed, and I had lived here for three years already.
If my family had wielded greater influence, I might have had a spacious, luxurious room, but unfortunately, I was no more than the second son of a rural viscount’s family.
In other words, I ought to be grateful they paid even my expensive academy tuition. I couldn’t afford to stay in a more costly dormitory.
After sitting there blankly for a while, my head began to throb. I had drunk too much the night before.
It felt as if a heavy rock were pressing down on my brain. A disagreeable thirst surged up, and I felt around for the bedside table.
With a click, light and warmth returned to the room. The magic lamp installed in the dormitory was not particularly expensive, but it was still enough to give me a dim view of my surroundings.
I picked up the canteen I always kept on the table and was about to drink when I paused.
It was a strange sense of incongruity. Nothing had changed, yet I felt that something had. As I tilted my head, I soon found the cause.
The calendar had been turned. There should still have been three days left in the Month of the Lute, yet it was already the Month of the Bow. I must have been exceptionally drunk last night.
Just as I was about to ruminate on last night’s hazy memories, my movements stopped for the second time. An unfamiliar object had abruptly caught in the corner of my vision as I was about to shake my head.
It was a letter. Fine paper, neat handwriting—anyone could tell it was a letter from an educated, cultured noble. Which was precisely why it left me even more bewildered.
Was there anyone who would send me a letter? And even if there was, I had no memory of receiving one.
My hand naturally reached for the letter. The words “Ian Perkus” on the first line assured me that I was indeed the intended recipient.
If so, there was only one way to solve the mystery.
My eyes began rapidly reading down the neat handwriting.
----
To. My beloved Ian Perkus
Well, are there people who dislike spring?
I heard someone say that in the streets of Arancourt not long ago. He was an elderly gentleman dressed in stylish clothes, and his refined speech and restrained manners left a strong impression on me.
Looking back, might he have been someone who worked for a prestigious noble family?
He said that he had become a wanderer with nowhere to go last winter, but his gentle smile was as warm as spring sunshine. Perhaps it was because winter was over.
At times like that, I think of what we accomplished: saving the world and becoming heroes.
I once thought it was a foolish, empty tale fit only for the storybooks I read as a child, but even now, the fact that our names have been engraved on a page of that book still feels unreal.
It’s all thanks to you. Or perhaps, as you say, thanks to all of us.
I’ve grown fairly accustomed to life in Arancourt as well. I worried about how things would turn out when we crossed the vast desert, where nothing but sand stretched endlessly, but this place is inhabited by people too, after all.
The sunlight is warm, and the sea gleams with a clear blue light. Wasn’t there an old saying that ‘if you look through a fairy’s eyes, you can see hidden treasure’? It is exactly as they say.
And writing letters to you has also become an important part of my daily routine.
At first, I was a little puzzled when you urged me to send a letter at least once a month. Then again, you are Ian, aren’t you? You, who always did nothing but smile silently. Still, perhaps the thought of sending your beloved away made you lonely; the possibility made my heart flutter a little.
But, as always, it seems excitement is mine alone. I send a letter every other day, while replies come only once a week.
Of course, I understand that you may be busy with matters in the capital. I am not so lacking in understanding that I cannot grasp how heavy a burden you bear. I watched it all from the place closest to you—the pain, the sorrow, and even the suffering.
Failing to support my lover during such a busy and difficult time is remiss of me as a fiancée. I am deeply reflecting on that.
Yet protecting Arancourt—a strategic stronghold guarding the western coast of the continent and one of the Empire’s three great trade ports—is also a duty I must bear as a noble of the Empire.
Ian, you know that too, don’t you? The aftermath of last winter has not yet completely faded.
Even so, I always make time to send you letters. I hope you can understand my longing, if only a little.
I especially miss you tonight, Ian. The Month of the Bow has arrived before I knew it, and the stars are scattered across the sky, dancing in formation just as they did that night.
Our bond also deepened during the Hunting Festival held in the Month of the Bow. For someone who had always suffered from an inferiority complex, the memories of that day still remain thrilling.
Come to think of it, that year’s Hunting Festival was unusually full of incidents. It began when Emma of the Alchemy Department went out to gather materials and was found unconscious after being attacked by an unidentified magical beast. I should have noticed then.
It was the same when magical beasts ambushed us in a pack during practical swordsmanship training. What would have happened if we hadn’t reacted quickly? And yet no one paid any attention.
At the time, we thought the magical beasts’ proliferation had been deliberately left unchecked because the forest was going to be the Hunting Festival’s stage. It was a complacent judgment typical of students. I heard the Faculty Office was in an uproar back then.
No matter how I think about it, I believe Rector Delemore made a mistake by going ahead with that year’s Hunting Festival.
But a part of me still feels grateful to Rector Delemore. After all, that day created the opportunity for our relationship to grow even closer.
And, as an added bonus, we won the Hunting Festival for the first time. I wondered how we would fare when we faced that monster, but thanks to you, we made it out safely.
Come to think of it, I still wonder. How did you know that the monster’s weakness was its horn?
Whenever I ask, you only give me an enigmatic smile and say, “It’s just one of those things,” so even after seven years, it remains an unsolved mystery.
There was another sudden attack even after we defeated the monster, but somehow, we were the ones who claimed its head. And now, I even find myself grateful for the attack that day.
Because it was the first time I had ever been able to win. Even if I had you and our other friends to thank, the memory of that day remains a turning point in my life.
And since I grew even more interested in you after that day, those events became precious to me in more ways than one. Before then, I had never even imagined that you and I would become lovers.
The moon is already waning. I should end this letter here. It was a pleasant night, getting to look back on my precious memories with you.
The barren winter has passed, and yearning spring has arrived. The last snow of winter melted away long ago, yet my heart, still filled with thoughts of you, refuses to melt even beneath the spring sun.
Even tonight, I count the days until I can see you again, Ian.
No—Ian, oppa.
I’ll pray that I can meet you, oppa, even in my dreams.
P.S. 1: I recently heard that the Holy Kingdom’s she-cat has visited the capital. I say this out of concern, but even if that she-cat makes advances toward you, I trust that you won’t betray your bond with me. For your reference, since being assigned to Arancourt, I haven’t even dined alone with a man. That’s all.
From. Sepia, thinking of you tonight as well.
On the fifth day of the Month of the Bow, Imperial Year 571.
----
After reading the letter over the course of several minutes, I fell silent for a moment.
It was a long letter. Not a single expression was out of place in its vocabulary or etiquette, and the neat handwriting made it clear that considerable care had gone into writing it.
However, there was only one possible reaction from me, the recipient of that carefully written letter.
“……What nonsense?”
As though dumbfounded, I swallowed a hollow laugh and crumpled the letter tightly in my fist. It was nothing but incomprehensible from beginning to end.
The Hunting Festival? It was the academy’s biggest event, held in the Month of the Bow. However, it took place at the end of the month, and so far, only the plans had been announced. How could I possibly know what would happen that day?
The name ‘Sepia’ was strange too. It sounded as though the writer meant a ‘sepia flower,’ but unfortunately, there was no one around me with that name or nickname.
More than anything, what bothered me most about the letter was the date written on its final line.
My gaze turned once more to the calendar on the table. Against a background bearing a translucent bow, the number for the current year was written.
Imperial Year 564.
That meant this letter had flown here from seven years in the future. It was absurd.
Thinking that, I was about to finish crumpling the letter when something suddenly caught my eye, making me stiffen.
It was the unread back of the letter. Scrawled there in handwriting that was unmistakably different was a single phrase.
‘If we fail to protect the future, the world will perish.’
The words were steeped in tightly suppressed regret and resentment, and I could do nothing but stare blankly at them for a moment.
A scene from the nightmare flashed briefly through my mind—the person who had stared at me with blazing golden eyes.
But it was only a moment, nothing more. I soon came to my senses and finished crumpling the letter. Then I tossed it into the trash can a short distance from the bed.
With a soft thud, the ball of paper that had once been a letter landed in the trash can.
After confirming that, I gulped down the water remaining in my canteen and went back to bed. Without knowing a thing.
From the moment I received that letter, my life had already changed beyond all possibility of turning back.