Chapter 18
A bright morning dawned.
Enya checked her outfit in front of the mirror.
She wore a frilly sky-blue dress with a cute little apron covering the front.
There was still time before she had to leave.
She gazed quietly at herself, now a proper tavern waitress.
The exposed parts of her thighs still bothered her, and she tugged at her dress as if trying to make it longer.
Unless the fabric tore, though, it didn't look like anything would cover them.
The Garden Festival was not over yet.
Since she had agreed to fill in as a waitress during the festival, she had to wear this short outfit today, too.
The morning waitress had few customers to serve, but plenty of odd jobs to do, like refilling the lanterns with oil and cleaning up after breakfast.
Behind the gleaming blonde hair in the mirror, bright red eyes gazed back at her.
She called to the girl.
“Enya.”
Who could imagine that the girl clutching her short hem in embarrassment
“Enyaril Benoa.”
was the Hero of Salvation?
Last night, she had used the hero's power.
She had awakened the holy sword, White Scorch, and wielded the sun god's power to counter the moon goddess.
Unless there was another holy relic on par with the holy sword somewhere in the world, she was the only human capable of such a feat.
She had used that power for one werewolf girl.
No—for a precious friend, trapped in that curse and slowly falling apart.
She'd felt so sorry for Tarmin for trying to worship her rather than stand by her side as an equal that she'd hit him and yelled at him.
But even Enya realized the weight of what she had done once morning came.
Depending on where and how she used it, that power might save hundreds of people.
For instance, if she unleashed that divine power before the demons of the grasslands that still rampaged.
If she drove back disease, even temporarily, in a plague-ridden region in the name of the sun god.
How many more lives could she save?
So many possibilities had been squandered for the sake of one hunter who couldn't be ruthless.
Just like the witch who had wasted a great spell for the sake of one girl.
“I think I understand why you called me an idiot.”
She sighed and muttered to herself.
Now she understood what her fellow witch, who despised mages, had meant.
She thought that even if the witch came and insulted her, she wouldn't have any grounds to complain.
A world where Taal had lost his smile was meaningless, even if she saved thousands of people.
It wasn't a very heroic thought.
Enya finished getting dressed and left the house.
**
The morning was bitterly cold.
The festival was in full swing, and the season was now moving toward the depths of winter.
For the people of Quaalid, the festival drawing to a close was also a reminder to hurry with their preparations for winter.
Those who had been swept up in the romance of the Garden Festival would be caught off guard by the sudden cold snap and rush to prepare for winter, paying a premium for everything.
“B-Brr. It's cold.”
When she gasped at the chill, her breath came out in a hot cloud.
The cold wind brushed against her thighs beneath her clothes, and her whole body drew in on itself.
Feeling her body tremble, she was reminded once again how frail she had become.
In front of the full-length mirror, she'd only worried about whether she looked bad. She hadn't even thought about staying warm.
The things that defined a hero's outfit were style and defense, more or less. Warmth had never been a consideration.
She considered going home to put on more clothes, but she hadn't prepared a coat or anything like one.
She could add another thin layer, but she didn't think it would look very good.
Was caring about her appearance a habit from her days as a hero, or...
Shivering violently, she decided she might as well hurry to the tavern.
There was a stove in the tavern, along with a huge brazier in the center for roasting whole animals.
The staff might be a little surprised to see her dressed so lightly, but once the sun climbed overhead and the temperature rose, it wouldn't be a problem.
As she hurried along, she thought of Tarmin.
Her friend had endured a terrible ordeal yesterday.
With his father gone, he had been faced with the fate of killing a child who was practically his little sister with his own hands.
Taal of the hero's party had fallen apart and nearly become a hunter of the Alchin clan.
Of course, they'd resolved things, and she'd made sure he got home safely.
He should be fine, unless Taal suddenly started banging his head against a wall or something.
It was early morning, so she might disturb his sleep.
But wasn't she a hero?
Checking on someone she'd saved was surely her duty.
It absolutely wasn't because she wanted to see Taal's face.
Thinking that, she headed for Taal's house.
She passed the tanning rack and the rope-making bench, then knocked on the door.
“Taal, are you up?”
When she called out while knocking, she heard movement inside.
It sounded far too brisk and lively for so early in the morning.
Puzzled, Enya opened the door.
It wasn't locked.
Inside the hunter's cabin were Sigona and Tarmin.
“Good morning.”
Sigona was the first to greet her.
“Sigona?”
Why are you here?
Unlike the flustered Enya, Sigona looked happy.
“Why are you dressed so lightly?”
Sigona got up, came over, and clasped Enya's cold hands tightly.
She even guided her to a seat.
So she really was a waitress.
Even as she panicked, Enya found herself thinking that.
“Did I surprise you? I'm sorry. My heart was pounding so hard, I couldn't stand it.”
Sigona's face was flushed as she sat down.
“To think we can talk without bars between us now. I'm so, so excited.”
“...So you came over as soon as the sun came up. Honestly.”
Tarmin rubbed his hollow-looking eyes, exhausted.
The quiet, composed waitress she'd always known didn't seem to be all there was to Sigona.
The bewitching look in her eyes, once touched by sorrow, had given way to a youthful liveliness and joy.
The werewolf girl smiled brightly.
**
The holy sword blazed with light.
At the astonishing brightness, Tarmin turned around without thinking, even though he was facing a werewolf.
He regretted it immediately.
‘A light this bright could blind me.’
The thought made him hurriedly shut his eyes and raise his arms awkwardly, but he had already taken a good look at the light head-on.
His heart lurched, but Tarmin's eyes were fine.
When he slowly opened them again, Enya stood before him, holding a pure-white sword.
She wore a neat long skirt and shirt like the other young women in the city, but with the shining sword in her hand, she was unmistakably a hero.
The hero held the sun god's holy radiance in her hands and spoke to the werewolf.
“Sigona. A poor girl who lost her parents to a hunter.”
When Tarmin looked ahead, there was Sigona.
As though Elinol's curse had been washed away, she stood there completely naked.
Sigona was at a loss, covering her body.
She stammered in bewilderment.
“H-How?”
“Answer me. Do you want to hurt Tarmin?”
“N-No!”
Sigona answered hastily.
Looking at Enya, who seemed like an emissary of light, she knew.
Memories rose within her at the same time—the wondrous adventures Tarmin had told her about from beyond the bars.
She steeled herself and spoke to the hero again.
“No. Please, just kill me instead.”
“That's what she says, Taal. Interested?”
Tarmin turned to Enya with an exhausted expression.
“Hey, you idiot. You weren't seriously making that joke right now, were you? Seriously, you...”
“Ahaha, sorry.”
Enya apologized with a soft smile.
She wanted to hear Taal's reproach, not be called ‘Hero.’
She had confirmed that neither of them wanted to hurt the other.
“Then I'll put an end to a curse neither of them wants.”
A hero was someone who could touch every blessing in exchange for enduring trials.
Elinol's curse, inadvertently drawn in by the magic of the Garden Festival.
If that had once been a blessing.
She raised the holy sword high.
**
“I don't like flowers.”
Sigona stated it emphatically.
“Do the men who come to the tavern and keep offering flowers not know there are things more important than flowers?”
“...I think they probably do.”
It seemed Sigona's charms had already brought many men to tears.
She began telling her story, stumbling over the words at first.
Stories about her favorite flowers and the way she smiled.
Lighthearted stories she had never shared from behind the bars.
The tavern family, who looked after her because she was so young.
She told him about herself, the parts she'd been forced to suppress because her fate as prey stood in the way.
He couldn't help smiling at the sight of a girl wearing an expression that suited her age.
Tarmin had no choice but to stammer out a few responses.
Still, he couldn't help feeling miserable as he listened to her chatter nonstop for over an hour.
“Lately, I've been trying to make herbal tea! What kind of tea do you like, big brother?”
“Huh? Well... There's black tea in the kitchen.”
“Oh! Then shall we keep talking over tea? Can I use the kitchen?”
“Sure...”
Sigona disappeared into the kitchen, and Tarmin slumped face-first onto the table, looking pale.
You shouldn't underestimate a young girl's chatter.
He saw Enya getting up from her seat.
“I'm leaving.”
“Huh? Wait, Enya? Now that Sigona's back, you don't have to work anymore, do you?”
“She wants to be by your side so much. Let her. I'll help out for another day.”
“Sure, if that's what you want. I'm grateful. I'll tell Sigona, too.”
“Yeah.”
Enya quietly opened the door and left.
Usually, Enya was the one who said silly things, but perhaps it was because it was so early that she was quiet.
Tarmin gladly closed his eyes, grateful for the peace.
What would Sigona talk about next?
She was making a fuss, but it wasn't as if she had enough stories to talk for days.
...Probably.
Feeling a little guilty as he half-listened to Sigona's stories, Tarmin was worrying about something else.
He was truly grateful she'd lifted the curse, but he couldn't think of a suitable way to thank her.
He couldn't give her money or valuables.
If he sold even the sword he'd pulled out yesterday, couldn't he buy dozens of houses with it?
As he thought that, he remembered something Renzo had said.
Had she said she wanted to go to the festival?
He didn't want to bring it up and get teased for no reason.
When he opened his eyes vacantly, he saw a ring on the table.
It was the silver ring he'd given Enya once.
**
As she brewed the tea, Sigona thought of what to talk about next.
Her father had told her that getting attached would only make things painful, so she'd kept herself in check.
She'd worried that Tarmin might get badly hurt someday.
So for years, she'd spent most of her time listening to stories about the hero.
She pictured her big brother's face as he struggled to process all these unfamiliar stories, and smiled to herself.
Come to think of it, it was astonishing.
The girl she'd assumed was nothing more than his childhood friend had actually been the hero.
Thanks to her, her hunter's story could come to an end without him getting hurt.
As she prepared three cups of tea, something crossed her mind.
The adventures Tarmin had excitedly told her about.
One of them was the hero's story.
There were things in it that didn't match Enya.
As she picked up the tray, Sigona wondered.
Had the hero been a woman?
**
Enya left the hunter's cabin.
As she walked down the morning streets, slowly stretching awake, she thought.
Just as she'd expected, she was a pure-hearted, kind girl.
Thoughtful, and incapable of bad intentions.
Nothing like that filthy thing who used to be a man.
Now that she'd cleared away his darkness, surely she'd repaid her debt.
At last, they could truly be equals.
As long as she didn't let him catch her looking sick again, she could still manage to act like a normal neighbor.
As she thought that, her left arm began to tremble.
"Huh?"
She touched it in confusion, but there was no sign it would settle down. The trembling only grew worse.
There had only been one thing she'd overdone yesterday.
The backlash from using the holy sword.
There was no such thing as power without a price. Miracles came at a cost.
Evil was so powerful.
There were no happy endings for everyone. But the meaning of everyone could be relative. As long as a few people were made to exit properly. For example, a hero broken after using her power.
This was bad.
She had to go to work, but the trembling wouldn't stop.
At this rate, she wouldn't be able to carry food, let alone wash dishes properly.
Her head was trembling.
Taal.
“Enya?”
The trembling stopped in an instant.
When she turned around, Taal was there.
He spoke as casually as ever.
“Taal? What about Sigona?”
“Wait a second.”
With that, Tarmin opened his hand.
“You left this behind.”
There was a silver ring.
**
Tarmin saw the ring lying alone on the broad table, and the anxiety surging inside him made him get to his feet.
He couldn't explain why. He knew she had to go to work at the tavern, but somehow it felt as though she wouldn't come back.
It felt as if she would simply disappear, leaving only the ring behind.
He threw on his coat and went outside. Enya was still nearby, not having gone far from the house.
“You left this behind.”
Enya stared at the ring for a long time before she spoke.
“I left it there on purpose.”
“Huh? Why?”
“Because it was yours to begin with.”
That was true.
But if that was the only reason, why hadn't she given it back sooner?
Enya's cold expression felt unfamiliar.
For some reason, it was hard to ask.
But he didn't want her to take the ring back like this, either.
He thought for a moment and came up with an answer.
“Enya. I'm grateful you saved me this time, but I don't have anything else to give you. Would you accept this ring as a token of my thanks?”
He said it cheerfully, but she didn't answer.
As she stared at him, he looked over her clothes, intending to slip the ring into one of her pockets.
But perhaps because she was wearing women's clothes, there wasn't a single place that could be called a pocket.
How did women manage without pockets?
And why did they dress so lightly in this cold?
Looking at Enya's clothes in dismay, he decided to just put the ring in her hand.
When he took her arm, Enya startled and tried to pull away.
Seeing that, he knew she wouldn't accept it if he simply placed it in her palm.
So he took her hand.
He took Enya's left hand and slipped the ring onto her finger.
**
Enya gazed quietly at the silver ring on the ring finger of her left hand.
Taal seemed unwilling to let her part with it.
“Why are you giving me this?”
“I don't know. I don't know, but you need this right now. It's a hunch.”
A hunch? That was ridiculous.
Taal had clearly misunderstood something.
Her ears felt so hot they might catch fire.
Did this hunter know what it meant to put a ring on someone's finger?
Taal probably didn't, since he never read a book.
When he looked for books, it was because he needed something to use as a pillow.
Her body began to tremble.
But this wasn't the trembling caused by the holy sword's backlash. It was a pleasant sort of trembling.
“Enya, are you cold?”
Seeing her like that, Tarmin even took off his coat and draped it around her.
It was a thick hunter's coat, covered in all sorts of buckles and pockets.
It was warm, perhaps because it still held his body heat.
The smell of well-worn leather.
The smell of rust picked up while pushing through the forest.
The smell of his sweat.
“Come back later and return it.”
At those words, she vaguely realized what he'd been worried about.
She should have told him that she wasn't going anywhere and that he didn't need to give her something like this. But now Tarmin was shivering because he'd taken off his coat.
If she said that, she might burst out laughing.
And that might hurt his pride.
“...Yeah.”
She held back her smile at the sight of him looking like a little puppy and barely managed to answer.
Only after sending him back did she look at the ring and smile.
Whether Taal wanted her to or not, Enya would be right next door to him.
As long as time allowed it to be so, anyway.
Perhaps because of the ring, her arm had stopped trembling.