Chapter 24
We have won!
In this unjust, oppressive world, the brave rose up in defiant fury and at last drove out the mightiest evil.
The cursed demi-humans and monsters retreated underground.
Knights and serfs, merchants and artisans poured into the streets, cheering.
The world's ruler has been decided.
It is the age of humanity.
Would you like to hear the cheers?
Long live the Empire!
May the light of Chaik shine forever!
Pardon?
Ah, you mean the Hero?
**
Tarmin lay sprawled across his bed.
He'd spent the night tossing and turning, staring blankly into space with hollow eyes.
The sun was already up, and the room was bright, while the fireplace had long since gone cold.
Feeling the chill in the room seep into his body, he had no choice but to sit up.
His mind was filled with memories of yesterday, by the lake.
The lakeshore, bathed in warm sunlight like spring.
The two of them, seated in the grass, touched lips, then pulled apart.
Enya had kissed him.
She'd accepted his mistakes and inexperience.
The fact that she'd kissed him first meant—
“Ugh!”
He groaned and sprang to his feet.
If he kept agonizing over it, he might still be doing this when the sun went down.
After getting ready, he left the house and headed next door.
If he went to the tavern like this, that sly mercenary would only tease him.
So he figured he'd meet her first and dispel the awkwardness before then.
They lived next door; there was no reason he had to go all the way to the tavern just to exchange morning greetings.
And while he was at it, he could clear up what happened yesterday.
For two days, he'd gone straight to the tavern, afraid of running into her, but now that he knew she didn't hate him, there was no need to run away.
He squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.
“Enya?”
There was no answer.
He wondered if she'd already gone out, even though the sun had only just come up.
Or maybe she hadn't woken up yet.
He waited and knocked a few more times, but there was still no answer.
He was about to give up and head to the tavern when an uneasy thought crossed his mind.
Enya's incurable illness, and the medicine the witch had given her.
Had she made it home safely yesterday?
He shook his head.
When he'd returned from checking the hunting grounds, he'd seen her house glowing with firelight.
But still, just in case.
Tarmin found the key to Enya's house and unlocked the door.
He'd been given the key years ago.
She might have gone out and left him waiting, but he didn't want to sit at the tavern with this nagging feeling.
They were friends, after all.
Though his friend had become a woman, surely it was fine to check whether she'd overslept?
He opened the door, revealing a clean interior.
He spotted the table she'd taken from his house.
The old-paper smell of the bookshelf.
The medicinal scent wafting from the kitchen.
He walked toward the bedroom.
“Enya?”
Enya was lying straight on the bed, asleep.
He watched her chest rise and fall with her calm breathing.
“Phew.”
He let out a sigh of relief.
If Enya found out what he'd been thinking in that brief moment, he'd bang his head against the wall and kill himself.
She'd simply been sleeping in, and there'd been no reason to worry at all.
She was sleeping so soundly that she hadn't stirred even when he'd unlocked the door and come all the way into her bedroom.
Unlike his cheap little cabin, Enya's bedroom was warm.
The fireplace was out, yet the air in the room was warm; perhaps it was some kind of magical effect.
With the worry gone from his heart, annoyance sprouted in its place.
He approached the head of the bed and carefully knelt down.
“Enya, are you asleep?”
The sweet scent of the medicine Enya took.
Her long eyelashes, gently closed.
A lovely, straight nose.
Beneath it, small, soft lips of a pale red hue.
He'd come all this way worried about her, and she was sleeping without a care in the world.
It had been a pointless worry, but still.
Even with him close enough to touch her if he reached out, she showed no sign of waking.
Had she forgotten how she'd slept lightly on watch during their pilgrimage, guarding against attacks?
If she was this defenseless, she couldn't complain if someone kissed her, could she?
He slowly brought his face closer.
**
Enya was not asleep at all.
She breathed out very slowly.
“Enya, are you asleep?”
Tarmin's breath brushed her ear.
She barely stopped herself from kicking off the blanket.
Gripping the bedsheet, she desperately pretended to sleep.
“Hoo… hoo.”
She regulated her breathing and let it out so he wouldn't notice.
She'd been startled when the door opened, but recognized the familiar footsteps.
Tarmin.
Yesterday, Enya had kissed Tarmin.
Because she thought the way he looked afraid she'd hate him was as cute as a puppy.
Remembering that, she couldn't bring herself to greet him as usual.
So she closed her eyes.
She planned to wait and see, then suddenly sit up and startle him.
She'd hide her embarrassment behind some teasing and brush the whole thing off.
But Tarmin was more serious than she'd expected, and she missed her chance.
His hurried footsteps and tense voice.
The moment he came close to the head of the bed was her last chance.
She should have gotten up, but curiosity suddenly got the better of her.
What if she kept pretending to sleep?
Tarmin.
He seemed timid and slow on the uptake, yet somehow he always knew what she wanted and acted on it.
When he did act, he was bold, but without alcohol to lean on, he couldn't even ask a simple question.
What would the utterly unpredictable Tarmin do if he saw her defenseless like this?
Would he shake her awake with a gentle touch?
Or, like the princes in fairy tales, would he follow tradition and wake a sleeping maiden?
Or could it be—surely not—he'd take advantage of her while she slept and do all sorts of things?
Her heart thumped wildly.
She suppressed her quickening breath and waited for his next move.
Tarmin's breathing came even closer.
“Hoo… huuuuh.”
**
Tarmin stopped just before their lips touched.
He was overcome by an intense sense of shame and shuddered.
He was drowning in self-loathing.
‘Am I… completely finished as a man?’
Even the memory of his father, who was always berating him for not being manly enough, couldn't help him.
The father in his head was gleefully mocking him.
Enya had worked up the courage to kiss him…
And hadn't she specifically called him impotent?
His masculinity was in peril.
He'd used his drunkenness as an excuse to violate her lips, and now he was trying to steal a kiss while she slept.
He'd come in claiming he was worried about the person who lived here, and turned into a thief.
He hadn't imagined he'd end up sneaking around when he'd left his own house.
This wasn't right.
Just as he was thinking that,
“Hah. Haaah.”
He heard ragged breathing.
Startled, he looked at Enya, who was in the same position as before.
She was still lying straight beneath the blanket, eyes closed.
“Huuuh.”
But she couldn't suppress her quickened breathing.
Looking closer, he saw her long eyelashes trembling slightly.
Her cheeks were flushed red.
Those weren't signs you'd see in someone who was asleep.
Feeling pathetic, he asked Enya,
“Are you asleep?”
This time, he didn't miss the twitch of her eyelid.
The passionate mood he'd built over the last few minutes went up in smoke.
He raised his bowed head.
He said with certainty,
“You're not asleep, are you?”
Twitch.
“You're not asleep.”
“Mm, mmm.”
Enya stubbornly kept pretending to sleep.
Her effort to hide her face by turning her head, as if she were sleep-talking, was laughable.
Since she'd failed to fool him, she seemed to have decided to just insist on the lie.
He'd been worrying about his manhood in front of this girl?
“Hmmm, you little brat. Aren't you getting up?”
…”
He'd only come to check on Enya because he was worried, but somehow they'd wound up in something like a battle of wills.
Enya pressed her head firmly against the pillow and squeezed her eyes shut.
He nearly flicked her forehead, but paused when he guessed what she was hoping for.
“Don't tell me you want me to kiss you?”
“Huuuh….”
“Hey!”
Realizing that ‘Huuuh’ meant yes, he was so annoyed he could barely stand it.
She was blatantly trying to pull the wool over his eyes.
Tarmin felt trapped in a no-win situation.
If he didn't kiss her now, she'd obviously tease him for being impotent for a while.
But it felt ridiculous to kiss her in this absurd situation, too.
He narrowed his eyes and glared at Enya, then stood up.
“So that's how you want to play it?”
Leaving Enya twitching on the bed, Tarmin walked out of the bedroom.
He came back holding something that had been on the bookshelf.
It was a quill made from a goose feather.
Tarmin held it upside down.
He remembered that Enya's changed body was extremely ticklish.
He lightly touched the feather end of the quill to her neck.
“Eek!?”
When the long, dense feathers brushed her neck, Enya burst out laughing, then covered her mouth.
Forgetting all about pretending to sleep, Enya stared at Tarmin in surprise.
Even so, it was impressive that she hadn't fallen off the pillow.
He waved the quill lightly and said,
“You'd better get up.”
“Y-You're using a tool? That's cheating!”
“That's strange. Enya isn't getting up, but I'm hearing things.”
Just bringing the feather close again made Enya leap.
“Eek! I'll get up. I will, so stop.”
He reached out and firmly pressed down on Enya's forehead as she tried to sit up.
He smiled at Enya, who looked up at him in a panic from where she lay.
“You're not up yet, are you?”
“N-No, I was trying to get up, but you—Ahahaha!”
“Who was the one pretending to sleep so badly, huh? You?”
“I-I was wrong, stop, ah-hieek!”
Five minutes later, Enya was finally released after promising never to mess with him again, addressing him as “Sir Tarmin,” and even shedding tears.
Even while she staggered toward the chest in the corner of the room, Tarmin was still drunk on victory.
The moment he saw the holy sword spring out of the chest, Tarmin bolted.
**
When he stepped outside, he saw a man loitering in front of Tarmin's house.
The man glanced around, then spotted Tarmin and approached with a bright smile.
He looked young, but wore mismatched pieces of old armor like a seasoned adventurer, with a black scarf around his neck.
“Who are you?”
“Are you Mr. Tarmin?”
"That's me?"
Answering a question with a question, huh?
Tarmin frowned, and the man gave an easygoing smile as he said,
“Sorry. Though you're her friend, I can't answer most of your questions. I'm only here to deliver a reply.”
A reply?
Tarmin's eyes widened, and the man smiled and nodded.
“That's right. It's a reply from the Witch.”
***