Chapter 117 Carpe Diem
The firecamp that burns weakly creates a glowing outline of his face, making him stand out.
How much blood has he lost? His villainous face looks unhealthily pale. Roze break off branches and toss them in to keep the only light alive. Maybe because even that was a struggle, Roze chose to speak harshly.
"Did you enjoy yourself?"
"...What gives? Why are you asking now?"
"I mean, I was stripped bare. I should be worried about whether I got bitten or not."
"Are ya kidding me? I was on the verge of death. There wasn't time for that kinda worry."
"Unfortunately, with that face, you lack credibility."
"Ain't a damned crybaby to ya!"
Testing what she already know by saying it out loud is a bad girl's trick. The sharpness in his eyes, as if in disbelief, is still there, and Roze pouts to hide her relief.
"By the way, my gut was empty like there was a hole in it or somethin', but why did they 'closed' up?"
"How would I know?"
"My left arm is kinda stiff, but damn it works. What the fuck happened? Hey Ruthless, you're sleeping, huh? This ain't right."
Tilting his head, Hiiro rubs his belly. One of his 6-pack abs is red. It must be the mark from a piece of driftwood. However, the wound is completely sealed by the dark red blood that has dried up.
"...I don't get it either."
"Huh?"
But it was Roze who really wanted to tilt her head in confusion about the situation.
"I'm your enemy. So why did you help me?"
"What? You mad 'bout being rescued?"
"I can't accept it. I don't understand why you helped me or why you're keeping me alive. If you wanted to capture me, you could just restrain me, but you haven't done anything."
"Cut the act. I be bleeding out."
"Yeah, I can see that!"
There were too many things she couldn't accept.
Honestly, it would have been easier to be kept alive for a purpose and pinned down. She can't read the simple thoughts of this man.
"I don't get it. You said to help you, so I did? To someone I was just fighting to the death with, risking my life?"
Why would he risk his life to save someone he genuinely hate? She just can't understand it. Even if she wanted to call her a hypocrite for fearing death, she can't forget the coldness he showed during their conflict.
"Fight to the death?"
But still, Hiiro carefully crushes the last bit of pride he has as a witch.
"What are you yapping about? A brawl to the death? Ain't no plan of mine to end ya. I only gave 'em a shove when ya started acting like ya were some kinda witch. Well, sure as shootin', I got summoned by the mayor in town."
"Then... that just means you should eliminate me! I tried to burn Joosa! That town mayor must want my head!"
"Sorry, but I had to do what the boss said. All I did was protect the town and keep things from going boom. So now I gotta shut up!"
"...That's just nonsense!"
It's getting even harder to understand. This guy's whims are too convenient, like a fairy tale that I can't accept.
"Just... kill me."
So even after being saved, Roze still wished for the end. Looking down at her empty hands, she quietly sought sympathy.
"Just end it. If it's you──."
"You wanted to meet your fate, didn't ya? Last night, you stopped me from drinking the poison God gave me?"
"Huh?"
"Whether or not revenge works out, you planned on dying all along. And you picked me to be the one to finish it off. Since I'm known as a hero knight, you figured I'd have the satisfaction of defeating a 'witch,' right? Something like that?"
"..."
"Hey, guess what? You misjudged me."
The end as a witch.
That would be the last bit of pride for a woman cursed by fate.
But he had no intention of fulfilling even that small vanity.
"I'm a tough guy, meant to be the hero. Ain't no one making me play this game, it's just fate."
Of course. He had long since stepped off that stage and shattered it to pieces.
"You want me to give up control like some script says, huh? Too young for that shit. But sure, come back as a bad guy worth taking out."
He won't dance on the remains now.
Hiiro showed his rejection, thinking he wouldn't let anyone have a beautiful ending.
No matter how deeply she wears the witch's mask, rough hands won't allow it.
No one knows how much the sight of him playing the witch stirred Atami Shou's heart. Roze had no way of knowing.
"You're ruining my revenge just to save my life. If it was just for your own satisfaction as a knight, that would be one thing, but your reasoning is just childish harassment."
"Yeah. It's total assault on someone irritating─just how a 'third-line loser brat' would act, ain't it?"
"...You really have a grudge against me, huh? Did you not like being brushed off that night?"
"Unfortunately, it's just an unfounded beef on your end."
"...What do you mean by that?"
A man who killed himself for his dream and played the opposite role.
A woman who gave up her dream, killed herself, and danced on the stage prepared for her. The conflicts that seeped in unknowingly. The gestures. The words.
The emptiness of the woman playing the witch overlapped with a past she didn't want to remember──Akané crushed this extremely unpleasant stage with a strong sense of disgust.
It wasn't a knight's mission. It wasn't a hero's ego. It was self-hatred. A resistance to the phantom pain of a long-ago past. Driven by that, Atami Shou would never allow the ending that Roze desired.
"...Right. The one who was clouded was me. The one on stage (you) wasn't a hero knight at all."
"I told you. It's a waste."
When it came to this, she realized.
If the witch's enemy was a knight, then the only one standing in the way of Roze, a single woman, was just one naughty boy.
It seemed that wanting a just end was too late now.
"You couldn't pull off the role of a hero knight when you were in such a desperate state."
"Yeah. But no real threat around you at all."
"Still, you're the one who didn't let that happen. Telling me to become a fitting villain... you really have some nerve, considering I have nothing left."
"That's way too harsh, even if it didn't work. Still a criminal for trying to wreck the town. If you just gets away with not facing the consequences, you're nothing but trouble"
"...Are you serious? I can't wrap my head around that."
"Next time I see ya, I'll kick your ass like a hero knight should!"
"...That's some crazy logic. You're way more suited to being the villain."
"Well, thanks for saying that."
Still, if she wants to drag him onto her stage, if she wants him to treat himself as a hero, then survive and stand in his way as the appropriate kind of villain.
Compared to that arrogant guy who declared it so, she really was just a small fry.
"That's some 'Carpe Diem' nonsense, huh?"
"What the hell are you blabbering about?"
"Well, it's an irresponsible and merciless saying."
Hiiro Merifar.
Objectively speaking, he's a man far from being a hero or a knight.
He doesn't deny things out of a sense of justice. He doesn't stand in the way out of a sense of duty. He doesn't offer comforting words.
He doesn't even give a warm embrace to cover things up.
She was saved unilaterally, broken unilaterally, and had the ending forced upon her unilaterally.
And that's all there is to it.
"But I like that saying 'Memento Mori' more than that."
The pain that she thought she no longer needed has become necessary again. It was more than when her dream came true.
More than when she offered a silent prayer for her mother at the site of their lost home, and tears flowed straight down.
(...I'm sorry for being a bad daughter, Mama.)
Even if a true knight reached out to her in the same way, she wouldn't take that hand. Because even if they could be close, it wouldn't mean they touched the essence of things.
──A sense of duty. A sense of justice. Those are indeed beautiful things, but they come from social thinking. Even if she tries to stand on the same level, there's an unconscious hierarchy there.
But the Hiiro that Roze faces is different.
Even though he tries to push down with his words and actions, our gazes end up at the same height. To the point of being aware of mutual disdain. That's proof that he can see the essence of things.
So, his not-so-kind words hit home every time.
She wants to grab that hand that's stretched out carelessly.
(I understand. The reason I tried to kill him that night, and the real reason I gave up on killing him.)
She thought she should kill him, but she also thought she couldn't. That this rough, lowly, savage, twisted man could touch her heart. Her soul felt it.
She still can't regret not killing him that night.
It was an undeniable defeat for Roze Stalacua.
"...Spilled wine can't go back in the bottle."
The fire in her heart has quietly gone out now.
It's calm, like a night sky after the rain.
The witch's wish will probably never come true.
Neither fulfilling revenge nor scattering to the enemy's blade.
"Still, you say to live on, don't you?"
But even if the spilled wine can't go back in the bottle, it shouldn't be left as it is.
Every story needs an ending.
"Once you start, you have to finish. Just like the dead need a grave."
Saying this, the witch picked up the knight's sword that had been left on the floor.
Outside, the rain had finally ceased, and a hint of blue sky peeked through the dark clouds. It was a sign that dawn was approaching soon.
"So the witch will die here.
On the final stage. In her hometown.
While being watched by the man she hates."
The last thing she wore was a soft smile.
Amidst the rain, only a tiny fragment of the witch's pride remained, like a single grain of sand.
Just as Hiiro was about to shout "Wait!", it was too late.
The silver sword made its path without hesitation.
The darkness of the night was torn apart by crimson.
As if torn apart by the sudden burst of light, the veil of night fell away from the Vengeful Witch's presence.
* * *
The mysterious glowing words hovering in the darkness were losing their brightness.
"The thought-inducing rune on her have long since faded. Then this must be the end of the show."
No further replays could be hoped for. It meant that the purifying fire to wash away Joosa's sins had ended without being lit. Yet, Director Drodo's expression showed no sign of disappointment or sadness, despite the unexpected outcome.
"Was the script significantly twisted? After all, she was just a miserable woman clinging to a dream. She doesn't even have the capacity to fulfill her true desire... No, it doesn't matter anymore."
No feelings for Roze crossed his mind. There was no reason to cling to anything. A puppet with its strings cut had no use anymore.
"The fire's growth has been confirmed. But it feels a bit lacking. It's about time to throw some logs on."
For the man, his obsession was directed only at the fire he poured his heart and soul into. He wasn't satisfied with the results, but he could give it a passing grade. While thinking of the existence that forced that compromise, Drodo waved away the glowing letters. Like swatting away a pesky bug.
"...Hmm. It was amusing, but too much of a good thing can be a buzzkill. I think it's time for the annoying bugs to exit."
Unexpected surprises can be fun. But if they happen too often, they become a nuisance. So, for the foolish ones who overstep their bounds, Drodo decided to speed things up a bit.
"Then, the next stage should be more elaborate. Even if it's outside the main story, I should prepare a little something to show my gratitude for the entertainment."
However, Drodo was aware of the corners of his mouth lifting. Even while looking down on the annoying bugs, his heart sought some flair for their end. It seemed he had surprisingly enjoyed himself with such a trivial existence.
"Heh, this won't do. Maybe because I'm in this form, unnecessary attachments are surfacing. Even though it's just a temporary disguise, it's quite troublesome."
After letting out a cold laugh, he muttered a few words and wrapped his body in multiple dark bands. In an instant, Director Drodo was no longer there.
What remained was a figure draped in deeper black than the night, wearing a half-mask.
The one pulling the strings in this revenge drama was this man disguised as Director Drodo.
"Well then, having witnessed the fate of my leaning post... how wide will the wings of Twilight's fire spread in destruction? I'm looking forward to it."
After a hearty laugh, the man transformed into a 4-winged crow. He had no more use for this ugly land. Without looking back at the murky traces he left behind, he flew into the night.
All that remained was like scattered trash. A fleeting sandcastle, soon to be crushed and forgotten.
The crow, harboring a grudge far deeper than any witch's, looked down on it all.
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