Chapter 13: Interlude — Alicia and the Saint

"Alicia, I hereby recognize you as the new Saint. From this moment on, you shall bear the name Septem."

"Yes. From this moment forward, I am Alicia Septem. I swear to devote myself fully so that I may be of service to the Sword King when he appears."

That was the memory of the day I became a Saint. The day I was abandoned as an orphan before the church, raised within its walls, and—because I showed a strong aptitude for light magic—set upon the path of becoming a Saint.

By the time I became aware of myself, I was already being trained as the next Saint. It was for the sake of the nation, to ensure that the salvation once brought by the First Sword King would never be forgotten. Such was the doctrine upheld by the church—a system that had endured for generations.

My life was never mine to begin with.

"Alicia, in my time, the Sword King did not appear. But perhaps he will in yours. For that day, you must hone yourself—and prepare the people so they will accept him when he comes."

"Yes. I shall become the Sword King’s hand and save him. I promise to conduct myself as a Saint for that purpose."

The Pontiff before me had grown old. At last, she seemed relieved to pass the role of Saint on to the next generation. Like someone who had finally set down a heavy, crushing burden, her face softened in quiet relief.

And yet…

There was something else in her expression. As though she no longer understood what her life had been for.

It was like looking at my own future—and it terrified me.

A "Saint" exists to aid the "Sword King" in fulfilling what must be done—to draw the Holy Sword and become king. That person might emerge from the common folk… or from the nobility.

That is why we must always be prepared, no matter when he appears. For generations, the church and its Saints have worked so that the people would be ready to accept the Sword King when he finally comes.

When the day arrives—when someone draws the Holy Sword—we must ensure that whoever it is, regardless of their birth or the life they’ve lived, will be accepted.

"Perhaps… he won’t appear in my time either."

The murmur slipped from my lips before I could stop it. Perhaps it was my true feeling.

After all, in the five hundred years since the First Sword King, no successor has been found.

Even searching the entire nation, no one possesses the qualification. Perhaps such a person was born in another country. Without anyone drawing the Holy Sword, we don’t even know what conditions must be met to wield it.

It is like searching for a single glittering grain in a desert.

A trial I don’t think I could endure.

And so I wore the mask of a Saint and continued living. Listening to people’s troubles. Serving food to the needy. Offering smiles to the poor.

All the while fearing that one day I might forget who I truly am… I continued wearing the mask of a Saint who smiled equally at everyone.

"Then stop trying to snap my joints alreadyyyyyyyyyyy!!! My leg doesn’t bend that waaaaaay!!!"

That was how I met them.

Pure coincidence.

A black-haired boy writhing in the street, caught in a joint lock by a cute silver-haired girl.

His scream sounded genuinely painful…

And before I knew it, I had called out to them.

What followed was a whirlwind. He was forceful—pushing his thoughts onto others—yet somehow honest, living with an intensity that felt almost overwhelming.

Watching him, his childhood friend Hikari would call him an "idiot"… while looking at him with such gentle eyes.

"How nice…"

The words slipped out before I could stop them—and startled even me.

"How nice."

Only then did I realize—deep down, I envied him. I wanted to live freely, just like that.

He treated me not as a Saint, but as just a girl—dragging me around the city as I guided them, then buying me candied apples as a "thank you." I had never eaten while walking before—it wasn’t fitting for a Saint—but he forced one into my hands anyway, staring at me with sparkling eyes and urging me to eat.

So I had no choice.

I still remember how delicious that first candied apple was.

"Anyway, what’s your type when it comes to guys? And if possible, I’d love to hear what you’d want to do with them too."

…Please don’t suddenly ask something so outrageous.

At that moment, I think I had even forgotten to wear my mask as a Saint—I was simply smiling as myself.

"Sorry about him. He’s really an idiot. If he offended you, I’m really sorry."

"No, it did catch me off guard, but I’ve never had a conversation like this before. It’s refreshing—and fun."

"Thanks for saying that. He seriously doesn’t care what people think…"

She sighed in exasperation, but her profile was so beautiful it erased the expression entirely. Even someone like me, who never paid attention to such things, could tell—she was truly beautiful.

Because she had a firm sense of self.

I envied that. I wished I could live like that too.

"Still, he never does anything people truly hate. Somehow, he draws a clear line."

"Ah… I think I understand. Whenever a conversation starts heading somewhere uncomfortable, he tries to change the subject, doesn’t he?"

"Yeah. Though the result is stuff like that, so it still comes out of nowhere."

…I don’t like people who see me only as a Saint.

No—that’s not it.

I hate them.

People who equate me with the Saint… who only ever look at that side of me.

Talking to them feels like I’m disappearing.

That’s why talking with Toma and the others was so enjoyable.

They saw me as me.

"But… this will end soon…"

Toma and Hikari said they had come to the royal capital for the ritual to draw the Holy Sword.

Which means…

Once the ritual is over, we will likely never meet again.

Parting from people who became my friends—not as a Saint, but as someone separate from all that—

It hurt.

But they have their own lives.

To twist those lives for my sake would be a terrible sin.

And if I were to accept that…

Wouldn’t that mean accepting my own fate—being forced into the role of a Saint like this?

"Huh…?"

And then—

As I thought that, I realized something.

If, from this point on, someone appears who can draw the Holy Sword, that person will become the Sword King.

But then… what happens to that person’s life?

What about the future they were meant to walk by their own will?

Once I realized it, it felt so obvious that I couldn’t understand how I had never noticed before. Just as I had worn the mask of a Saint and fulfilled that role, the one who becomes the Sword King would be forced to abandon everything—the life they had lived until then.

For the sake of the nation.

And I understood—

There was no difference between that and what I had always hated.

"NO WAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!! WHERE DID MY HIKA-ALI SHIP GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!"

That’s why… when Toma drew the Holy Sword, I felt like I was going to cry.

Because I was forcing the very life I had always despised… onto the first person who had ever seen me as myself.

Even so, I put my mask back on as a Saint. Before his confusion could settle, I declared the birth of the "Sword King" to the people—cutting off any path of escape.

After that, Toma accepted his position far more quickly than I had expected. He didn’t even say he wanted to go home. He only handed me a letter, asking that it be delivered.

Without a single complaint… without a word of resentment…

He accepted it.

Let go of the future he should have had.

And still—he smiled.

That strength… I envied it.

And more than anything, I resented it.

Even knowing it was unreasonable, I couldn’t stop myself from feeling anger toward him.

Afterward, we shared a meal, and before I knew it, he had pushed things back to a first-name basis. Swept along by his insistence, I found myself being dragged somewhere I would never normally go—the knights’ training grounds.

At some point, Toma had started running alongside the knights.

Not just that—he was fast enough to leave them behind.

Maybe that was why…

By the time he finished, his face was deathly pale. It was obvious he had pushed himself to the brink, on the verge of collapse.

"Alright, alright, good work. Here—you wanted this, right?"

"Haaah… hiiih… fuuuh… heeh… hoooh…"

"That last one was on purpose, wasn’t it?"

Swaying on his feet, Toma was gently caught and supported by Hikari. Just as promised, she let him rest his head on her lap. Reassured, his expression softened—and he quickly fell asleep.

Even from the outside, it was clear how deeply they trusted one another.

"...Hey, knights. I get it—you’ve got things you want to say to him. Being suddenly told he’s your king, having some kid you don’t even know—barely an adult—standing above you… yeah, of course that’d piss you off."

Hikari’s expression as she looked at Toma was gentle…

And at the same time, so painfully sad that it wavered.

She spoke to those who had run with him—and who had been whispering behind his back about him becoming the Sword King. Her voice carried a quiet sorrow. No one stopped her—not even the captain of the knights.

"But he’s not just fooling around. He’s desperately trying, in his own way, to accept reality. He’s reckless, driven by his impulses, says and does the most ridiculous things… but even so, this idiot thinks about things he doesn’t have to think about.

I’m not asking you to accept him. Toma will prove himself—with results. He’ll make you acknowledge him.

So there’s only one thing I’ll ask.

Please… look at him.

Not as some ‘Sword King’—but at the person right in front of you.

The guy who blurts out nonsense, who’s easy to rile up… and who always gives everything he’s got."

That… was my wish too.

I didn’t want people to see me as a "Saint."

I wanted them to see me.

And yet…

I had looked at Toma as the "Sword King."

Ignoring everything about his past… and his future.

Even now, I don’t think I was truly seeing him.

I thought this might be my chance—

A chance to believe that my life hadn’t been meaningless.

I didn’t want to end up like the previous Saint, who lost her role and no longer knew what her life had been for.

"I’d do anything to stay with Toma. I don’t care about being the Sword King or whatever—that doesn’t matter. As long as he has a place where he can smile… that’s where I belong. I decided that a long time ago."

…I don’t understand how she can feel that way.

I don’t understand how someone can care so deeply for another.

And once again, it felt like they were drifting far away from me.

It made me unbearably lonely.

And at the same time… it all seemed so selfish.

"I want to stay by Toma’s side. I want him to stay with me. I want him to keep smiling… always."

As she looked at Toma sleeping on her lap, her eyes were so gentle…

So beautiful, it was almost mesmerizing.

They were different from me.

That truth was laid bare before me—that I was someone who could only think of herself.

He had someone who would say all of that and stay by his side—even as someone whose life had been decided for him, just like mine.

I envied him so much.

And I came to hate myself—so shallow, so wretched—more than anything.