It felt like being struck in the head.
I had never seen that expression on her face before.
Even though she was desperately trying to hold back, she couldn’t fully suppress the emotions leaking through.
She looked as if she was genuinely hurt, even though I knew that couldn’t possibly be the case.
“…I’m sorry.”
That was all I could say.
My mind had gone blank, and no other words came to me.
It was as if that was the only phrase left in my head.
The reasons, the who-started-it, everything from just moments ago had disappeared, and all that remained was the overwhelming guilt for making her wear that expression.
A silence fell between us.
And in that silence, we stood frozen like statues.
“….”
“….”
I don’t know how much time actually passed, but once I regained some semblance of rational thought, an unbearable awkwardness settled between us.
I couldn’t figure out what had just happened, what it meant, or why we acted the way we did.
Just moments ago, her expression had seemed unbearably pitiful, but now—though faintly flushed—she had mostly returned to her usual self.
“Uh…”
I had to say something.
Anything to break this atmosphere.
“….”
Yeah.
I’ve always been bad in crises.
It was always Lowell or Medluf who figured out how to respond or break through situations like this.
Like back when we fell into that trap in the mountains…
“…Ahem. So, what was that matter you needed to handle?”
Her question snapped me back to my senses.
“Ah, someone invited me.”
“Invited? You?”
Yeah, it’s rare.
I was surprised, too.
But still, is that really something to be that shocked about?
“Yes. A certain Viscount Ashton was deeply impressed with my achievements, apparently.”
I exaggerated a bit, trying to erase what had just happened.
“Don’t lie.”
That wasn’t just a reflexive phrase of disbelief.
She was certain.
Not a question of why or how—she flat-out rejected it.
“Yeah, yeah. Of course. As if a noble would invite someone like me. It’s ridiculous…”
“No, you’re literally making that lying face right now.”
For a moment, her face overlapped with young Lowell’s.
Back when we were kids, Lowell could always tell when I was lying—even about the smallest things.
And he’d always say exactly that: You’re making that lying face again.
Over time, I got a little better at lying.
I could even slip a few past Lowell now.
But to hear those words again—from her, of all people.
Granted, I didn’t try nearly as hard to fool her as I would Lowell.
I didn’t use the tricks and techniques I’d perfected to deceive him.
Still, to think she’d call me out like that…
“…Yeah. Well, I’m a terrible liar.”
“So what’s really going on? You even dug out that outfit.”
“Oh dear, are you worried about me, perhaps?”
“Worried, my ass. All the other commanders and the Demon King’s army have returned to the Demon Realm. Who’s left that could kill you?”
She looked dead serious.
“I appreciate you thinking so highly of me, but as you know, I’m not quite that strong.”
That might be true for Lowell, Medluf, or Baglos.
But as for Aegina and Lauti and Orcan…
Sorry, but even though they’re strong, they’re not at that level.
Aegina struggles with unorthodox tactics, and Orcan can’t efficiently deal with curses or certain types of magic.
If Aegina was surrounded by a dozen well-trained top-tier assassins, she wouldn’t survive.
If Orcan was attacked by four or five elite mages from a distance, he’d have no choice but to run.
Lauti’s a bit harder to assess, but she’s not really a fighter, so she falls more into the latter category.
As for me?
I guarantee you don’t need top assassins or archmages to take me down.
“It’s not about skill. You know how our demon commanders and the royal guard each kept a close eye on not just the Hero, but each of you individually too. Anubkut kept watch over Orcan. Denatel over Medluf. Jeka over Baglos. Georges over Aegina. And I kept watch over Lauti. Only Raiven was obsessed solely with the Hero.”
“Yes, I’m aware. It was pretty easy for me, since no one was assigned to monitor me.”
Eventually, it turned into more of a rivalry.
Objectively, the demon commanders outclassed us by far.
But again—no one was watching me.
“I’m not done. Don’t interrupt. We each prioritized eliminating our designated opponents, yes. But there was one thing we all agreed on: That Anak, killing you would be harder than killing the Hero.”
…What?
“Seriously? Why?”
I was honestly surprised.
I’d thought the demon commanders barely even knew I existed.
“I don’t know. We never really analyzed it in detail. Just, whenever we saw you, we all had the same feeling. That regardless of victory or defeat—you’d survive. To the end.”
What a vague answer.
She never really thought deeply about it, it seems.
It felt more like they didn’t care than anything else.
“…That’s it? Are you sure you’re not just making this up now?”
“Hey, the demon commanders constantly bickered and disagreed on every little thing. Just look at how we each kept tabs on different opponents. But on the topic of you—we were unanimous. You can’t imagine how rare that is.”
No wonder you lost to us, then.
“Still, the fact remains no one paid attention to me. Ever consider this? Maybe no one tried to kill me because they never even targeted me.”
But the moment I said that, she looked utterly appalled.
“You seriously think we never tried to kill you?”
“…What?”
The way she looked at me in disbelief made me start to rethink.
It’s not like I never got attacked.
But unlike Lowell or the others, I was never the clear target of a direct assault—like the massive barrier trap in Yurina that targeted Medluf, or the mirror trap that nearly killed Baglos.
“Luzen Village. Herget Fortress. Puehren. Arquortas. All of those were traps and operations designed to kill you.”
“…!”
No way.
I searched my memory.
Luzen Village, Herget Fortress, Puehren, Arquortas…
Yeah, I remember those places.
There were serious ambushes and traps in some of them.
But—
“Those were aimed at Lowell, Orcan, and Baglos, not me!”
“No, they changed the target because you didn’t take the bait! Who drags the Hero along just because a pretty girl asks you for help finding her missing father? And who sets up seven magical wards around their own room in an iron fortress? And when a rare magical artifact is rumored to be nearby, who doesn’t go look for it?”
Ah.
Right, I remember now.
A pretty girl did ask me to help find her missing father in the woods.
At Herget, Orcan got attacked while sleeping in the room next to mine.
In Arquortas, I heard that artifact rumor, but I didn’t go because everyone else was busy.
“You’ve got decent skills for one of the Hero’s companions! And that artifact was perfect for you! That dungeon wasn’t even in demon territory! You should’ve gone—even alone!”
“Well, it was just a rumor, and I wasn’t confident about going alone…”
“Anubkut and I worked so hard setting that dungeon up! And in the large-scale ambush at Puehren, we had curse users and snipers target you specifically, but you’d cast five layers of barriers on yourself and summoned two Guardians! They got flustered and failed because of you!”
Now I just felt guilty.
Back then, I thought that if I just did my part, the others would be safe.
But hearing it now, maybe I overdid it.
“And after all that effort—who’s going to kill you now? Don’t make me laugh.”
“I mean, that was when I had Lowell and the others around. This time I’m going alone…”
Honestly, even I felt like I wasn’t making sense anymore.
“Heh.”
She let out a snort, like I’d just said something utterly ridiculous.
“Yeah, we used to think that too—back when our plans kept failing. We figured the only reason you survived was because you never separated from the others. We were sure that once you were isolated, it’d be easy to take you out. Jeka’s lieutenant, Antares, even boasted about it. But what happened to him, again?”
Antares.
He was definitely the demon who dragged me into another dimension when Jeka and his elite soldiers ambushed us.
“That guy… He was probably one of the top five among Jeka’s personal guard, but in the end, he died by your hand.”
“After that, none of the legion commanders made you their target anymore. But since we’re talking about it… how did you even win? No matter how I think about it, he wasn’t someone you could beat.”
“…I was just lucky.”
“He’s not someone you can beat just by being lucky. And besides, you weren’t even hurt that much.”
To be precise, I wasn’t hurt at all.
And while it was luck, it wasn’t the kind of luck others were imagining.
“Well, I suppose I’ll get a chance to explain it another time.”
Back then, Lowell and the others were glad I returned alive, but at the same time, they were puzzled by how completely unscathed I was.
Especially Orcan and Lord Medluf — they were extremely curious about what had happened.
Of course, my answer then was the same as it is now.
“Fine. We’ll have plenty of time to talk, anyway.”
Fortunately, she didn’t press me further.
Orcan had tried for over a week to get the truth out of me.
“So, now really tell me what happened.”
“It’s true that I was invited in the name of Viscount Ashton. But we can’t be sure that name is real.”
I turned toward the side with the magical items.
“The other party sent knights as a sign of respect, and the invitation was full of flowery language.”
“Yeah? But that’s not that unusual, is it? After all, you did save the world.”
“Yes. That might truly be the case. But there was one particular line added at the end of the invitation.”
“What line?”
“That the garden was full of blooming hyacinths.”
“…?”
She looked confused, understandably so.
I wouldn’t have known either if Baglos hadn’t told me back then.
“There’s an old tradition in the human underworld. You send flowers to someone you plan to kill — flowers chosen to match the nature of the message.”
“That’s a weird tradition. Not only is it a hassle, but it’s like warning your enemy ahead of time.”
“It originally came from certain regional groups. It was a declaration — ‘no matter what, I will kill you,’ and a display of confidence. They would send flowers as if to say, ‘you’re already dead. Get your affairs in order.’ Over time, it spread throughout the underworld.”
Apparently, some influential figures back then found it rather stylish.
“But because of issues like region and season, and the difficulty of matching flowers to each situation, the practice faded. It sometimes backfired too. Nowadays, only top-tier assassins or old, traditional organizations continue it — in slightly altered forms.”
“So then…?”
“It’s no longer a warning or a show of confidence — it’s become more like a ritual. Instead of flowers, they send a letter. The contents don’t matter, but at the end, it must mention a flower. And especially hyacinths — their meaning is remembrance. Since most of these cases are about revenge or deep grudges, they’re often used.”