Chapter 209: A Promise Kept

Deon turned his head slightly, a grin spreading across his face as he looked at Rememver.

“I see your senses are as sharp as ever.”

“Well, you did bring me to this grave you used to visit alone.”

……

He was right. It was time to return to the Demon Realm.

He had lingered in the Human Realm for too long. The deadline set with the Demon King was fast approaching. From the moment he’d returned to the Demon King’s castle after crushing the Empire and relinquished all his duties until now, the Demon King had shown remarkable patience.

He’d never witnessed the Demon King’s wrath, and to avoid any unnecessary complications, it was best to return before that patience wore thin.

Still kneeling, Deon gently stroked the tombstone before quietly calling out to Rememver.

“May I ask one last favor of you?”

“I’m listening.”

“In about a week, I’d like you to remove that charm… the one with the anti-decay properties.”

“That’s no trouble at all. I was planning to leave soon, but staying another week won’t be a problem. And considering our time together… very well, I’ll do it.”

……

It had been a truly dreamlike interlude. Deon gently closed his eyes.

A peaceful life under the sun. It felt like a dream after all he’d been through. Each time, the sharp, metallic tang of blood in the air and the cloying scent of blood seeping into the floorboards dragged him back to reality. Otherwise, he might have truly mistaken it all for a dream.

But he couldn’t afford to. He clenched his fist.

‘My sins are buried here. Reality escape is not an option.’

He wouldn’t turn away.

He pressed a soft kiss to the tombstone and rose to his feet.

“Rememver.”

“Yes.”

“I want to properly repay the kindness you’ve shown me, Rememver. So…”

“Esperance will cease all interference in the war after honoring our existing agreements.”

Rememver answered without hesitation.

Perhaps their conversations had chipped away at the wall between them, or maybe it was simply because this was their farewell, but the perpetually enigmatic light in Rememver’s silver-blue eyes was replaced by a stark resolve. Deon glimpsed something else flicker within them—a hint of ‘pity’.

‘…Pity?’

It vanished as quickly as it appeared, but it had definitely been pity.

Why would he feel pity just saying that? Deon frowned, unable to grasp the sudden shift in atmosphere.

Rememver, easily reading Deon’s confusion from his blatant expression, simply chuckled instead of offering an explanation or clarification.

‘Sometimes ignorance is bliss, after all.’

He should have concealed it better. It was a mistake.

It had been a fleeting moment, yet Rememver had caught it without missing a beat.

They had spent three weeks closer than ever, and considering they were about to part, it was odd that his guard hadn’t dropped completely. Still, it was best if this went unnoticed. Who would have expected Rememver to catch such a subtle shift?

Deon Hart would likely assume Rememver’s pity was linked to his statement about Esperance.

But he was wrong. Rememver had simply inadvertently revealed an emotion that had been lurking beneath the surface all along.

Therefore, he shouldn’t answer Deon’s unspoken question.

No one would feel good knowing their relationship with someone else began with pity.

How would Deon Hart react if he knew? Rememver, already anticipating the likely outcome, simply tightened his lips and smiled again.

…During those three weeks at the mansion, Deon Hart had asked him why he had been chosen to serve at his residence in the first place.

Rememver had replied:

[It was merely coincidence.]

[…Coincidence?]

[Yes. It was simply chance that you caught my eye. By sheer coincidence, I heard the Emperor was seeking a butler for the mansion where Deon Hart, a hero of the Eight Years’ War, would reside. And by another stroke of luck, I caught the Emperor’s attention during the application process.]

Coincidence piled upon coincidence, weaving into fate.

Among the heroes who emerged from the Eight Years’ War, a young one was particularly striking.

‘Hero’ was a weighty title. Especially for a ‘hero’ of war—a title ultimately measured by ‘how many lives they’d taken’.

How much suffering had he endured to reach such a position? How many sins did he have to bear? Pity overshadowed admiration.

Driven by a desire to observe him more closely, he had become a butler. He sensed the young hero’s weariness from the harsh path he’d walked, and a premonition of the thorny road ahead. Ultimately, their bond had indeed begun with ‘pity’.

Even back when Deon Hart was merely a ‘hero’, the soft-hearted old man had felt a pang of pity. It was a shallow sentiment, akin to the pity one might feel for a beggar starving in the streets, but undeniably, it was pity.

And now, with time having passed and affection having taken root, how much deeper did that pity run?

“With the Demon King alone deterring any action, turning even the Hero into an enemy would only spell ruin. Even if I wanted to intervene, those above would stop me.”

And now, you’ve become more than just a ‘hero’—you’re the ‘Hero’ incarnate.

Coincidence piled upon coincidence, solidifying into destiny.

Esperance, a kingdom with a history longer than any other, possessed countless ancient texts. As a high-ranking noble, Rememver had access to these texts from childhood, and now, with the wisdom of age, he understood the world’s design.

And so, even now, he pitied Deon Hart. He couldn’t help himself.

‘…’

The fleeting glimpse of ‘pity’ went unaddressed. As if to brush it aside, Rememver offered no explanation or clarification, instead providing rationale for his previous statement. Even so, Rememver’s words were surprising enough to distract Deon.

Deon’s eyes widened slightly in surprise.

“…You knew I’d become the Hero?”

“If you wished to conceal it, you should have disguised your appearance.”

“It wasn’t exactly something I was trying to hide… but knowing all along, why…”

“There was no need to bring it up.”

Rememver offered a faint smile.

Deon Hart was undeniably a sinner. Regardless of his past or the circumstances, the present truth was irrefutable. And he had no intention of denying it.

Yet, Rememver, an old man with a soft heart, felt a poignant sorrow for Deon Hart, separate from the sins he’d committed. He had even secretly offered small acts of kindness, so the depth of his feelings was evident without needing to be spoken.

“In any case, you seem uneasy, so let me reiterate: Esperance will take no further action.”

But he couldn’t offer overt assistance. Helping Deon Hart meant siding with the Demon King’s army, a betrayal of humanity. The kingdom would cast off this old man before risking being dragged into such a conflict.

Nor could he openly oppose him. The kingdom would never condone that, and more importantly, the precarious young man had already found a place in the old man’s heart.

Like most old men, Rememver valued stability over valor. His choice was predictable.

‘To remain a bystander.’

Pity was one thing; direct action, quite another.

Especially since the world itself had marked Deon Hart as its target. What could a mere speck of dust hope to achieve?

After all, the Kingdom of Esperance was practically synonymous with neutrality and non-intervention. As a man of that kingdom, watching Deon Hart from the sidelines wasn’t such a bad stance to take.

Recovering Cruel Hart’s body and granting Deon Hart’s last request was the extent of his courage.

“So, what will you do now?”

At Deon’s question, Rememver lifted his gaze.

Future plans, you ask? He hadn’t really made any…

“…Perhaps compiling a history might not be a bad idea.”

“A history… you mean?”

“Yes. Aren’t all kingdoms except Esperance destined to fall? Whether the Demon King’s army settles in the Human Realm or retreats for some reason, chaos will undoubtedly ensue. There will be little time to record this era, and even if records are made, they will likely be lost in the ensuing turmoil. So, this old man intends to try his hand at it.”

“…That sounds admirable.”

Of course, that depended on Esperance remaining safe in the aftermath.

Deon himself, as commander-in-chief, had guaranteed Esperance would not be attacked, but neither could guarantee that the Demon King’s army, having conquered the Human Realm, wouldn’t target the last remaining kingdom. They both knew this, yet neither spoke of it.

Deon chuckled playfully, trying to lighten the slightly tense atmosphere.

“Make me the protagonist, please.”

“…History doesn’t have protagonists.”

“You could set aside the official history and write it as a novel, couldn’t you? A sort of… alternative history, perhaps?”

“Or perhaps even a romanticized version… I’ll certainly attempt it. Though, whether I’ll finish it before I kick the bucket…”

Rememver’s playful exaggeration, readily accepting the jest, eased the tension.

It was time to part ways. Deon gave Rememver a final nod of farewell and turned back to the tombstone one last time. His gaze lingered on the inscription, etched in surprisingly elegant script.

[Noli metuere, una tecum bona mala tolerabimus.]

Don’t worry, we will endure both good and bad together.

He didn’t know when he’d visit again. Perhaps never, not until his dying day. And so, he offered his farewell now.

Knowing it might be the last time, Deon offered a radiant smile, as if he had not a care in the world.

‘Goodbye, brother.’

***

Deon Hart returned to the Demon King’s castle.

His return was just shy of the month he’d promised the Demon King. Having no luggage to speak of, Deon intended to head straight to the Demon King’s office, bypassing his own room, but he stopped short when he saw Ed waiting for him.

“Ed.”

“Yes, Sir Deon.”

“Tell Develania to call off the search for Cruel Hart’s body.”

“Huh…?”

This was the body of his brother he’d searched so desperately for. When he’d finally recovered the head, hadn’t he kept it close, even sleeping with it nearby, preserved by anti-decay magic? Who had cast the spell was unknown, but still…

Startled by the utterly unexpected order, Ed looked up at Deon. Without needing a second glance, he immediately noticed something different from when Deon had left.

‘…Gone.’

He distinctly remembered Deon leaving with the box containing the head. But it was gone. He was empty-handed.

Had he lost it? If so, the order wouldn’t be to call off the search, but something else entirely. There would be an uproar already. Had he given up on finding the body and decided to send just the head back? Or perhaps… had he found the rest of the body in the Human Realm and held a proper funeral there?

Given his extended stay in the Human Realm, the latter seemed more likely.

All these thoughts flashed through his mind and were quickly dismissed. Composing himself as if nothing were amiss, Ed bowed respectfully.

“Understood.”

“Right.”

Deon brushed past Ed as if he were already forgotten and strode purposefully toward the Demon King’s office.

He wasn’t rushing, but neither was he hesitant. Reaching the door at the end of the familiar hallway, he raised his hand to knock without pausing to catch his breath.

Knock, knock.

“Enter.”

He entered the moment permission was granted.

The Demon King sat behind his desk, seemingly engrossed in paperwork as always. He set down his pen and looked up as Deon entered. The moment their eyes met, an inscrutable glint sparked in the Demon King’s crimson eyes, and his lips curved into a smile.

“You’re late.”

…

“I recall you saying you’d return with results, and that they’d materialize within a month… and it’s almost been a month, hasn’t it? Judging by the lack of new reports regarding Esperance, it seems there are no results to speak of.”

…

“Did you run out of time? If the results were promising, I might have been willing to grant you more. But…?”

The results?

The Demon King steepled his fingers, resting his chin upon them, and smirked. Deon mirrored the gesture with a smile of his own.

“I failed.”

It was a brazenly confident declaration, delivered so smoothly it momentarily robbed the Demon King of speech.