Michael stood eerily still with both his hands behind his back.
He was looking through the window, staring blankly at the scenery outside. It was dark, but the occasional moonlight that slipped out from behind the clouds provided just enough light to see the forest below—withered by autumn, brittle and dying, like it was succumbing to rot.
"Sigh…"
He glanced to his left, toward the bed where Eleanor's dead body lay motionless. The once white sheets were soaked in her blood—just like his hands and clothes—everything stained in a dark, wet colour of crimson.
He had tried to convince himself it was her or him. That she left him no choice. But the way she looked at him, even in her final moments… It haunted him. Not with hatred—but with disappointment and a painful sense of loss.
"Why?" Michael muttered. His voice was hoarse. Broken. Like something inside him had cracked and never quite fit back together.
He stared at her lifeless corpse with an expression of profound sorrow and even deeper exhaustion. Then he closed his eyes for a moment and turned his head back towards the window.
The forest below seemed even more withered now—like it, too, had suffered from the weight of his glance. The darkness deepened, and for a moment, it felt as though death itself had descended upon the world but just as the shadows threatened to devour everything, the clouds drifted apart and the light returned.
Michael shifted his gaze upward to the full moon, now unobstructed—bathed in silver, unveiled in its full glory.
Something in him softened at the sight.
And then… He began to remember. To think. His life flashed before him—not like a blur, but like a slow-burning answer to the question he had asked moments before.
"Why?" He asked again. This time, with a flicker of strength in his voice.
"Honestly, my life wasn't all that bad. There were days filled with sorrow, yes—but just as many filled with laughter. It's just… There were some days that went beyond sorrow. They left scars"
He thought of his parents, taken from him far too young. Of the failures that piled up like discarded memories but he had always persevered. Always ignored the pain. Took another step, even when it meant walking barefoot on glass.
"All my life I tried to do what I thought was right and still, everything always found a way to go wrong, as if to mock my efforts but I endured. Again and again and what was the result?"
His mind drifted back to the hospital rooftop. The night he heard of his grandmother's death. The cold wind. The ledge beneath his feet. The step that changed everything.
"A single drop of water is insignificant but collected? Those drops can form an ocean. That's how my life went, didn't it? An accumulation of sorrow, bottled up until it finally exploded"
He remembered the fall. The wind pressing against his skin and the sight of pavement closing up to meet him.
He smiled.
"When my life was about to end, I didn't feel sorrow however. I felt… free. Liberated. Relieved that everything was over and that I would no longer need to endure any more pain. Pathetic, right? And yet, back then, I never would've imagined it would all lead to this"
He looked down at his hands—smeared with blood and for a moment, he gazed at them with something resembling admiration.
"Hah!" He scoffed. "I was forcefully summoned into this world. They branded me a hero, gave me a sword, and expected me to just embrace this madness?"
He recalled the strange vision during the awakening ceremony. The relentless training. The expedition to exterminate the monsters. All of it felt so mechanical now—he never put much thought into his actions.
"Maybe it is my fault. I tried so hard to meet expectations that I fell back into my old habits—doing what I was supposed to do, never what I wanted. Always the quiet observer of my own life, hoping it would somehow fix itself. The way I approached everything. It was naive and stupid, wasn't it? As if I was just behaving like…"
Michael paused, bitter realization flashed in his eyes.
"...As if I was just behaving like a child"
The moonlight brushed across his face, and alongside the grief, something foreign was born—determination. Michael finally realized what needs to change.
"No more pretending, no more putting on a fake smile" He proclaimed quietly, but with resolve. "I'm too tired of doing so"
For the first time in a long while, Michael felt something close to happiness. Like a man dying of thirst, clawing through a desert, catching sight of an oasis in the distance—a promise of salvation.
But he didn't have much time to ponder the feeling, because he heard footsteps approaching.
"What the hell happened here?"
Sarah, flanked by guards, rushed into the room. Her eyes locked immediately on Eleanor's body—and more precisely, the dagger buried in her heart.
"Can't you guess?" Michael replied without turning to face them.
"An assassin…" She said quickly. "How did she get in here? Did she reveal anything about her origin? Did you know her?" The questions poured from her in a flurry.
"Did I know her?" Michael almost scoffed. "I met her at the banquet. She introduced herself as Eleanor and I thought something between us clicked, so we left together. Guess I was wrong"
"That's everything you know? It's common courtesy to explain one's origin alongside introductions" She pushed for more information, her eyes narrowed as she stared at Michael's back.
"Origin?" Michael paused but quickly recalled that in fact most people that approached him today did explain their whole background like a recital. What family they are from, their social status, even connections to people of influence.
"Right… origin. She only gave me her name. I didn't bother asking for more"
"What?" Sarah's voice tightened. "So you left with someone you knew nothing about—and it did not strike you as odd that she revealed nothing?"
She took a step forward.
"And why is she in your room—on your bed?"
Michael did not reply.
"So you let yourself be seduced. Goddess have mercy on this fool…" She pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath. Though she tried to compose herself, the tension in her jaw betrayed her frustration.
She bit the nail of her thumb in thought, pacing slightly as she tried to piece together the next steps.
"There's a horde of nobles and delegates gathered for the celebration. The event will last at least a week—and while I personally wouldn't care, the Empire certainly won't tolerate a scandal like this on the first day. We don't need drama. I'll inform the right people and investigate this… Eleanor—discreetly"
Her voice was calm but her expression soured as she looked back at Michael who still silently faced the window.
"You seem to be taking things lightly. You know, despite understanding that you are inexperienced I had high hopes for you but the way you behave as of late makes me believe I need to rethink how I view you. You hesitate to kill a single monster, run away without a word and now this? I must ask, are you a man or a child?"
Sarah always appeared stoic, collected but everyone has their limits and now her frustration with Michael hit past that limit.
"You are a hero, Michael. Perhaps you never wanted to be one but you are one. You need to realize that with that title comes untold responsibility and weight. If you continue to act this way, if you continue to ignore that fact not only you will suffer but also those that will put faith in you, the hero"
"Are you serious right now?" He asked, quietly.
"What?" She asked in turn, caught off guard by the question.
"Your words make sense. I see my faults too, now" He turned from the window, finally facing her.
His hair was messy, clothes disheveled and stained with blood. The way he looked at Sarah made her heart freeze for a moment. It was the first time she witnessed such hatred in his gaze.
"I was summoned to this world by you and you were the ones that called me a hero"
He scoffed as he got closer to her.
"Today I was almost killed because of that. I knew practically nothing about that woman and she knew nothing about me besides the fact that all of you decided to call me a hero"
Michael took another step towards Sarah, now standing right in front of her.
"Yet here you are, complaining as if it's all my fault. You couldn't even wait but just thought: Hey this guy was almost murdered and was forced to kill someone in self defense I guess it's a great idea to start blaming him for everything"
Michael paused and took a good look at her face. Although she seemed initially surprised by his outburst now she held his gaze without showing much emotion and despite the silence Sarah did reply or acknowledge his words in any way.
"Tsk…" Michael did not like her reaction. It's as if she completely disregarded his feelings.
"But like I mentioned earlier you are right. I suppose I was acting a bit naive, didn't I?" He spoke, breaking the tense silence.
The room suddenly got a lot darker. Behind him through the window one could see the clouds gathering once more greedily devouring the moon until nothing remained.
"When in Rome do as Romans do. So fine. I will be your hero"