A Depressed Kendo Player Possesses a Reckless Aristocrat

Founding (4)

-With that, we conclude all the proceedings of the memorial service. We extend our thanks once again to everyone who has joined us here today.

Professor Sharon’s voice, calmly resounding.

The long memorial service had ended.

The people who had been mourning somberly were turning and walking away, one by one.

As the passing wind grew stronger, the plaza emptied.

But amidst that scene, there was one boy who couldn’t bring himself to move.

The boy’s name was Alan Reinhardt.

A promising young talent called the best in the academy, and a popular figure beloved by many students.

Alan was just standing there blankly.

Staring at the dark gray tombstones that stood there like a lie.

[A flame who sought to grasp justice with a powerful hammer, a brave boy.]

[Carl, here he rests.]

At the end of his blurred gaze, such a sentence was inscribed.

On the tombstone, devoid of even a trace of life, only the cold reality was etched.

“…”

Carl, the name of his closest friend.

Alan held his breath.

It was a sensation of his consciousness becoming hazy.

For a moment, the thought that this whole situation might be a dream crossed his mind, but that escape from reality didn’t last long.

The biting cold, freezing his hands and feet, brought a brutal sense of reality.

The blond boy retched.

His stomach churned.

Just a few months ago, they were laughing and joking together, but now his friend was buried in the ground.

Alan shuddered, a terrible sense of dissonance washing over him.

“…Karl.”

Why, in god’s name.

Why this?

Thorned questions pierced the boy’s heart.

They still had so many stories left to share, they were going to compete, they were going to vie for the very top spot.

Why did he leave so meaninglessly, so abruptly?

He mumbled the pointless questions for a while.

And not long after, a voice that had lingered in his ears echoed back.

-It was you… you who drove them to their deaths.

A reproach born from a tautly drawn bowstring.

The arrow, shot in an instant, pierced the boy’s lungs.

-The reason they had to be sacrificed is simple.

-It’s because you were weak. You weren’t strong enough to protect them.

Alan bit his lip silently.

A deep sense of loss clouded his wavering golden eyes.

It seemed to gradually swell with moisture until, finally, a single tear began to trickle down.

‘It’s because of me…’

He was powerless.

He struggled against the powerful enemies they had faced for the first time.

While he was being held back, he didn’t even know that students were being killed elsewhere.

What kind of hero was he?

One who couldn’t even protect a single friend at his side.

‘A destiny to save the world… it’s a sick joke.’

Sorrow was tainted with guilt, and guilt turned into self-loathing.

Alan moved forward, leaving the negative emotions behind.

Friends, their eyes full of worry, crowded around, but the boy pushed them away, firm.

Alan moved his legs, alone.

He didn’t really have a destination in mind.

He was just wandering.

He walked wherever his feet took him through the Academy grounds.

It felt like he couldn’t breathe if he didn’t keep moving.

The boy continued his aimless wandering until the sun set, and the sky grew dark.

-CRASH!

A sudden, loud noise.

Immediately after, a shock slams into his body.

When he comes to, he sees himself sprawled out, a mess, on the ground.

He must have been walking lost in thought and fallen.

Alan lay there, discarded like trash.

No, maybe he really was just trash.

He felt a chill creep up, his body temperature dropping, but the boy showed no will to get up.

He just wanted to melt away like this.

Hero, champion, rising star. He wanted to let go of all those names and disappear.

-Thud…

That’s when it happened. The faint sound of footsteps.

“…Alan?”

A familiar voice reaches his ear.

Alan felt a jolt, as if his dazed mind had suddenly sparked.

“Lish, Tra… Young Master?”

A cracked voice slips from his lips.

In his faded pupils, he sees dark hair falling softly.

Raiden Lishit.

The eldest son of the Lishit Dukedom, the one who displayed outstanding prowess during the recent invasion.

And…

‘…The person I almost killed.’

A quiet murmur lingers at the edge of his lips.

Mindlessly drifting, past wrongdoings claw at my brain.

-I’m just tired… I can’t do this anymore…

-Why… why do you hate me so much…?

-This time too… am I the bad guy…?

-I didn’t ask for much… I never wanted your kindness, nor grand thank yous…

Too focused on appearances, acting like a fool in the past.

My reckless actions, in the end, became someone’s lasting wound.

Guilt tightened its grip around my throat once more.

I was never suited for the role of a hero.

Instead of protecting the innocent, I drove them to the point of hanging themselves.

‘Disgusting.’

Alan aimed that word at himself.

There was a time when I suspected Lyden was connected to some sinister aura, that he had gained some ominous power.

But now I know.

It was all just a foolish misunderstanding.

The boy’s past, shown through Aivy’s ‘Soul Link’, held complex circumstances.

The thug-like figure I scorned was a mask hiding pain.

The terrifying aura I had been wary of came from a sacred object of ‘Lament.’

Without even knowing…

I tormented that boy so much.

‘And yet, this person…’

Despite my unforgivable behavior, Lyden always harbored good will towards Alan.

As if treating someone he had admired for a long time.

Only after facing the full truth did I realize.

Lyden had only ever wanted to befriend me.

The hovering, the warnings of incoming danger, the turning a blind eye to my senseless acts…

It was all because he felt close to me.

‘…To such a person, I am…’

A monologue that can’t be completed.

Alan clenched his fist, turning away.

It felt like tears could spill any second.

The reason for the surge of emotion wasn’t simple self-pity, nor a lament for the situation.

It was disappointment.

Disappointment that he was such a terrible person.

Because of the wretched disillusionment tormenting his head, Alan had to bite down on his lip.

‘Just stay still.’

Groveling for forgiveness here would only cause further displeasure.

From the start, even thinking he could be forgiven was a filthy notion.

Even the last time he saw him, the boy had expressed his anger, telling him never to show his face again.

He must surely despise him.

And so he had tried his best to avoid him.

But of all days, with this kind of mood, in this pathetic state, he had run into him.

Alan curled up quietly.

It was his own kind of atonement.

Better to just lie here like a dead rat than to offer a meaningless greeting.

Lest even the sound of his breathing should displease the boy.

“……”

He lay sprawled on the floor in his disheveled state for a while.

Not long after, Alan felt someone’s foot nudging his shoulder.

Perhaps they would step on him?

If so, he was ready to offer his body willingly.

If only that could compensate for the boy’s pain… or even if it didn’t, it didn’t matter.

He was simply worthy of being stepped on.

While resigned to this fate, accepting the future,

“Open your eyes.”

The boy’s voice called out.

Alan hesitated, but slowly raised his eyelids.

“Haah…”

What filled his sight was a pair of black eyes, calmly shining against the dark night sky.

A thick sigh disperses into a long, drawn-out breath.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Raiden was looking down at Allen, sprawled out on the floor, with a look of utter exasperation.

*

“What the hell are you doing?”

I asked, nudging the shoulder that was in my path with my toe.

My downward gaze fell upon the ‘protagonist’ wallowing on the ground like a homeless person.

What’s wrong with *him* this time?

Why is he sleeping rough in this weather?

I couldn’t hold back a sigh bubbling up from within, and pinched the bridge of my nose.

‘It was only because his hair is so strikingly bright that I even recognized him…’

If not for that, I might have completely walked past.

Does he even realize that he’s the only one who can stop the Demon Lord’s resurrection?

If he freezes to death on some street like this, the whole continent is doomed to a destruction route.

*This* is the protagonist?

In the original story, Allen was immature at this point, but was he *this* bad…

‘This is complicated.’

Actually, I had a pretty good guess as to why Allen was in this state.

It must be because he lost his close friend.

There was a similar situation in the original story, after all.

Kalr the Hammer, he was a character who was originally destined to die during the invasion event.

The death of a rival, friend, like a brother.

After experiencing the loss of someone precious for the first time, Allen spent some time wallowing in a state of loss.

‘Judging by how he avoided my gaze as soon as we met… it seems there’s another reason too, though.’

I sighed and bent down.

Then, I roughly grabbed his collar, forcing his limp body upwards.

“Uh, uh…?”

Allen stood up, making a bewildered sound.

I stood him upright.

He seemed to wobble on his feet for a moment, before regaining his balance.

“You look like a goddamn beggar.”

How long had the guy been rolling around on the ground? His outer coat was a mess, covered in dirt and dust.

I clicked my tongue openly, brushing the grime off his clothes.

My touch was a little too rough, it might have hurt, but that wasn’t my problem.

“……”

Alan was frozen stiff.

He probably didn’t expect me to react like this.

Truth be told, it’s not like I wanted to fuss over him either.

I wanted to punch him square in the face right now, but… today wasn’t the day for that.

It was a day to remember those who had gone.

We needed a little peace and quiet, to honor their spirits properly.

Conversations could wait.

Whether it was to receive an apology, exact a price, or beat him to a pulp.

“Get your head on straight.”

I said, looking at his unfocused golden eyes.

“If you want to protect something, you can’t waver… standing around like a fool will only make you lose more.”

Alan had also lost someone precious.

He probably spent the whole day blaming himself, crying his eyes out, but I wasn’t cruel enough to punch him out over it.

Especially since this guy was the protagonist.

The protagonist who, in that hell of a past life… gave me some small comfort now and then.

Even though my resentment is much greater now.

That didn’t erase the gratitude from those days, though.

If not for the story you, Changho-hyung, passed on to me, my life wouldn’t have had a single speck of light.

Of course, I had no intention of letting the guy off easy.

I was fully intent on making him pay.

He was going to have a hard time.

“I haven’t forgotten what happened… you said you’d take responsibility then. If you really want to apologize, come back with your group.”

“Hah, but, Young Master… I’m not worthy of…”

“I’m tired. I don’t want to listen to your whining.”

“……”

“I’ll be going now.”

I roughly cut the conversation short and turned away.

It felt like my fatigue had reached its limit.

I’d been busy since morning with the memorial service, and I’d even gone to see my teacher.

I felt a listless gaze behind me, but I let it go.

I simply trudged through the night air.