I Just Wanted a Peaceful Life… So Why Do Heroes Worship Me?

The journey back from the crater took Rei two days longer than expected.

Not because the road was treacherous—if anything, the path had cleared itself. Beasts stepped aside without prompting, trees bent gently to let him pass, and even the wild winds seemed to lower their voices when brushing past his coat. The world wasn't resisting him.

It was... watching him.

And that made him uneasy.

He arrived at the sanctuary beneath clouded skies. No one greeted him at the gate, but the lanterns were lit. The windows were warm. It was the kind of welcome one received not from people, but from the place itself—alive, aware, and quietly waiting.

Rei stepped inside and found everything in place.

The floor swept.

The kettle hot.

Kreg asleep on the table with a half-eaten honey cake beside his cheek.

Fluff blinked at him from the bookshelf, then returned to pretending he was just a beast.

Rei exhaled. Not relief, but something close.

Then Ellyn emerged from the hallway.

"You're later than your note promised," she said.

"I brought weather with me," Rei replied.

Auron peeked out next, clutching a scroll. "Did he show up?"

"Yes."

"Did he threaten you?"

"No."

"But?"

"But he remembered too much," Rei said quietly.

Ellyn studied him for a long moment. Then she nodded, turned around, and went to set the tea.

They didn't press. That was the unspoken deal—Rei kept them safe, and they didn't ask who exactly he was keeping them safe from.

The next few days passed without incident. Almost too quietly. Customers came and went—beast-tamers with nervous eyes, travelers with odd pets, a sky-singer who bartered dreams for stew. Nothing abnormal. Yet Rei noticed the rhythm had shifted.

Not the kind of shift that causes alarm.

The kind that makes you count steps before realizing you're dancing to someone else's song.

Then one morning, a ripple.

It started with the letter.

No courier. No bird.

Just a folded page set atop the tea leaves inside the locked cupboard.

Rei unfolded it.

Seven words. Neat script. No name.

"One of yours is not entirely yours."

He read it once. Then again.

The words didn't change, but they grew heavier.

He didn't tell the others. Not yet.

Instead, he watched.

Not to accuse. Not to find a traitor. Just... to see.

Ellyn remained Ellyn—sharp-eyed, calm, efficient. Kreg kept baking with stubborn joy. Auron smiled less often, but that wasn't new. And Fluff was Fluff.

Almost.

Almost.

That night, Rei stayed up long after the others had gone to sleep. He sat by the back window with no lantern lit, listening.

And around midnight, something whispered across the wards.

Not a breach.

Not an attack.

Just a... memory. Out of place.

A shape moved near the garden well.

Rei didn't move.

He simply waited.

And from the shadows, a familiar voice emerged.

"You hid well."

Rei remained still.

"Who are you watching for?" the voice asked.

"Not you," Rei replied calmly.

The figure stepped into view. Draped in moss-colored robes, hood low over a mask that resembled old bark.

"You still keep masks, I see."

The stranger chuckled. "Says the man who built an entire life as a lie."

"I built peace."

"You built distraction."

Rei rose.

And for a long moment, the sanctuary breathed with him.

"I'm not part of your game anymore," he said.

The masked one tilted his head.

"But the board never removed you."

They didn't fight.

There was no need.

The message had been delivered.

And the next move, it seemed, was his.

By morning, the figure was gone.

Only a single plum petal rested on the table.

Inside it, curled in impossibly small script, was a question:

"Which one are you willing to lose?"

Rei burned the petal without reading it a second time.

But the weight of the question didn't vanish.

It stayed with him.

Through breakfast.

Through gardening.

Through two customer visits and a sky serpent shedding feathers near the roof.

By dusk, Rei sat beneath the old plum tree and whispered to the air.

"I've been careful. Quiet. Steady."

The air didn't answer.

But Fluff lay beside him, ears flat, not sleeping.

The stillness had grown heavy again.

Not dangerous.

Not yet.

But ready.

The world was winding toward something.

And Rei, whether he liked it or not, was being asked to choose not if he would act—but when.

And for whom.