Chapter 52 - The Eve - 3

Renée knew. Bera was not a man who spoke nonsense. He must have considered countless things before reaching that conclusion. In all likelihood, he was right.

His words made her think back on Friede, who had spent the past few weeks with them. Personally, she did not view the elf very favorably. It was only her imagination, but the thought that Friede might be after Bera made it difficult to think well of the elf.

Yet, putting that aside, Renée found Friede pitiable. A life without knowing emotion, a life spent in such barren emptiness for a span of time no human could dare imagine, seemed terribly sad to her.

"... I have a duty to protect you, Saintess. Please take that into consideration," Bera said.

Renée tightened her grip on his hand.

"Friede... Yes, perhaps Friede is suspicious."

Rationally speaking, withdrawing now was the right course. But...

"Bera."

"... Yes."

"Is that a reason to turn our backs on the elves who live here?"

Renée believed there were things one had to uphold even at a risk, even if doing so brought harm upon oneself. The words Bera had spoken to her three years ago had now become the signpost guiding her life.

"... We don't know for certain."

Because they did not know. Whatever he said, it was ultimately conjecture. If that was so, if nothing was certain, shouldn't they believe in the possibility that remained?

"If your suspicions are wrong, the elves won't be able to stop the Noir, and that will be the end of them."

It was Bera himself who had taught her that. When she had been mired in despair, he had told her not to let go of possibility while the future remained undecided. Those words had allowed her to stand again.

And so Renée felt sadness. It saddened her that Bera, who had become her light, was trying to turn away from others like this.

She heard teeth grinding in Bera's direction. With the distance between their opinions refusing to narrow, Renée spoke.

"Bera, do you remember?"

"... What are you referring to?"

"What you told me. That you were pursuing the light."

A startled tremor reached her through Bera's hand. Feeling it, Renée continued with a small smile. Her next words were almost entirely unreasonable, words that might truly put everyone in danger.

"... Does turning away from the elves because of a danger that might come help you pursue that light?"

His grip tightened hard. Renée thought he must be doing it unconsciously. After all, his hand was squeezing hers so tightly. Bera would never try to hurt her, so this tightening grip could not be deliberate.

"Bera."

"... Yes."

"Couldn't we wait and see a little longer?"

Couldn't he believe in those elves, in Friede, as he had believed in her? Couldn't he become a light for them, as he had already become hers?

Renée laid her other hand over the one that was beginning to ache and added,

"... You're strong, Bera. So couldn't you please wait and see a little longer?"

Renée did not speak of faith. She did not speak of his duty as an apostle. She spoke of nothing she did not believe in. She spoke only of the most self-evident moral duty she believed in.

"We're still all right, aren't we?"

Those with a little more to spare should give to those whose lives were harsh. Those who possessed strength should be able to protect the powerless. That was what it meant to be human, as Renée understood it. That was the duty she knew.

Once, she had been unable to believe in anything. Because of Bera, she had come to understand this duty again. Because he had sought her out, because he believed in her even when she could do nothing, she could believe in this self-evident duty.

Bera was the strongest and most upright person in her world. And he believed in her. That was why she could care for others again like this. She had become someone who could think of pursuing what was right even in the face of danger.

And so Renée wished.

"Couldn't you?"

She wished that Bera's upright light would shine upon the elves as well. That it would let them rise as she had, and live to see tomorrow.

The silence stretched on for a long time. No answer... came.

* * *

The silence lasted until they returned to Aedrin. Bera left Renée in Hella's care and went somewhere quiet and deserted, where he continued thinking as he stared blankly at the fallen leaves.

["Does that help you pursue that light?"]

Bera ran a hand over his face. He could not forget Renée's words. He felt so pathetic for having been unable to say anything when he heard them, for having only felt his heart pounding and bowed his head in shame.

At that moment, hearing Renée's words had filled him with shame. He had felt as though he had been stripped naked and thrown into the middle of a busy street. Suddenly, a weak chuckle escaped him.

'What a fucking idiot...'

Wasn't he a shameless, petty man?

He saw himself constantly boasting that he would live for Renée. He saw how, at some point, he had become so consumed by that oath that he had failed to see what truly needed seeing.

Bera asked himself what the oath had been for. What had he meant to achieve with the oath he had made at the end of his previous life, with his resolve to live for her?

'... To pursue the light.'

Perhaps even someone as vile as him could approach that light. Perhaps, by her side, he could finally become human. Perhaps he could live something worthy of being called a life. Hadn't he made that oath with those hopes? Hadn't he made it so that he could finally live a human life?

Then what was this sorry state he was in now? What was that fucking pathetic sight of him merely bowing his head, unable to say a word in answer to her question?

He had thought he had recognized his ignorance. Yet he had not even done that. He was still the petty, selfish Bera. Still Bera, too busy taking pride in his position as Renée's protector to realize that he had not changed at all.

To truly change himself, he was the one who needed to change. But without even realizing that, Bera had simply waited for Renée to change. He had waited for her to blossom as the Saintess. He had thought that would resolve everything. He had assumed that, once Renée blossomed, his own transformation would happen all by itself.

Bera recalled Renée's question once more.

["Does that help you pursue that light?"]

An action that would help him pursue his light, draw closer to it. The path he needed to take to achieve that...

'... I was wrong.'

It was not this. It was not turning away from even the most basic moral duty.

He had fallen into complacency. Content simply to remain by Renée's side, he had stopped thinking of moving forward. He had mistakenly believed that was enough.

His life... this second life was one in which he had resolved to become a protector. It was a life in which he had sworn not to make excuses to himself, to leave no regrets at the very end.

Still standing there in a daze, Bera closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He unfolded his inner landscape. It was a mire throughout, barely covered with a thin skin called ignorance.

Bera peeled away that ignorance and turned over what lay beneath the mire. He dug beneath it to bring up true ignorance, not the humility of calling himself ignorant. From the mire, he retrieved a piece of ignorance no larger than a grain of millet. The ignorance he had finally found was truly petty and unimpressive in form.

With a faint, hollow laugh, Bera carefully engraved what he had learned into that ignorance.

'Moral duty.'

There he inscribed the duty he ought to fulfill, the bedrock of the path he must walk.

Only now, seven years after inscribing his oath, had Bera finally managed to carve that single thing.

* * *

Bera went to Aedrin's roots to find Renée. He saw her leaning beneath the thickest root. His steps faltered to a stop. Recalling his shameful behavior earlier, he clenched his teeth for a moment, then approached her with deliberately loud footsteps.

"... Bera?"

Renée sprang upright as she spoke.

"... Yes, it's Bera."

"Ah... I'm sorry about earlier! You must have said all that because you were worried about me, but I only talked about my own side of things..."

As she spoke, Renée suddenly squeezed her eyes shut. While Bera had been reflecting on himself, she had been regretting the words she had spoken in the heat of the moment. Only after she was left alone had she begun to wonder whether Bera had grown tired of her.

This was the result of fretting over how she must somehow apologize. Unable to bring herself to move, Renée kept pouring out words in a tearful voice.

Watching her, Bera felt a small laugh escape him. Even after saying something unquestionably right, she worried that she might have hurt his feelings. It seemed so very like her.

He approached her one step at a time and gently took her hand while she was still pouring out words. Renée gave a startled tremble, and her words stopped.

Watching her fidget, Bera placed his other hand over their joined hands and spoke.

"I'm sorry."

Renée jolted.

"W-what for?"

Her whole body was trembling.

For some reason, Bera found the sight amusing. Letting out a faint laugh, he continued.

"I wanted to apologize for making a selfish judgment and failing to live up to your expectations, Saintess."

"Ah..."

"And I wanted to thank you. What you said was truly right. This ignorant fool was once again blinded by what lay immediately before him and failed to see what he ought to see."

Bera felt Renée's hand squirming within his grasp. For some reason, it seemed a little warm. Belatedly realizing that he was holding her hand tightly between both of his, he tried to withdraw the hand he had laid on top.

"I'm sor—"

"No!"

Renée promptly placed her other hand on top, stopping him from pulling away.

"N-no apologizing!"

Bera tilted his head.

"Ahem...! Yes! You're not allowed to apologize."

What followed was her usual scolding.

Bera nodded slightly and answered.

"... Yes."

"Hehe..."

With her laughter, Bera felt greater warmth spreading from Renée's hands against his. They were such slender, small hands.

A thought suddenly occurred to him. How was it possible? Her hands were so small and delicate, and she was still such an inexperienced girl. How could she teach him so much?

With that thought, Bera looked at Renée's face. Her eyes, bereft of light, were half concealed as she bowed her head. Her snow-white hair, which Hella always brushed smooth, stirred gently in the breeze. Her face was flushed, as always.

As he watched her, Bera somehow found himself thinking that her awkward girlishness was cute—and then he flinched.

At his reaction, Renée tilted her head and asked,

"... Um, what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

His quick reply sounded almost like an excuse. Bera lowered his head slightly and erased the irreverent thought he had entertained. Fortunately, he was a man capable of doing such a thing.