TOM Chapter 12

A bored voice cut through my explanation.

This guy must have been a poor student.

Kruelo's good report card almost surfaced in my memory, but I quickly scattered the thought.

It's a delusion!

"Anyway, I know. But why does that matter?"

"Have you been there?"

"......"

"Have you been there?"

"......Tch."

Has he been there himself?

As far as I knew, Kruelo had never gone either, but there were four years between Biga and Siora, so I couldn't be certain.

In that time, he'd changed fiancées eight times—what would be impossible for him?

As if reading my thoughts, Kruelo curved the corners of his eyes in a smile.

"Want to go together?"

"......Why?"

"I told you."

He wanted to try creating an atmosphere.

The Harvest Festival.

I'd forgotten about it for a while, but there were times I'd wanted to see it.

Back when I was Amy.

"Sorry, Amy. You could go alone and it'd be fine."

"Forget it. What's the point of seeing it alone without you?"

If I were to describe Kruelo's growth process in one sentence, it would be this:

'A bean grew into a monster pumpkin.'

Young Roy had been a bean.

Gentle and weak-willed, he listened well to others.

He obediently followed the adults' orders not to leave the estate, and naturally couldn't go out to see festivals either.

I found that somewhat regrettable.

Though it wasn't a huge disappointment.

"We can see that much even from here."

We climbed the large tree in the duke's garden to watch the festival.

Multicolored fireworks blooming brilliantly across the sky.

Dazzling lights that the magicians had created purely for the sake of beauty.

"Roy, what do you think?"

"It seems really pretty."

"Roy?"

"Ah. Not 'seems'—it is pretty. It would have been nice if we could see it up close."

Roy smiled with flushed cheeks.

I smiled along with the child, but I couldn't bring myself to agree.

I knew that even if time passed without incident, Amy wouldn't live to become an adult.

I thought I'd never have a chance to go to the Harvest Festival.

Yet time flowed on, and here I was at the Harvest Festival in an adult's body.

The cute and charming Roy was nowhere to be found—instead, I was with the adult Kruelo.

"Why are you staring at me like that?"

"It's devastating."

Who had made that adorable child become like this?

Those council bastards—I'll make them pay when I get my hands on them.

Kruelo just shrugged his shoulders, looking puzzled.

We wore only hooded robes, just the two of us without any guards.

We'd even deactivated our recognition-prevention magical tools.

I'd agreed without hesitation to Kruelo's proposal, though he hadn't explained his reasons.

Why had I done that?

"I thought I'd try creating an atmosphere."

Because I thought I understood what those words meant.

He wanted to start rumors to make it impossible to break off the engagement talks.

More directly, his purpose was probably to give the council the finger.

At least that's why I came out.

Seeing this, have Kruelo and the council definitely had a falling out?

I hope so.

Suddenly Kruelo stopped walking, and I bumped my nose against his solid back.

"Would you please—"

"Look, there's a mask that perfectly matches your taste, darling."

I reflexively turned my head.

A mask similar to the one from the puppet theater, but about three times cheaper, greeted me.

"It's not my taste."

"Then what do you like?"

It's stuffy—do I really need to wear a mask? We came out to spread rumors anyway.

While I just blinked blankly, Kruelo pointed to one of the displayed masks.

"Lion?"

"Oh!"

"How about sheep?"

"Oh......"

"Deer? Rabbit?"

"Uh......"

"The lion from before?"

"Oh!"

"Being easy to understand is nice, but please use actual words."

Kruelo picked up one of the displayed masks and handed it to me.

There was no merchant at the stall, but it was written that trying them on was allowed.

I put on the mask and looked in the mirror.

Siora's blonde hair matched perfectly with the golden mane.

"Good. Then I'll call you Your Gr—"

Wait. I shouldn't call him Your Grace, should I?

I grabbed Kruelo's arm and pulled him down, lowering my voice to ask.

"What should I call you?"

"Darling, honey, dear, my love. Oasis?"

"Don't joke around."

"I'm hurt that you think it's a joke. Then could you come up with a suitable nickname?"

"Then Roy—"

Oh no.

I'd carelessly spoken the familiar name, only realizing my mistake too late.

Kruelo's face stiffened.

I couldn't see his expression properly because of the hood, but I could see his coldly pressed lips.

I must have gotten too relaxed lately.

I carefully watched his reaction as I continued.

"I shouldn't call you that, should I?"

"......No."

Kruelo stretched his lips into a smile.

The dark expression from moments before disappeared, replaced by a clean smile.

"Call me whatever you want."

As if I could.

I nodded while silently vowing never to make that mistake again.

"Well, now that we've decided on a nickname, could you pick out a mask for me?"

"Oh my, are you a couple? That tall, lean look suits you so well!"

The merchant who'd left the stall had returned.

She looked at the mask I was wearing, then examined the displayed masks.

"Since the young lady chose a lion, then... how about a tiger? Or a wild boar?"

"What does a lion have to do with a wild boar?"

"With a lion, it's a wild boar! Don't you know that famous fairy tale?"

"Ma'am, isn't there a more delicate animal? Wild boars are too fierce."

"Eh? Is this young man really that delicate?"

No, but I wish he would become more delicate.

How would I know if wearing a herbivore's mask might make him weaker?

"Then how about this?"

And so, the lion and gazelle set out to properly enjoy the festival.

Since the lion only knew theory, the gazelle took the lead.

The first place we arrived at was a small box.

In front of it was a sign that read: 'The puppet show "The Sacrifice of Molmoro" will begin shortly.'

"......I have bad memories of puppet shows."

"I came to wash away those memories for you."

"With blood?"

"Haha, I'm joking."

How dare he dismiss my sincerity.

Kruelo sat down in a chair with an insincere laugh, and I reluctantly sat beside him.

He was right, though.

The curtain of the box opened, and the puppets that emerged were wooden figures with yarn attached—it seemed like a children's performance.

Wouldn't it be rude to the children for people with hearts as black as ours to watch this play?

Despite my unsettled feelings, palm-sized puppets came toddling onto the stage.

The narration began.

[Long, long ago, in the very distant past, the world had many gods, unlike today.]

[Among them were good gods, but there were also bad gods. People called them evil gods.]

[This is the story of one fearsome ancient evil god.]

Beep! Historical error!

There are no bad gods in the world.

As a devotee of an ancient god, I could state this with certainty.

My posture became slouched as my enthusiasm deflated early on.

[The evil god enchanted people to worship him, then used those believers as sacrifices.]

[Hundreds upon hundreds of people were sacrificed to the evil god.]

[From somewhere, a hero appeared who noticed these evil deeds.]

[That person was none other than Saint Molmoro of Rekaenon!]

Rekaenon—I knew that name too.

The true name of the god of order.

He supposedly didn't get along with my god.

Specifically, it was a problem between the religious orders, but since it was from hundreds of years ago, I wasn't particularly interested.

[The holy war began.]

[After a long war, Molmoro finally drove out and defeated the evil god's saint.]

[But Molmoro didn't escape unharmed either.]

The Molmoro puppet collapsed, and the children watching in front screamed.

Some even started crying.

Their focused attention on that tiny puppet was cute and amusing.

[Fortunately, thanks to Molmoro's sacrifice, no more people became sacrifices.]

[Many people came to Molmoro's grave to mourn his death. And.]

"Huh?"

All the puppets collapsed at once, and someone emerged from behind the box.

"Molmoro's will continues to this day."

Out of nowhere?

The puppeteer smiled kindly. And at that moment, white light burst forth from behind him.

It was different from mine, but unmistakably divine power.

"Why is there divine power......"

"Shh."

Kruelo placed his index finger to his lips.

Meanwhile, three more priests in white robes appeared from behind the box.

This was suspicious beyond belief.

The woman at the front began to speak.

"A descendant of Lord Molmoro lives in this land. Like their ancestor, they care for the unfortunate."

"Ah, I know!"

"I know too! That's Saint Mamik, right!"

"That's correct. This is holy water that the Saint instructed us to distribute to those celebrating the Harvest Festival."

"Wow!"

"Though the concentration is low, we pray that God's blessing be with you all."

The priest who seemed to be the lowest-ranking gave me holy water too.

I received one in my confusion.

A milk-colored liquid in a bottle the size of my pinky finger.

If I concentrated with all my might, I could barely sense faint divine power.

At this level, it was practically ineffective.

Kruelo beside me also smiled as he received the holy water.

"Thank you."

"Huh?"

And he coated the junior priest's robe hem with his mana.

Some kind of tracking magic?

Had he come here just for this?

I was dumbfounded, but couldn't show it.

The real Siora wouldn't have been able to handle mana.

"Did you really come because you wanted to see this performance?"

"Of course. I'm very interested in ancient gods."

Every time he opens his mouth, it's a lie.

"Just in case I should mention this, darling—you shouldn't use that holy water."

"......Why?"

"It's old and spoiled. I had trouble after using it before."

"Your jokes aren't funny at all."

"If you want to experiment on your own body, I won't particularly stop you."

After hearing those words, there's no way I could use it.

I hadn't planned to use it anyway.

I looked down at the holy water, feeling unnecessarily uneasy.

In the meantime, the priests who had finished distributing the holy water disappeared as quickly as the wind.

"They look like they're running away. Though that couldn't be the case."

"They are running away."

"What?"

"It's an illegal performance, so the authorities crack down on them."

No sooner had Kruelo finished speaking than a shrill whistle sounded.

Soldiers in charge of public order came running and began searching here and there.

Really? Why?

"Priests doing an illegal performance?"

"Followers of ancient gods are heretics, so there's no way they'd get permits. The only exception is 'Mamik.'"