355 – Afterword: Dragon Heart

What becomes of a leashed wild beast?

-Evil god, I shall not bow before you!

At first, resistance. Free will, what a sweet, sonorous word.

How could one abandon the value of thinking and acting for oneself, of forging one’s own destiny? So it had to snarl and fight back.

Each time it writhed against the confines of the leash, skin chafed and blood flowed. But the more it struggled, the tighter the leash became. Not only its own leash, but those of others as well.

-Airi, why…?

-Darling, because you deny Him. I have no choice but to atone in your stead. If I can diminish your sins with my fingers, how could I hesitate…?

When it saw the fingers of its beloved being severed, it stopped snarling. It began to feel that struggle was futile.

If it could not overcome it, it should have resigned itself earlier. It was foolish and would not cease thrashing about; thus blood flowed. Lessons are always engraved with scars.

If its rebellion brings misfortune to everyone around it, then what reason is there to fight back? At last, the once-free youth accepted the leash. It accepted the existence of the great god who held fate in his hand.

But the master holding the leash did not desire subservience. He desired amusement.

-Your Majesty, the Empress… has passed.

-Is that so.

Whether one rebelled or not, the leash tightened painfully. Escape from the pain was impossible. Adaptation and resignation were all that remained.

As blood flowed and hardened, then flowed again, at some point the leash and skin would fuse completely, to the point where even the pain was forgotten.

Strangled breaths became unnaturally raspy, but one deceived oneself, claiming it had been so since birth. One became one with the leash.

All will was lost. One was dragged along by the direction of the leash, without so much as a scream. For the strength to scream had vanished.

Exhausted. Utterly exhausted.

And so, only the charred, skeletal ash remained, wearing the crown.

……..

This world is a puppet show, and I am a puppet. Lamentations and wails change nothing. My sons and daughters will all suffer due to absurd fates, and there is no way to prevent it.

Therefore, I gave neither love nor happiness. These are emotions that make a person suffer more. To live as a puppet, it would be better to have an empty, vacant heart.

Live.

The god watching over the Empire will not allow escape through death, nor will he permit a life of freedom. From beginning to end, your fates are in the grasp of another’s hand.

Live.

Nothing can be decided. One can only live, swaying in the blowing wind. Thus, the Emperor could only convey a single, rough word to his children.

He could only tell them to live.

—

I bet he won’t believe it. I had a hunch.

Even if I said that some evil god, or evil dragon, had crawled into my head and was sealed there, the Emperor wouldn’t believe me.

Because it seemed like he’d been betrayed by such expectations more than once or twice.

You know how it is? When a murderer releases a hostage, only to stab them with a knife just as they are about to escape, clinging to hope.

*Did you really think I’d let you go?* he’d say, plunging them into despair.

It seemed like I’d undergone that sort of tempering dozens of times in my life. If I went to the Emperor and prattled on like this, he’d just think the evil god was playing tricks again, and dismiss it. A pity, that.

A person who cannot escape, even with the leash undone.

So, how could I offer him salvation? What approach would persuade him? I floated against the palace ceiling, pondering.

And then I recalled.

If he believes, then exploit that belief.

I’ll act like the evil god. From now on, I am the evil god. And I’ll give a reason… a reason that the Emperor can accept. A reason to stop playing with this world and retreat.

I prepared various theatrics, hypnotized the knights patrolling the palace to chase them away so they wouldn’t interrupt, and then revealed myself before the Emperor.

To rouse this elder from his long, drawn-out nightmare.

—

The Imperial Audience Chamber.

The Emperor, entombed on his throne, sensed an anomaly. The honor guard, arrayed to his left and right, began to retreat—without so much as a single command given.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Footsteps, layering upon each other, became a singular sound. The knights vanished from the audience chamber in unison, leaving the Emperor alone, without escort.

And then—the doors of the Audience Hall swung open, and from the far end of the crimson carpet, a man with raven-black hair strode forth.

Soft tread. Soft tread.

With each step, his form flickered and wavered. He was a butterfly, a dragon, a young girl, an old man, a youth all at once.

Not even the most skilled illusionist could empty the audience chamber with a mere flick of the wrist. The Emperor knew, as naturally as breathing, that the God of the Empire had returned.

He spoke.

“I’ve grown weary of the Empire.”

“⋯⋯⋯⋯.”

“For too long, it’s been the same genre on repeat. No matter how delicious the delicacies, one tires of eating the same thing, day in and day out. I’m tired of empires, and kingdoms too. I need… something more, a new era, perhaps.”

“A new… era, you say?”

*Swish.*

A chair materialized from thin air. He crossed his legs with a languid air and began to expound upon his grand design.

His expression, so pure and innocent. The Emperor could not help but shudder at the chilling mischief in it.

“Emperor. Can you imagine the future? How much humanity will advance, what kind of civilizations they’ll build? You cannot, but I can see it. The next era will be cyberpunk.”

“⋯⋯⋯⋯.”

“Elf networks, the advancement of magic and technology, the powerful hoarding all the wealth, skyscrapers so tall the stars are obscured… and in the shadows beneath, the mold of unethicality blooming. It excites me, just to imagine it.”

*Whirr.* A tableau of misery flashed before him. People addicted to drugs, people holed up in their rooms, staring only at screens, heightened societal problems, people ground down in factories.

He couldn’t understand it all. There were too many unfamiliar images and words.

But the Emperor could glean the core of his expectations. He was speaking of a new kind of hell.

“Perhaps we’ll enjoy a variety of stories. Wonderful, isn’t it? Wonderful to the point that it’s hard to wait. Which is why… I won’t wait. I will enter a hibernation.”

“⋯⋯Hibernation, you say?”

“Yes. I plan to sleep in a cave for about five hundred years. Sleep is so convenient, isn’t it? I’ll just close my eyes and open them, and a brand-new era will be unfolding right before me.”

Hibernation…

A ripple spread through the Emperor’s mind. A very slight, almost imperceptible ripple. The being before him noticed the emotional stirring at once, and said:

“Why, does it seem like you might be able to harbor hope?”

“⋯⋯⋯⋯.”

“It’s true, isn’t it. You’re already a broken, worn-out toy, and I have no intention of waiting five hundred years with my eyes open for such a thing. I’ll skip the boring parts. You all will gain a moment of freedom, perhaps.”

So it was. The reason He hadn’t shown Himself for so long was because He was bored? Like a child, had He grown weary?

A flick.

As He moved His finger, the Dragon Heart, stored behind the throne, floated into the air. It drifted lazily, settling into His hand.

The Dragon Heart was a linchpin. Guaranteeing unconditional talent to the Imperial descendants, a linchpin to manage the empire, lest it crumble.

If He were to take such a thing, truly… Was He planning to abandon the empire and sink into a deep slumber? Would humanity grasp freedom, for however brief a time?

He rose from His seat and said,

“Tend to my playground well. Emperor. The strata of time you build in peace, it will be my gift for when I wake in five hundred years.”

Whoosh.

And then, He vanished like a mirage.

Whether you accept it or not, it will be so—a declaration, a pronouncement, and then He was gone.

…Could it be true?

After a moment, the Imperial Knights returned to their posts, eyes glazed. The elderly Emperor remained frozen for quite some time, before rising from the throne.

Unbelievable.

Leaning on his staff, he went behind the throne. He groped with his hand, but the space where the Dragon Heart had rested was empty. Gone. Truly gone.

The Emperor of the Empire slumped into His seat, at a loss. The leash was gone. Yet the sensation of it still remained, constricting His neck, though He could not grasp it just yet…

One week later.

The Emperor began to cultivate a potted plant.

—

The preparations for the Second Prince Irid’s Imperial Succession Ceremony were proceeding smoothly. Seeing the Bureau of Defense personnel scurrying about, there seemed to be quite a lot to prepare.

Of course, it was the seat change of the Imperial Emperor, so the coronation event had to be prepared. A place to accommodate the nobles gathered from all regions had to be created, and an after-party had to be held.

I loitered beside Irid, who was busily slashing through a mountain of documents.

“Can I really… have this?”

“Yes.”

“No take-backs, promise?”

“You mad mage, this is the ninety-seventh time you’ve asked. I’m starting to seriously consider killing you, so won’t you stop?”

It’s just so hard to believe.

I rolled the Dragon Heart over the back of my hand. How this magical, organic engine was constructed, it constantly generated a truly dizzying amount of magical power.

With this, I could really open a virtual reality MMORPG server throughout the empire. There were so many, many things I could do. I could probably bring Centra and my other NPC friends out permanently…

“One? I could pull out a hundred Centras and still have room to spare.”

And… it wasn’t as dangerous as I’d imagined.

Logically, this was supposed to be the heart of a wicked dragon. I thought it might suddenly snap its eyes open and roar, ‘I shall seize your body!’ I was braced for anything.

But this Dragon Heart was sealed. By none other than my past self.

This foul dragonling possessed the power to overwrite the names of those it marked. The First Prince’s name, the young knight’s name, and my own. To completely usurp them.

Irid had told me a story about this. He claimed to have had the following conversation with the First Prince, long ago:

“Brother, your name is so strange. It’s so unique. Is it because you’re going to be the Emperor?”

“An interesting notion, Irid, but no. It’s the other way around…?”

Like hacking someone’s ID and changing their nickname to your own. To ■■■.

But now, no one remembers that name, no one can even conjure it. I’d thought the wicked dragon had erased its own name, but now I know the truth.

My past self had wiped it away.

As a result, this Dragon Heart was in a state of ‘logged out.’ It needed to have its name entered to properly function, to seize my body and all that, but the name field was empty, leaving it feeling like a guest account.

Which meant.

As long as I didn’t recall its name, I was safe.

Now I understood why I could never remember people’s names, no matter how hard I tried. My past self had put in an extra failsafe, just in case. Not a mental disorder.

I could remember the names of players who entered and exited the session because I could see them not as people, but as characters in a story—like game avatars.

“……….”

In other words, I may have uttered Yuna, Yuri, and Selvier’s names countless times…

But I had never truly spoken their ‘names.’

Someday, I wanted to call them properly. To do that, I’d need to steel myself, beat this thing, and find a way to get rid of it. Luckily, I had a plan. I tucked the Dragon Heart into my coat and stood up.

“Your Highness, I’m leaving.”

“Good riddance.”

But first… perhaps I should go help a friend.

—

Crownhold, Headquarters of the Capital Knight Order.

“Kyyyyyyaaakkk!”

The knight in charge of screaming duties flung aside the 『Blue Rose』 files, wailing in despair. That such a beautiful person was, in fact, a man! What kind of tragedy was this?

But there was an even more crucial question at hand. Whether or not they should continue to pursue the illicit vigilante group, 『Blue Rose』.

“The Capital Knight Commander and 『Blue Rose』 have been sighted at a nearby cafe! It seems… they’re on a date!”

“….The『Blue Rose』 we’ve been chasing turns out to be Duke Redburn! So, what are we supposed to do? Should we continue…pursuing him?”

“What about the Knights Commander, then?”

“Ughhh…”

A conundrum. They were forced to weigh justice against flexibility, their superior against stark reality.