0 – Prologue

Rough cobblestones.

Those clad in black mourning garb carry a wooden coffin, walking.

“They come.”

Survivors, returned from the frayed edge of a war’s storm.

Their faces, worn and haggard, pushed by the heavy wind.

Within the coffin they carry, lies a great swordsman who stood against the demonic invasion.

Yet, despite their glorious return, no one came to greet them but me.

Normally, I too would have been absent.

But this time, I could not.

For the woman within that coffin.

Was my wife.

“……”

I greet them in silence.

They, too, slightly lower their heads as they meet my gaze.

“We greet the Ink Sword.”

Ink Sword.

A moniker given to me for wielding a sword through writing.

“We learned so much because of you.”

“The books the Ink Sword wrote were a great help to the soldiers on the front lines as well.”

“It’s embarrassing to hear such things from you knights.”

A bitter smile escapes me.

All that I, who could not wield a sword, could do was formulate theories and put them to paper.

“Lay her down here.”

Behind them.

I spoke with a wry smile to those about to enter the small fortress.

“There’s no one to welcome you, so entering wouldn’t garner you any better treatment.”

At my words, their expressions tightened with emotion as they nodded and gently lowered the coffin.

“Have you a place to go?”

“……”

There was no reply.

Though, that was not strange.

“Indeed, which one of us has a place to reach?”

“May you fare well.”

They bowed to me and then departed.

Perhaps we will never meet again.

I am simply grateful for their final loyalty in moving the coffin here.

The burial place I had prepared beforehand was a small clearing near the castle.

Though not far in distance, it took as long as the setting sun to rise again to get there.

“I apologize, as you know, I cannot use one of my legs.”

Moving the coffin with a cane took longer than I had anticipated.

I moved the coffin right next to the pit I had dug beforehand.

Pearls of sweat running down my cheek gleamed like pearls in the sunrise.

When they gathered at my jawline and fell on the coffin, I chuckled and swept my hand across its surface once.

“The most precious jewel I can offer you.”

Creak.

I slowly opened the coffin.

Artificial roses were arranged as decorations.

Nestled within the flowers, a beautiful woman with hands clasped together had closed her eyes.

Rianna Helmund.

The eldest daughter of the great house, Helmund.

An exceptional swordsman who had punished countless villains, and butchered the Transcendents.

The one I had truly loved.

My wife.

“A full decade it’s been, yet you are still radiant.”

A hollow laugh escapes me.

I’ve heard she was on the battlefield for quite a long time, but she’s as lovely as if she’s just returned from a ball.

She emits a strong fragrance of roses, so it appears magic was used to treat her remains.

“I thought there would be many reunions I wanted to unravel, but upon seeing you, I find I have little to say.”

Even with the corpse laid out before me, a clumsy awkwardness has me staring blankly at the rising sun.

“Did you ever wonder why I ran?”

Five years of marriage.

At its end, I chose to flee.

The reason was simple enough.

The birth-blooded of the Helmunt household, who oppressed me for being a commoner.

And Rianna, who, as if disappointed in me, chose to stand aside.

“I held so much resentment for you, did you resent me too?”

Even after a full ten years had passed, we’ve met like this.

“Or did you laugh, feeling relieved?”

We’ve reached an end that’s too awkward to call a reunion, in any sense.

“There’s nothing as meaningless as a question with no answer, is there.”

Still.

If I had to pick the thing I was most curious about.

“Were you–”

Right until the very end.

Wielding that massive greatsword.

Even in the moment she breathed her last.

“Still the great Helmunt?”

A woman who lived solely for the sake of Helmunt.

And thus, a cruel woman who abandoned her own husband.

“Heh, hahaha.”

A hollow laugh escaped.

A relationship that was already finished.

It felt like a definite closing of the book on it all.

“In this moment, you might be laughing too?”

A farewell to a woman who used to smile like a rose in bloom.

For her, who had already shaken off all lingering attachments and lived on, I wanted to punctuate the end, all the same.

“Farewell, for good.”

Releasing the hands laid together, I gently grasped hers.

The alien weight on my fingers.

Between the calluses, built from a lifetime of wielding a sword, she wore it.

A paltry ring.

On the ring finger of her left hand.

The only dowry. Scorned for its cheapness, even after I, a commoner, had spent all I had.

Our wedding ring.

Seeing it still there, on Rianna’s left ring finger.

“…….”

Speechless for a moment, I merely stared down at it, dumbfounded.

“You…”

A sigh escaped me, followed by a bitter laugh.

“You confound me to the very end.”

* * *

“Hmm?”

The right leg that ached every morning was fine.

The cane by the bed was not there, not when I flailed my hand for it.

My body, that had begun to creak in my late thirties, was smooth, as though oiled.

“Where…?”

It was my room.

Or, more precisely, the room I’d used ten years ago, in Helmont.

My wife and I, of course, had separate rooms, and I had used the guest room.

Back then, that had felt a little lonely. Like she was drawing a line, saying we weren’t family.

I look at the mirror in the room.

It was Isaac.

Myself from ten years ago.

Smooth skin and neatly kept dark hair.

An appearance that often drew whispers of ‘handsome’.

And a working leg.

The disability I’d lived with for a decade, gone.

“A dream?”

It felt just like a dream, a waking one at that.

Yet, more unbelievable than the dream itself, was that he had returned to the old Hellmunt.

*Click,* *creak.*

“Brother-in-law!?”

Just then, the door opened and a man stepped inside.

Red hair, sharp features—the very image of Hellmunt.

Tall and striking, he was the third son of Hellmunt.

Alois Hellmunt.

“Alois?”

He looked exactly as he was in his memory.

In Hellmunt, he was one of the very few who showed him kindness.

“What are you doing! My sister’s been waiting!”

“Sister, as in, Rianna?”

“What’s with you today? You were working hard with me yesterday getting ready for your anniversary!”

Anniversary?

He had worked with Alois?

Familiar words aligned, forming a natural sentence.

‘Fourth wedding anniversary?’

It was a year before Isaac escaped Hellmunt.

“I helped you, so she’ll love it, no doubt. You worked so hard, too.”

Yes, he had.

Isaac chuckled, a hollow sound, looking at Alois.

His last effort, aimed at restoring their fractured marriage.

Also.

‘The trap that sent me further down the drain.’

From this day forward, neither Rianna, his wife, nor anyone from Hellmunt expected anything of Isaac.

‘The day my leg was broken in that accident.’

Which rendered him unable to wield a sword, thus earning him the title of the Mute Blade.

And.

The one who stole my legs is here now.

“Haa! Brother-in-law! Pleeease! Hurry! My sister is going to be really, seriously angry!”

He’s urging me on.