Leaving

A night breeze slipped into the main room through the crack in the door, causing the oil lamp flame to flicker.

Ruby sat on the bench, swinging her legs, her emerald eyes staring at the empty air after the light screen dissipated. She was silent for a few seconds before speaking, her voice softer than usual.

"Hmm... I guess you could say I feel a little sorry for him."

She hugged her knees, rested her chin on them, and let her fiery red curly hair fall down.

"These people were born in orphanages and didn't receive a good education, unlike nobles like me who have everything we could want... They were raised as weapons, and after finally having a few decades of peace, the organization has probably already forgotten about them."

She tilted her head.

"But it seems like you can't entirely blame anyone. That 'old man,' he was strictly carrying out his mission at first, ostensibly assassinating enemies for the Empire. In the end, didn't he... um... maybe he was brainwashed too? Uh, no, but there were clearly many people he was supposed to kill who shouldn't have been killed... This is so confusing..."

She didn't continue, but simply murmured "Mmm".

Lowell leaned against the wall, not looking at Ruby, his gaze fixed on the flickering lamplight on the table.

"You're pretty easygoing, Ruby. Yes, it's chaotic. Human politics is troublesome; right and wrong are hard to distinguish."

His voice was low, carrying his usual languidness.

"Having never experienced education or been brainwashed, they finally lived a peaceful life for decades..."

He paused, and gave a very slight, cold smile.

"Actually, it's somewhat similar to the coexistence of humans and demons that I've always pursued. Aren't Demons also uneducated? Most of them are born to fight, unable to survive without deceiving humans, so they've integrated deceiving humans and killing into their survival instincts, and they don't know any other way to live."

He raised his eyes, his dark pupils devoid of emotion in the dim light.

"But... I don't want to get involved with this Radaal. It doesn't matter to me what he does."

His voice deepened slightly, and he spoke each word clearly.

"Given that he targeted Frieren, I'm being lenient by not killing him."

There was a moment of silence in the main room.

The wick of the oil lamp popped open, releasing a few tiny sparks.

Himmel sat opposite him, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together. He looked at Lowell, remained silent for a moment, and then spoke. His voice was steady, with a hint of contemplation.

"Well, so what does Lowell plan to do?"

Lowell crossed his arms, rested the back of his head against the wall, and stared at the dark beams.

I don't care.

He answered readily.

"Liletta is on watch outside. As for the arrangements—"

He turned his head to look at Himmel, a very faint, almost mischievous glint flashing in his dark eyes.

"It all depends on our hero!"

Himmel paused for a moment, then chuckled. He raised a hand and scratched the back of his blue hair, his smile a mixture of helplessness and understanding.

"This is really a big problem for me."

He lowered his hand, tapped his fingertips lightly on his knee, and lowered his gaze, as if carefully weighing his options. A few seconds later, he raised his eyes, and that bright smile returned to his face, only now there was a hint of calm in his eyes.

"Anyway, you should rest now. We still have a long journey ahead tomorrow."

He stood up, stretched, and his bones cracked slightly.

"Alright, alright, the story's over, everyone should go to sleep! Staying up late is the enemy of beauty! As for keeping watch... I, the great hero Himmel, will take on that!"

Ruby jumped off the bench and patted her skirt.

"That's right! I'm going to sleep!"

After a quick tidy-up, the group returned to their assigned rooms. Only the oil lamps burned quietly in the main room, their flickering light casting long, swaying shadows on the walls.

Night deepened.

The village fell asleep, with only the occasional bark of a dog in the distance, which was quickly swallowed up by the wind.

The next morning, the sky was overcast, with only a hint of dawn breaking over the eastern mountain ridge. The air was crisp and cool, carrying the scent of morning dew and earth.

Lowell and his group finished packing and left the old house where they had stayed.

There were hardly any people on the village road yet, only a few chimneys beginning to emit wisps of smoke. Footsteps sounded clear in the quiet morning.

They didn't go to the Village Chief's house to say goodbye, but walked straight towards the village entrance.

As they passed the Village Chief's slightly larger house, Lowell, walking ahead, didn't stop or even turn his gaze. Frieren walked beside him, her silver head slightly lowered, as if deep in thought, without looking up. Fern and Methode followed quietly. Himmel walked slightly behind, her gaze calmly sweeping over the tightly closed gate, her steps equally unhurried.

Only Ruby, as she passed by, glanced in that direction with her turquoise eyes, then quickly looked away.

Inside the courtyard gate.

Radaal stood motionless in front of his house.

He was still wearing the same black clothes he had worn the night before, his back ramrod straight, like a javelin driven into the ground. His weathered eyes gazed toward the courtyard gate, yet seemed unfocused, merely watching the square patch of sky gradually brightening, cut off by the gate.

In the backyard, there seemed to be a patch of soil that had been disturbed, and a broken dagger was buried there.

Unlike decades ago, Radaal did not go to the mailbox every morning to check if any mail had been delivered.

He just stood there.

The wife came out of the house, holding a rag, and wiped the door frame. Her movements were natural, her gaze sweeping over her husband's still back before turning to the empty village road outside the courtyard gate.

In the distance, the figures of those adventurers just turned the corner of the intersection and disappeared behind the houses.

The footsteps were very light and quickly faded away.

After wiping the door frame, the wife draped the rag over her arm. She turned to face her husband's profile, her voice calm, as if she were recounting an ordinary, everyday matter.

"Aren't you checking if there's any mail coming in today?"

Radaal turned around.

He looked at his wife, his expression unchanged, his brows not furrowed, and his lips not moving. But deep within his eyes, something slowly, very slowly settled, revealing a more solid layer of rock beneath.

"... You knew all along?"

His voice was a little hoarse, but very steady.

His wife looked at him; her gray hair gleamed softly in the morning light. A faint smile appeared on her face, a smile that carried the gentle understanding of years gone by.

"... Who knows?"

She neither admitted nor denied it.

Radaal gazed at her, at the fine wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, at the calm curve of her lips. He looked for a long time, until the eastern sky brightened a bit more, the morning light climbed onto the eaves, slanted into the courtyard, and illuminated the dust motes floating in the air.

He exhaled a long breath. The breath was short and quickly dissipated into the cool air.

He didn't ask any more questions.

His wife also looked away, gazing at the sky above the yard, which was gradually turning a clear blue. She squinted, her voice becoming lighter.

"What a beautiful day."

Radaal looked up, following her gaze.

The sky was a clean, clear blue, with a faint golden-red tinge at the edges. There were no clouds, and although the sun had not yet fully risen above the mountain ridge, its light had already spread, clearly outlining the distant mountain ranges.

A morning breeze carries the scent of green grass from the distant fields.

He gazed at the sky, at the scenery he had seen for decades, a landscape he knew to the core.

"... yes."

He said in a low voice.

The sound fell into the morning breeze and quickly dissipated.

The wife turned and went back into the house, picked up a broom, and began sweeping the fallen leaves in the yard. The broom made a soft, rhythmic rustling sound as it swept across the ground.

Radaal stood at the door for a while longer.

Then he turned around, walked to the old rattan chair under the eaves, and slowly sat down. The rattan chair creaked softly under its weight.

He leaned back in his chair, raised his hand, and shielded his eyes from the increasingly glaring morning light. Through his fingers, light filtered down, casting flickering, dappled patterns on his face.

He closed his eyes.

In the distance, towards the village entrance, there was no one left.

Only the wind continues to blow across the fields, brush past the treetops, carrying the scent of grass and earth, heading towards the distant, unseen mountains.