Astaire left the meeting hall and headed straight to the cemetery behind the temple grounds.
It was where heroes, paladins, and clerics who had died fighting for the world were laid to rest.
And it was also where he had buried Ruel.
Three years ago, after receiving Ruel’s body from Rashiel, Astaire had brought her remains to the Holy Nation and buried her here.
He and the other three heroes had survived to bask in glory—but all he could give her was a place among the honored dead.
Every time he came to the Holy Nation, he visited this place. And now, he found her headstone immediately.
「Ruel Iris」
As he stared at the name etched into the stone, Astaire’s eyes twisted with pain.
“The Demon Lord killed Ruel.”
He had been there for her final battle. He had watched her die with his own eyes.
And yet…
“Why am I hesitating… even with the Demon Lord right in front of me?”
Even now, as he thought of Elsez, a sharp ache tugged at his chest. The mere thought of her dying made him feel as though the world was slipping away.
He hated how pathetic it was.
His fists clenched tightly.
Then—
Footsteps behind him. A familiar voice.
“So this is what that face was about.”
It was Cassian.
Astaire, who had known Cassian was following him, didn’t flinch. He simply turned his eyes back to the grave.
Cassian stepped beside him, and his expression hardened when he saw Ruel’s name carved into the stone.
“I didn’t come because I care or anything. The newbie was worried. Said you didn’t look okay.”
Astaire’s eyes flickered faintly. A bitter smile touched his lips.
She has no idea what I’m thinking when I look at her…
She was worried for someone who might one day be her killer.
But even more foolish than her… was himself, feeling grateful for her concern.
A heavy silence fell as he gazed at Ruel’s grave.
Then at last, he spoke.
“Cassian… what would you do if you found the Demon Lord?”
“What kind of question is that? Kill her, obviously. So thoroughly she wouldn’t even want to come back.”
“…Right. Of course.”
“What? You scared?”
Astaire didn’t answer.
Cassian, taking that silence as confirmation, gently brushed a withered leaf off Ruel’s gravestone.
“Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone else die this time.”
The leaf drifted to the ground, light and slow.
Astaire’s eyes followed it—
And noticed a small black scrap of cloth beneath the stone.
What’s that…?
It had been pinned under the gravestone, and its dark color blended in with the stone itself. The caretakers must have missed it.
Normally, Astaire would’ve missed it too. But something about it tugged at him.
He reached down and carefully pulled it free.
His eyes widened.
This is…
A frayed, worn hair tie.
Ruel’s.
He didn’t remember every one she used—she had many—but this one he recognized.
Because he had placed it in her coffin himself.
Why is this… here?
That hair tie should’ve been sealed in the coffin, not lying outside beneath the gravestone.
Noticing the look on Astaire’s face, Cassian approached.
“What’s wrong?”
But before he could see the hair tie, a soft voice interrupted them.
“So you two were here after all.”
Cassian instinctively turned toward the voice.
Dike stood there.
Astaire quickly slipped the hair tie into his palm and, together with Cassian, turned to face her.
“Lady Dike.”
She stepped closer and looked down at Ruel’s headstone with sad eyes.
“Three years ago, we lost our most righteous and kind comrade.”
The “comrade” she spoke of was the person buried here.
Cassian bit his lip, overcome by memories.
Astaire, meanwhile, tightened his grip around the hair tie and forced his turbulent thoughts down.
Dike continued.
“And before that, we lost countless others—family, friends, allies.”
“……”
“I’ve never once forgotten their sacrifices. And I never will.”
Just as she said, she often visited the cemetery when time allowed.
Astaire, having observed her closely as a cardinal, knew this well.
“Staring into empty places and remembering the dead—it’s a terrible kind of pain.”
“……”
“That kind of sorrow must never be repeated. It has to end with our generation.”
Her voice held both sorrow and a grim, unwavering determination.
They had to kill the Demon Lord.
“I’ve heard those words before…”
So why—
Why did they suddenly sound so alien to him now?
Dike turned her eyes from the grave and looked at the two of them.
“I’m sorry for always placing such heavy burdens on your shoulders.”
“It’s nothing. In the end, we chose this path ourselves.”
Cassian waved off her apology with a light gesture.
The three of them stood a little longer to honor Ruel, then turned to leave together.
Just before parting ways at the cemetery gates, Cassian and Astaire bowed to Dike.
She, however, chose not to return the gesture.
“I can’t say much yet—it’s still being prepared—but I think I’ll have good news to share soon.”
“Good news?”
Cassian blinked in confusion, but Dike only smiled.
“You’ll like it.”
Leaving them puzzled, she walked away.
Astaire watched her retreating figure in silence until Cassian gave him a light tap.
“Come on. Let’s go.”
They returned to the temple building together.
Once Cassian left to go train, Astaire pulled out the hair tie he had hidden in his hand.
…It’s definitely Ruel’s.
As he examined it, footsteps approached.
It was Lancelot—his shadow, his right hand.
Astaire didn’t turn.
Instead, his voice came low, quieter than usual.
“Lancelot. What I’m about to order is top secret. Between you and me only.”
Astaire had never issued a confidential command before.
Lancelot swallowed hard, tension rising.
“…I await your command.”
“Track Miss Elsez within the temple. If she meets with the Saintess, report to me immediately. And…”
His voice hesitated.
Only for a moment.
Then it turned sharp again.
“Find out if Ruel’s grave was ever disturbed or relocated.”
*****
Around noon, the priest who had killed Henry the night before returned to the prison.
He had sensed that something wasn’t going according to plan.
Why is the temple so quiet?
A hero, revealed to have cooperated with the Demon Lord’s cult, had taken poison and committed suicide.
If things had gone as expected, the temple should’ve been in an uproar since morning. But instead, it was calm—serenely peaceful, just like the day before.
A sense of unease crept up his spine.
The guard stationed at the entrance spotted him and saluted politely.
“What brings you here, sir?”
“Working hard, even through lunch, I see. Has anything unusual happened in the prison?”
“No, sir. All’s quiet.”
The young, new prison guard replied brightly. The priest’s expression stiffened.
He hasn’t seen the body yet?
He asked another question.
“Have meals been delivered to the prisoner?”
“Yes, sir. Once in the morning, and once just a short while ago. Two meals total.”
It was possible they assumed Henry had been asleep and left the morning meal untouched. But if the lunch tray was still sitting there untouched too, the guard should’ve noticed something odd.
Yet the guard seemed completely unaware.
No way…
The priest bit his lip, dread coiling in his chest, and stepped into the prison.
Each footstep echoed with growing anxiety.
And finally, when he reached the cell where Henry was being held—
A sharp breath escaped him.
“Good morning.”
Henry was sitting there, completely unharmed.
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