Chapter 53: Those Who Regret and Repeat the Events of That Day (1)

“Damn it, what kind of letter is this out of nowhere?”

A single letter arrived on their return journey.

The letter, bearing the royal seal, contained an unbelievable story.

The prophecy declared that Emilia, the hero, would become a traitor.

Knowing how Emilia had dreamt of travel throughout their journey, Dalton, along with Vielle and Gleon, couldn’t help but feel confused.

“Really? No way. That can’t be true!”

“Well, that’s the nature of prophecies.”

Vielle frowned as she read the letter, finding it hard to believe, while Gleon commented in his usual calm tone.

He wasn’t wrong.

Prophecies foresee future events by identifying potential elements.
Even for Gleon, who was usually cynical, a prophecy about Emilia’s betrayal was unprecedented.

However, prophecies were inviolable.

Gleon dismissed any doubts, knowing that questioning a prophecy wouldn’t solve anything.

He looked at Dalton.

“So, what are we supposed to do?”

“What… do you mean? Isn’t it obvious we should tell Emilia this can’t be true?”

Gleon turned his gaze from Dalton to Vielle, his expression tinged with disdain.

“Foolish. Do you think defending her will change anything now that a prophecy has been made?”

“It’s not a defense; it’s the truth!”

“Truth is defined by the prophecy, not by us.”

“But still…”

“Quiet, Vielle. Talking recklessly could make you an accomplice.”

Dalton intervened, ending their heated exchange.

He had taken the lead since the return journey began.

“For now, keep silent. Sending this letter to us first means they want Emilia kept in the dark.”

“What… even is this?”

Vielle asked hesitantly as Dalton burned the letter in the campfire.

The flickering flames reflected in his eyes.

Meeting Dalton’s gaze, Vielle suppressed her questions.

“Now that the prophecy has been made, Emilia is a traitor. Understand? If you speak out or try to defend her, you’ll be labeled a traitor too.”

Dalton’s words prompted Gleon to nod in agreement.

Vielle could only lower her head in resignation.

With the prophecy in place, all she could do was accept fate—just like Dalton and Gleon.

“Hey, everyone! Look at this!”

Emilia returned from hunting, holding a few rabbits and waving them excitedly.

It had taken her two hours to catch the game, prioritizing her companions’ hunger over her own during the weeklong journey to the nearest village from the Demon King’s castle.

“Huh? What’s with the mood? Did something happen?”

Sensing the subdued atmosphere, Emilia questioned them as she placed the rabbits beside Dalton.

Dalton was skilled at cleaning game, so it had always been his responsibility.

“Dalton. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Everyone’s just tired.”

“Hehe, cheer up! Tomorrow, we’ll reach the village, so let’s eat and drink to our hearts’ content!”

“Yeah…”

Vielle replied awkwardly, drawing a sharp glance from Dalton.

Emilia didn’t seem to notice.

Dalton started skinning the rabbits and preparing skewers. Gleon kept watch, while Vielle moved closer to Emilia, who was busy maintaining her hunting tools.

“…Emilia.”

“Hmm? What is it?”

“Are you planning to leave for another trip as soon as we return?”

Dalton paused mid-cut, his attention sharpening.

“Of course. First, I’ll travel with you to your territory, right?”

“Well, about that…”

“Ahem! Gleon! Did you see something over there?”

Before Vielle could finish, Dalton cleared his throat loudly and called out to Gleon.

Gleon, confused at first, caught on and addressed Emilia.

“Emilia. There might be a few monsters about 50 meters north. Want to check it out?”

“Oh, really? We should clear the area properly if we’re camping here. I’ll be right back!”

Grabbing her holy sword, Exos, Emilia donned her shoulder guards and dashed off.
Left at the campsite were only Vielle and Dalton.

Dalton tossed the partially skinned rabbit aside and approached Vielle.

“What were you about to say?”

“N-nothing. I was just going to say we might not travel together…”

Dalton’s hand swung fiercely, causing the campfire to flicker. Vielle’s head snapped to the side.

Slap!

A burning sting spread across her cheek.

Only then did Vielle realize Dalton’s intent.

“Were you joking? Didn’t I warn you that speaking recklessly could make you an accomplice?”

“But… it hasn’t even happened yet, and lying to make the prophecy true is ridiculous…!”

“Vielle.”

“W-what?”

With her reddened cheek, Vielle raised her voice, her frustration evident.

“Are you trying to commit sacrilege? Are you saying the saint’s prophecy is wrong?”

“No, that’s not what I meant…!”

“Shut up. If you utter any more nonsense, I’ll report to His Majesty that you conspired to commit treason. Understand?”

“…What? But then what about Raffelon?”

Raffelon was currently by the nearby stream, washing the utensils.

“That fool is too righteous. He’d naively side with Emilia and end up riddled with arrows. It’s enough if the three of us agree, so don’t concern yourself with the pack mule.”

Dalton dismissed her sharply and sat back on a flat rock, resuming the task of skinning the rabbit.

Unbeknownst to them, all of this was being recorded by Raffelon’s record object.

Everything played out as planned.

In the end, Emilia was accused of treason, stripped of her powers and sacred sword, and imprisoned.
Meanwhile, Dalton, Vielle, and Gleon were rewarded generously for defeating the Demon King.

The false prophecy was a secret only the three of them knew.

Had they been accused as co-conspirators, they wouldn’t have received rewards but imprisonment instead.
Even if the prophecy was a lie, they convinced themselves it was part of the prophecy’s design.

Prophecies, after all, were the words of the divine.

How could mere mortals claim to understand the will of the gods?

Watching the carriage loaded with treasures and supplies destined for their lands, Vielle turned to Gleon and asked quietly:

“…Do you think this is right?”

“Right or wrong doesn’t matter. In a savage age, survival is what comes first.”

“So you’re admitting you lied to survive?”

“That doesn’t matter either.”

Even Gleon wasn’t at ease.

Despite his pragmatic and individualistic nature, the sight of Emilia’s tearful protests lingered uncomfortably in his mind.

But only up to that point.

Prophecies uprooted budding seeds before they could grow.
Even if not today, Emilia would’ve become a traitor eventually—so he believed.

“Ha… I don’t know what’s right anymore.”

“If you don’t know, stop thinking about it. Live only for what’s ahead. Let go of pointless guilt. It won’t change anything.”

“…Yeah. The prophecy is the prophecy, after all.”

Vielle knew this too.

The prophecy had come to pass, and her guilt was nothing more than a useless refuge for a hypocrite.

Dalton approached, slinging his shield onto his back, ready to move on.

“Our priority is finding Raffelon. How the hell did that bastard manage to run off a day early?”

Neither Vielle nor Gleon had an answer, shaking their heads.

“Damn it. Annoying fool. Let me know the moment you find him.”

“Doesn’t needing to silence Raffelon prove we’re in the wrong?”

If no one had been watching, Dalton might’ve slapped her again for that remark. Instead, he glared at her furiously.

He leaned in close, baring his teeth like a predator as he whispered:

“Watch your mouth. We only followed the prophecy. Didn’t I warn you not to spew nonsense?”

Dalton gripped Vielle’s shoulder harshly.

“Get it together, Vielle. We did nothing wrong. The prophecy dictated it. His Majesty desired it. Understand? If you dare entertain pity or guilt again, you’ll join Emilia in the dungeons.”

“…Fine, I get it.”

“Good. For all we know, even if Emilia said she wanted to travel, deep down, she might’ve longed for rebellion. Who’s to say?”

Vielle swallowed the retort rising in her throat.

She pitied Emilia. She felt sorry for her. But she couldn’t join her in the underground prison.

Her family’s restoration was just beginning. She couldn’t let guilt ruin it.

Taking Gleon’s advice, she abandoned her naive sense of justice and guilt as she boarded the carriage bound for the royal capital.

Seventy days after their parting at the capital, the hero party members met again.

Instead of joyful camaraderie, a chilling tension hung between them.

Vielle, arriving pale and haggard on horseback, didn’t seem to bring good news.

Dalton sneered as he addressed her curtly.

“What’s the meaning of this, Lady Vielle of the Count’s estate? No farewell, just a lone horse?”

Dalton, once the steadfast vanguard of the hero party, had ascended to the rank of duke in the Kingdom of Elond through his rewards.

Compared to Vielle, who rose from baroness to countess, his advancement by three ranks was stark.

But titles and rewards were the least of Vielle’s concerns now.

She had ridden nonstop for two days from the Roselle estate, carrying more than just her weariness.

“…Dalton. Do you remember what I said?”

“Remember? Do I still look like your friend?”

“Ah… M-my apologies, Duke Dalton.”

“Well, spit it out. Why did you come running like this?”

In the reception room, Dalton sat naturally in the highest seat, crossing his legs and lounging on the sofa.

The camaraderie built over their yearlong journey was nowhere to be seen on his face.

He had discarded it.

The sweetness of camaraderie had turned bitter, so he spat it out.

“…I told you, didn’t I? If you fabricate a prophecy’s legitimacy with lies, how can it still be called a prophecy?”

“So, have you come here to spew nonsense again?”

Sigh…

“No, I came to give you a chance, Duke Dalton.”

“You? Giving me a chance?”

Dalton’s irritation flared at the countess’s audacity.

He was no longer a mere viscount but a great duke, a member of Brikal’s line.
Nothing seemed capable of standing in his way—until the Duke of Roselle appeared.

“Let’s go meet Duke Roselle together.”

“What? That commoner? Ah, now that you mention it, he bought Emilia, didn’t he? Don’t tell me you came from his estate?”

“Yes, I went to apologize to Emilia. She didn’t forgive me, but at least my conscience is clear now.
So, Duke Dalton, let’s…”

“What?”

Dalton straightened in his seat, glaring at Vielle.

But there was no trace of fear left in her eyes.

“Vielle, didn’t I warn you not to spread nonsense?”

“Emilia is at Duke Roselle’s estate. And so is Raffelon.”

“What? Raffelon? Are you serious? That bastard is at that commoner’s mansion?”

Dalton’s lips curled into a sly smile at the mention of Raffelon.

Even though the man’s reappearance wouldn’t change anything, having him nearby offered a chance to clean up loose ends.
And the fact that Raffelon was at that irksome commoner duke’s mansion meant an opportunity for a double gain.

Despite sharing the same rank, Dalton found Roselle to be an irritating presence.

A nobleman of lowly and vulgar origins, Roselle was an affront to Dalton’s lofty status.
Seeing Roselle flaunting his connection to Brikal’s inner circle always made Dalton’s blood boil.

Dalton, a hero chosen by the divine, had saved the kingdom and risen to the rank of duke.
To see Roselle, with his humble bloodline, standing shoulder to shoulder with him was insufferable.

Now that Brikal had fallen, with no certainty of his recovery, it was the perfect time to strike.

If Vielle had sought Emilia’s forgiveness, and if Roselle had accepted her apology while hiding Raffelon, it was more than enough justification to act.

Dalton gave Vielle an approving look.

“It seems you have much to share, Vielle.”