--And who was going to kill me for it, eh?

　From the moment he heard those words in front of the gates of Philos, a certainty had been born in Roseau's heart. It was a strange conviction that he, Lugis, must be the same as himself.

　The way he leads his troops, the way he exposes himself to the enemy, the way he offers his head, the way he cries out to the gods to kill him.

　Yes, he is the same, he is the same. He doesn't need his life one bit more than you do. And yet, deep down, he hates, hates something. I don't know who that person is, but I continue to harbor feelings that I can never hide.

　That's why I think. The essence of Lugis is not vice or great evil. It is my own kind, my own brilliant and bitter enemy.

Don't you think this world is ridiculous, my enemy and kindred spirit?

　Roseau says, cutting his burning lips. "Isn't this world ridiculous? He speaks plainly, but as if he were speaking.

　In this world, the unrighteous and the righteous, everyone hates everyone somewhere. Today I couldn't eat bread, I couldn't find a place to sleep, my parents were killed in front of me, my daughter was tortured by soldiers, my lover's corpse was trampled in the battlefield. The seeds of misery and hatred are sown everywhere.

　And yet, they all act as if they have nothing to do with hatred, as if it is right to assume so.

　And yet, once they have an outlet for their hatred, they will continue to spew it out like crazy. Isn't it the same with the citizens of Philos?

　The woman whose heart was burned, Philos-Treit, was a righteous person. She cared for her people, she loved them, she even took on the role of hater. She was more righteous and worthy of ruling than anyone else.

　But guess what. Once you hang a wooden plank around her neck as a traitor, the people take advantage and throw stones at her and beat her with sticks. There were only a few who defended her.

　Nonsense. At the end of the day, they don't think for themselves, they're just living their lives as comatose puppets driven by hatred. It's a masterpiece, just like a comedian.

　That's why, Roseau thinks. They deserve what's coming to them. The truth is that there is only hate and malice in this world, even for the right girl. Let's teach her that that's what's right.

　Roseau smiled self-mockingly as he continued to speak. His lips rippled in the flames.

I don't deny hatred, if that's what you mean. Rather, I affirm all kinds of hatred in this world.

　That's why I think we should burn it all to the ground. The people who deny hatred, the actors who treat it as if it doesn't exist and talk about how they are right.

　I'm going to beat them all to the punch. Let's fill the whole world with righteous hatred, letting the hatred in our hearts burn and boil up.

　After all, Roseau believes that this is the true nature of this world. I can say with certainty that the burning of hatred is my source, my origin.

Like-minded. You're the same. The fuel that brought you here on those two legs is nothing but hatred.

　Lozeau spoke loftily to the gasping, wide-eyed Rougis in front of him. I'm not sure if this is a good idea or not.


　◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇


　Hatred, hatred. He muttered lightly in his chest. As I listened to Roseau's words being spoken, I thought of a scene behind my eyelids.

　It was a memory of a journey I had once taken. The depths of the earth I once saw. What was it that filled the depths of my heart and drove my body to the edge?

　I don't have to ask now, but it is, as Roseau said, a hatred that makes me swoon. A selfish and violent desire. How can I deny it now?

　The hero like the sun had everything I didn't have, and the knights of the Order were so strong that I was no match for them. The sorcerer, the elf princess, and Alueno. They were so brilliant I couldn't even reach them.

　Yes, I hated them. I envied them.

　They trampled me, they kicked my dignity. How many times have I gnashed my teeth at a being whose will alone could not reach me? How many times have I been humiliated? Those days when there was no redemption, not even a shred of respect. Those days that make me want to throw up just thinking about them.

　If you think about it, then surely Roseau and I are the same. I'm sure we are. If he's had days like mine, maybe I should even take his hand. There was something in Roseau's words that reminded me of that, for sure.

　My heart is burning hot, searing hot. His lips twisted, his cheeks lifted, and he said.

"Roseau, I... I can't deny what you said. Hatred is familiar, and I don't know how many times I've had envy. In that sense, you and I are the same.

　No matter how I try, I can't deny the hatred I carry in my heart. I'm sure I'll be living with this coma in my gut for a long time to come, I think.

　But...



　His mouth twisted as he continued.

"But still, we're not the same species. There's only one difference. You burned, I burned. That's it.

　A ragged breath escapes from his mouth. The very exhalation that goes down my throat feels like it's going to burn out my airways. With my left hand, I force myself to grip the treasured sword. A dull pain swirled in my temple. In the distance, I can see something moving slightly.

　That's the only part I can't tolerate. I didn't want to burn the heroes I admired out of spite.

I didn't want to kick them down the road, I didn't want to humiliate them, I wanted to stand shoulder to shoulder with them.

　Oh, something funny is about to come out of my heart.

　I wanted to reach out to those glorious heroes. I wanted to be the kind of person who could walk the path with them, not just follow their footsteps. All I had at my core was that dazzling longing. I was willing to give up my life for that.

　So I'll say it. Me and Roseau are the same. But we're not the same species.

...... I'm sorry, really. Then I'll burn you to ashes, my enemy.

　Roseau's words sounded as if they were coming from the heart. The emotions reflected in his greatly distorted eyes were reminiscent of sorrow. The expression on his face was truly and endlessly sad.

　As if in response to Roseau's words, he held up his treasured sword with his left arm alone. He placed the blade on his right shoulder.

　His body no longer resembles burnt flesh itself, and his skin makes a distorted sound as if it has been scorched. This feeling of being steamrolled from the inside. But strangely enough, there was also another kind of heat behind it. Not a burning, but a much more pleasant heat.

　My eyes burn. I saw a shadow moving.

"Don't worry, don't worry, Roseau. I'm gonna save you right here.

　Me, Roseau. I'm sure we're the same at the core, I think. But somehow, we were never the same.

　I don't know why. I don't know his past, and he doesn't know mine. I don't think we even want to know each other. Maybe there's no reason for us to be buttoned up.

　--But if I had to guess, I had Alueno, I had the Nines, I had Grandpa. And he didn't. It's probably just a small difference.

　Such a small difference had finally burned away even his own longing. There's an inexplicable feeling deep in my heart.

　He stomps on the red bricks, his jeweled sword clanging on his shoulder. Once again, I could see the flames rising from Roseau's body. The fiery serpents are looking at him as if to turn hostile.

　I close my eyelids for a moment. As if making a wish on a precious sword.

　--I don't need to be wished upon. It's known to me now. If that's what you want, I'll slay it with a single swing. I'm a tool for that.

　I kicked my leg just as such a sound echoed in my skull. He threw himself on the sword as if he were about to fall.

　The heat of Roseau's fire flickered before his eyes. His eyes still blazed with the same piercing fire. Red was burning the night.