My Happy Marriage (LN) - Volume 6 - Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3  

Beyond the Closed Dream

Her white breath was terribly thick.

The morning was even chillier than usual when Miyo’s group left the Usuba home and stealthily made their way toward the military headquarters—so cold that it felt like their feet would freeze to the ground with every step.

The sun had not yet risen, and their surroundings were covered in a faint twilight.

Beneath the light indigo sky—which bordered on night and day, holding neither moon nor sun—Miyo, Kiyo, and Kazushi walked along as if they were out for a simple stroll. Yet when they finally arrived at the military headquarters, the looks on their faces were tense.

How many times had she been here by now?

None of Miyo’s visits had left her with a particularly good impression of the place, and at this point, it felt downright unlucky.

Unlike the unnerving quiet of her last visit here, most of the city was still asleep. She didn’t sense any military personnel along the almost empty streets, either.

At this hour, when it was almost dawn, it was easy for the lookout’s focus to start waning.

While the main gate to the headquarters was normally never unwatched, Miyo had seen in her dreams that this morning, right at this moment, the military main gate would be completely unguarded.

“Let’s go.”

Miyo looked straight ahead, urging Kiyo and Kazushi on.

This moment was exactly what she had been hoping for. The three began walking, finding that the gate that had been so heavily guarded just a few days earlier was completely deserted and wide open.

With no one there to ask them a single question, they waltzed into the military headquarters.

“I never would have expected the security to be so lax. It’s laughable,” Kazushi said with exasperation as he turned back to the gate they’d just passed through. Miyo shook her head with a bit of a smile on her face.

“I don’t believe it’s always like this. Everyone just happened to be gone at this exact time today.”

“Still, they need to review their security protocol.”

Kiyo groaned, and his expression turned solemn.

Miyo, and naturally Kiyo, already knew this, but Usui was to blame for the lax security.

Usui must not have entrusted any work to the members of the military who he thought might oppose him. That meant the military simply lacked the manpower it usually had.

Even if Usui was disposed of, this conundrum would likely persist.

Those who sided with him wouldn’t be able to be reassigned to the same positions they had once held. A change in leadership would result in a continuation of the military’s present situation.

Keeping her voice low, Miyo followed the future she had seen and continued along the unpaved gravel that covered the grounds of the headquarters.

There was a station for each unit, along with a barracks and a hospital. In a slightly separate area, there was also an enormous training ground and carport. The gas lamps dotting the grounds were lit, but none of the buildings had any lights on inside.

Their first destination was the prison where Kiyoka was being held. From there, they would make their way to central command, where Usui was most likely hiding out.

“It’s almost as though you know the way,” Kazushi commented, watching Miyo push ahead assuredly.

“I do know the way.”

Miyo was simply walking the exact path she had seen in her dream. She had been able to come this far because the layout of the headquarters was mostly unchanged from her vision.

At last, her group came to an area where the gaps in the buildings began to narrow. Even then, the prison stood out conspicuously among the other structures.

The jail at the military headquarters hadn’t been built to hold many people. Unlike a penitentiary, it was more often used as a type of temporary holding cell.

Despite this, the building was surrounded by a tall, difficult-to-scale fence, and its walls were made from brick and pocked by iron-barred windows. It gave the impression of being tightly fortified.

A two-story administrative building loomed over the entrance to the prison. The inside was obstructed by a storehouse, so it was impossible to see anything in there.

Every one of the military’s facilities left a hard and cold impression, but this building was significantly more imposing.

Miyo gulped loudly.

She didn’t just need to break into this building; she also needed to infiltrate the lowest layer of its depths to access a prison cell specially made to hold powerful Gift-users like Kiyoka.

Though she knew what lay ahead, the task would be far from easy.

“We’ll likely run into a number of military personnel from here. When we do—”

“I’ll be sure to take them out before they can let anyone else know we’re here.”

Kazushi smiled, as if already knowing exactly what she wanted to say, and Kiyo nodded silently.

Thank goodness they’re both so dependable.

Things wouldn’t have played out like this if she had been on her own.

Slightly relaxing her taut nerves, Miyo replied to both of them with a nod of her own.

Of course, the door to the administrative building’s front entrance wasn’t unlocked like the front gate. Fortunately, its windows lacked bars, so the three went around the side and snuck in through one in the back.

The lock on this window should be open.

Miyo tried to place her hands on it, but the window was slightly too high for her and surrounded by tall weeds, so it was just barely out of her reach.

As she silently struggled to stretch her hand out farther, Kazushi extended his arm out from behind her to open the heavy window without any trouble.

Turning around, she locked eyes with the aloof, easygoing man.

He didn’t wait for Miyo to say anything—he just hopped right up into the window, his haori fluttering behind him, before he jumped down so effortlessly, it looked like a feat of acrobatics.

Miyo didn’t really feel this about herself, but the sight made her realize once again how impressive a Gift-user’s physical abilities were.

Kazushi put his fan into his breast pocket before extending a hand to Miyo.

“…Thank you very much.”

Thanking him in the quietest whisper she could muster, to the point where she didn’t even know if he’d heard it, Miyo grabbed his hand and managed to get herself inside.

Bringing up their rear, Kiyo lightly jumped up through the window then landed inside the room without making a sound.

“Is this an archive or something?”

Kazushi cocked his head while he quietly closed the window.

The room they had snuck into was lined with wooden shelves containing many books and documents. Between this and the characteristic dustiness in the air, Miyo figured it served as a storage room, or as an archive, like Kazushi had said.

It didn’t seem to see many visitors, so it was the ideal place to sneak in through.

“…They’re far too negligent about locking up,” Kiyo muttered, furrowing his brow.

Given the lack of foot traffic, it was likely that someone had forgotten to lock the windows without anyone else ever noticing—the height of carelessness, considering the importance of this facility.

Although this moment of inattentiveness had provided Miyo and the others with the perfect opportunity to stage a break-in, the soldiers would need to be more cautious in the future.

Kazushi unlocked the door of the archive from the inside then cracked it open to check their surroundings. Fortunately, the administrative building hallway was illuminated only by the lamps that came on at night and was devoid of any signs of people. The damp clamminess of the air was rather unpleasant, however.

Kazushi turned around and nodded to Miyo and Kiyo, solemnly watching for his signal.

They nodded back, and Kazushi stealthily opened the door to prevent it from creaking then exited into the hall.

This is quite some tension, isn’t it?

He hadn’t even felt this nervous the first time he’d faced off with a Grotesquerie. Right now, he felt like the anxiety in the air would pierce his skin and send shivers of excitement running down his spine.

Kazushi looked at Miyo after she began walking ahead of them to lead the way.

Her back was dignified, straightened to the sky. Her footsteps concealed a clean elegance, betraying no hints of agitation.

And though her body was a tiny, delicate thing, he felt a bold majesty emanating from it, like that of a princess strolling through the corridors of the Imperial Palace. He didn’t sense an iota of uncertainty or doubt in her.

Kazushi took the lead to scout for foes as they approached a bend in the corridor. Once he had confirmed that it was deserted, they continued on anew.

Just then, they heard the sound of a door opening behind them.

The door artlessly opened with a loud creak, but before the man responsible came into view, Kazushi silently rushed over, got behind him, and wrapped his hands around his neck.

“Hngh…!”

The late-middle-aged soldier didn’t even get a chance to see their faces before he let out a short groan, losing consciousness and collapsing to the ground.

Kazushi hadn’t killed him. There was nothing to be gained from needless bloodshed.

“Whew.”

After looking inside the room to make sure there wasn’t anyone else there, Kazushi let out a sigh as he stepped over the soldier sprawled out on the floor to return to Miyo and Kiyo’s side.

“Well done.”

“But of course. I’m tasked to be your escort today, after all.”

Even though he wasn’t part of the military, Kazushi was no stranger to getting his hands dirty.

His Gift wasn’t very strong, and his skills with it were mediocre at best.

However, he couldn’t afford to be incompetent when he was going to inherit the family name one day, so he’d trained in techniques outside his Gift to fulfill his duties.

His forte, dispelling arts, was one such example, and he’d studied a general degree of martial arts as well.

His younger brother seemed to believe Kazushi was only ever gallivanting about town, but despite his frivolity, he had trained hard in between his periods of leisure.

“…Right. Thank you very much.”

Miyo thanked him with a slightly strained smile, looking down on the collapsed soldier with pity. She was still as dignified and noble as ever.

That’s clearly the face of someone who is stifling her distaste for violence.

Kazushi took out the fan in his breast pocket and snapped it over his mouth as he glanced at her.

“We should get a move on… It won’t be that long until a colleague grows suspicious of this man’s absence and follows after us.”

After giving a frightfully specific prediction of the future, Miyo turned around, the sleeves of her hakama fluttering.

Her expression had turned feeble for only a moment, when Kazushi had taken the soldier down. He could no longer see any vestiges of her past self as she marched on ahead.

While Miyo was certainly putting on a brave front, that didn’t tell the whole story.

She continued to guide them through the bowels of the facility. Eventually, they reached the border between the administrative building and the row of cells where criminals were imprisoned.

The connecting corridor served as a barrier; to enter into it, they would need to pass through an iron lattice. Of course, without the key, it would be impossible to slip past the bars, which extended from floor to ceiling.

Kazushi took out the keys he had stolen from the incapacitated soldier and unlocked the lattice.

As far as he could sense, there weren’t any arts or traps that would activate with the movement of the door.

Looks like we’re all set to keep going.

As soon as Kazushi opened the door, Miyo bowed slightly and began to walk down the hallways without the slightest bit of apprehension. This whole time, she hadn’t voiced a single complaint, shown any signs of anxiety, or made the slightest shiver.

She really has changed, hasn’t she? Kazushi felt the thought in his chest.

Back then—before the Tatsuishi family was reduced to a single member—Kazushi had lived close to the Saimoris. In his youth, the two families had enjoyed a friendly relationship.

Kazushi hadn’t interacted much with the Saimori sisters; he was a bit older than them both, and he spent most of his time going out on the town or training hard as the family heir. Still, he would get a glimpse of how they lived every now and then. Even as a relative stranger, he could tell that one of the girls was clearly out of place among her family. That was the Miyo Saimori who Kazushi had known.

Her face had always been haggard, plastered with gloom and dismay, and she’d kept her head down, avoiding direct eye contact. It was as if she had only ever been allowed to look at the ground.

She had been the dark to her animated younger sister’s light. Save for Kouji, no one made any attempt to get close with Miyo; she merely existed in silence, like a shadow on the wall.

Miyo had been completely lacking in charm. She had possessed not a single quality that drew the eye, as though she were the antithesis of splendor and radiance.

But what had become of her?

While her clothes were the same as those a well-to-do student girl might wear, from her appearance down to the slightest gesture, she was now the perfect example of a sophisticated, high-born young noblewoman.

Though she still lacked any eye-catching qualities, to Kazushi, she was far more beautiful than any woman he had ever met.

With each step she took, the murky, fetid air began to clear, and the slight fragrance of dew-soaked wildflowers seemed to waft through the dreary and bleak space.

No one would look at her and think she was an outcast anymore.

“Is something wrong?” Miyo asked Kazushi, turning around. He shook his head.

“Nothing. Best we hurry, right?” He brushed off her question.

They passed over the connecting corridor and snuck into the cellblock that housed the prisoners.

As Kazushi followed Miyo, who was advancing forward as if she were strolling through her own home, his mind turned to his foolish, yet so easily ruffled, younger brother, off on a far-flung journey.

You’re a thoughtless pushover, Kouji, but I’ll give you this—you have quite a good eye for women.

Unfortunately, his brother had ultimately lost to someone with the same good eye, not to mention nigh-almighty powers—namely, Kiyoka. There wasn’t anything he could have done.

A smirk came to Kazushi’s lips, and Kiyo glared at him in disgust. Ignoring the familiar, Kazushi fluttered his haori in the slowly expanding darkness.

They threw open the door at the end of the cellblock, revealing a staircase leading into a pitch-black hole. A faintly sour and earthen stench carried on the cold air wafting up from underground, prickling Miyo’s nose.

The hole was also fitted with a padlocked iron lattice, and the steps immediately in front of them were steep and narrow.

It was very hard to imagine anyone being down there.

I saw this in my dream, but it’s much more distressing in person.

Pressing her hand to her chest, Miyo strained to keep her impatience in check.

Regardless of how frantic she felt, she needed to act carefully. As she admonished herself, Kazushi used the keys he had to open the padlock.

Kiyo lit the hand lantern that he’d taken from the archives and passed it to her.

“So you knew we’d need light, then?”

She nodded to Kazushi’s comment. Miyo’s dream had informed her of everything—the best time to sneak into the military headquarters, the route they would take, the window they would use to sneak into the prison, the moment they would bump into a soldier, and the items they would need to go underground.

However, she also knew that this future wasn’t set in stone. It was still possible that a far more terrible situation than what she had seen in her dream was waiting up ahead.

When the thought crossed her mind, she felt herself losing heart, despite her vow not to falter or waver.

…Please be all right, Kiyoka.

Praying hard, Miyo took a deep breath and began descending the perilous and slippery stairs, guided by the light of the lantern.

The steps were narrow, so she would lose her footing if she didn’t focus.

All her anxieties jumbled together, a lump formed in her throat, and her breathing became labored. Her limbs grew sluggish.

I’m scared.

What if she hadn’t made it in time? What if the dream she saw was nothing more than her desires, and a far crueler reality lay in store?

She spiraled as soon as her thoughts started heading in a bad direction.

Even as her legs threatened to seize with fear, Miyo continued taking one step after another, descending into the dark, frigid basement.

Then she felt a gravelly sensation under her foot, different from the iron stairs; she had arrived at the lowest level of the prison.

She held the lantern aloft to illuminate her surroundings, getting a glimpse of an underground environment that was far more terrible than she had seen in her dream.

The walls were bare and earthen, left exactly as they had been dug. If not for the light, she wouldn’t have even been able to see her hands in front of her face. The cold, damp air was many times harsher than it was outdoors, freezing the insides of one’s mouth and nose.

Even though Miyo was wearing clothes, she felt like her body heat was rapidly being stolen from her.

People weren’t meant to survive down here.

Sweat beaded on her forehead, and she felt a terrible premonition, bordering on despair, form in her chest.

Miyo made sure she heard Kiyo and Kazushi’s faint footsteps as they alighted from the stairs, and they lined up back-to-back to continue down the underground trench passage, so narrow it was questionable if two people could even pass by each other.

There didn’t appear to be many cells.

The left side of the passage was entirely dirt, and the right side consisted of a handful of holding cells that were spaced far apart from each other. None of them held any prisoners, and their dirt walls were crumbling in spots.

“Can we stop for a moment?”

Suddenly, Kazushi spoke up behind Miyo.

They came to a halt, and he directed her to shine the light into the cell beside them. Inside was a wooden pedestal resembling an altar with a thin tree branch erected on it, across which was stretched a rope affixed with zigzagging paper streamers.

Kazushi easily removed part of the cell’s corroded iron lattice and approached the altar.

“Just as I thought. This structure is blocking the usage of Gifts or arts,” Kazushi remarked, looking at the altar. Just then, Miyo gasped and looked at Kiyo. He was a familiar, the product of arts. Would he be okay down here while this altar was blocking them?

“While I can’t say he’ll be totally fine, you have to keep in mind that the altar just prevents arts from being used down here. Since Kiyo has already been created, there shouldn’t be any problem,” Kazushi answered, anticipating Miyo’s fears. Kiyo nodded in agreement with Kazushi’s assessment.

“In any case, give me a moment to smash this thing, okay?”

Kazushi turned back to the altar, smacked his fan once against the palm of his free hand, and lightly touched it to the surface of the altar.

The change was self-evident.

The altar crumbled as if it were rotten. Though the underground passage looked as foreboding as ever, the stifling air became markedly lighter.

“Amazing…”

An impressive feat from the dispelling arts specialist. Kazushi turned to Miyo after she’d praised him for his brilliant display, giving her a mischievous wink.

From afar, she could hear the sound of water drops.

Exiting back out into the passageway, Miyo listened to the rhythmic drips and innocently continued forward.

The line of holding cells had ended a while back. Still, there wasn’t a sign of Kiyoka anywhere, with the passageway, now dirt-walled on either side, being the only thing continuing deeper.

Is Kiyoka really down here?

Miyo gradually became more anxious, and her confidence began to wane.

The farther and farther they went along, the colder and darker it became. Miyo’s doubts threatened to gnaw her to the bones.

“Wait.”

Just as he had before, Kazushi asked them to stop.

“I sense someone nearby.”

Miyo didn’t wait for him to finish and vigorously dashed onward—it could only mean one thing.

Rocking the lantern raised in her hands, she rushed forward, even as she threatened to stumble over the uneven dirt ground.

There was the possibility that danger was waiting for her. Even then, she couldn’t bear to stay still any longer, and she was breaking into a run before she knew it.

In the dark space ahead of her, barely visible even in the light of the lantern, there came a crack, like something hard had broken.

The moment Miyo saw his silhouette send the iron bars flying with a single kick to break out of his cell, her heart swelled, and the outpouring of emotions brought her to tears.

“Kiyoka…!”

Tumbling out of her trembling lips was a terribly awkward and shaky sob.

But she didn’t care about something so trivial. Miyo leapt out of her run and wrapped both her arms around her fiancé’s lean figure, chilled cold as ice.

“Miyo.”

When she heard his hoarse, slightly shocked voice, a feeling of relief welled up inside her chest. It felt as though the rays of the sun had pierced through the black clouds of her anxiety.

She hadn’t been too late. Her dream had become reality.

Her lantern let out a loud clack as it fell to the ground.

The light within disappeared right at the same moment, but Kiyoka must have used his fire powers, for flames immediately appeared in the unused torches lining the underground passage walls.

“Kiyoka, I…”

She was relieved, but this wasn’t the end of their struggle. Still, there were feelings Miyo needed to express to him immediately, no matter what.

She had sworn that she would never again carry regrets.

“Kiyoka.”

“Yes.”

Kiyoka patiently waited for Miyo to swallow the hot breath filling her throat and speak.

He was kind. He had accepted every part of Miyo from the moment they’d met, enveloping her with warmth.

She didn’t want to lose this at any cost and had been seized with fear by the new emotions that had risen up inside her.

However, she had made a mistake.

“…I’m sorry, Kiyoka.”

The first thing she managed to voice was an apology.

Kiyoka twitched slightly in her embrace. Miyo simply continued to speak.

“Back then, I already knew my answer, but I was unable to say it.”

She looked into the face of her fiancé, the person she cared for more than anyone else.

His refined, fair-skinned features hadn’t changed at all, but there was a slightly pallid shadow cast to his complexion compared to when she’d seen him last. That was only natural, given he’d been locked away in this dismal place for several days.

Kiyoka had allowed himself to be arrested solely for the sake of Miyo and the others.

Yet even though she’d awakened to her feelings, Miyo had been too seized by fear and anxiety to return Kiyoka’s statement of affection. She had simply stood there watching it all, frozen in her sorrow.

That was a big mistake. After all, my heart was already set.

How could she possibly go on without loving the person who was more precious to her than any other?

“I love you dearly, Kiyoka.”

After Miyo gave her declaration with a smile, Kiyoka’s crystalline, radiant eyes widened. Then his brow softened with relief.

“As do I.”

He wrapped her in a tight embrace, throwing his arms around her back. At long last, she had conveyed her feelings.

Miyo was certain that her hesitation had saddened and frustrated Kiyoka. Not only that, but if any one thing had gone wrong and she had been too late, then their parting may have turned into an eternal one.

But despite it all…she had gotten here.

Miyo had properly returned Kiyoka’s love.

“Kiyoka, please stay at my side. Forever and ever… Don’t you ever part from me again.”

“I’ll be right here with you until death do us part. For all eternity.”

Miyo didn’t want to feel the vexing, tormenting sadness of being away from him, of being unable to do anything, ever again.

She basked in the warmth of Kiyoka’s body, which was gradually regaining its heat like melting ice, and surrendered herself to the sounds of their hearts beating as one.

The person she cherished and adored was right there with her. Alive.

They each pulled back from their embrace.

Feeling a tinge of loneliness at the departing warmth, she turned around and locked eyes with Kazushi as he fidgeted with his fan.

“Ah, finished with the emotional reunion?”

“…Y-yes…”

Both of her cheeks grew hot at his aloof comment.

Why did this sort of situation always have to happen when there were other people watching? Her face felt ready to catch fire.

Conversely, Kiyoka was unperturbed by Kazushi’s ribbing.

“Kudou, you were never much of a talker to begin with, but it seems like this time must’ve been really hard on you.”

Miyo turned back around with a start to Kiyoka, silently breathing roughly.

Upon closer inspection, he was in awful shape.

His hair, typically tied up in a neat ponytail, was undone and disheveled, and there were signs that he had been hit in the face. On top of this, he was severely underdressed for the bitter cold of the underground passage. His shirt was dirtied, and there were numerous wounds and bruises visible through its tattered gaps.

Also, whether from his hand bindings chafing against them, or because Kiyoka had torn them himself, he had deep lesions on both wrists, which were dripping with blood.

“Kiyoka…”

Miyo was at a loss for words, but Kiyoka patted her on the head just like always.

“Don’t give me that look. This isn’t anything to worry about.”

If Miyo had moved more quickly and efficiently from the start, she might’ve been able to save him earlier. Then maybe he could have escaped with fewer injuries.

“I’m so grateful that you came to save me. Thank you, Miyo.”

“Of course…”

Miyo desperately held back tears.

Hearing his words of appreciation face-to-face made her so happy and relieved that she worried she would lose her determination. However, the crucial moment for Miyo was yet to come.

“Still, I’m really quite impressed you survived down here, Kudou.”

Kazushi voiced his admiration, approaching Kiyoka’s cell and looking inside.

“These hand restraints have arts cast on them to prevent any other Gifts or arts, too. I’m sure with your strength, it wouldn’t be impossible to break them, but it definitely would’ve been hard on you. This rigid security really speaks to Usui’s seriousness,” Kazushi muttered with a hint of disgust as he picked up the torn restraints.

Miyo realized anew just how imperiled Kiyoka’s life had been, and she felt herself go pale.

“The arts on those restraints aren’t very powerful. The ones you destroyed on the way here were a much bigger problem. You worked hard, too, didn’t you?”

Kiyoka put his hand on Kiyo’s shoulder as the familiar stood stock still.

Kiyo nodded once silently then disappeared without making a sound, leaving nothing but a single human-shaped scrap of paper behind.

“…Thank you, Kiyo.”

Miyo quietly expressed her gratitude to the familiar.

For these past few days, Kiyo had always been at Miyo’s side supporting her. If he hadn’t been with her, she could have gotten captured by Usui or lost hope along the way, preventing her from speaking with Kiyoka.

She might not have been able to unlock the full power of her Gift without him.

Miyo couldn’t help feeling a sense of loss at the abrupt parting; she had grown accustomed to having the familiar at her side.

“Kiyoka, can I see Kiyo again someday…?”

“…………”

There was no answer.

“Kiyoka?”

“…………”

Finding it strange that she hadn’t received an answer, she looked up to find Kiyoka wearing an indescribable expression, as if he had just taken a bite of strange-tasting food.

“…Someday maybe.”

His voice was awfully heavy. Perhaps something was preventing him from making Kiyo again?

When she shifted her gaze slightly, she saw that Kazushi had a knowing grin on his face. Kiyoka also seemed to notice it, whereupon he twisted his face into a scowl.

“Good work, Tatsuishi. You can go home now.”

A dangerous gleam flashed briefly in Kazushi’s eyes when he heard Kiyoka’s acerbic and curt response.

“Oh, come now, I wouldn’t be so cruel if I were you. I know what was really going on with Kiyo.”

Before Miyo could ask what he meant, Kazushi exposed the shocking truth in an amused tone.

“This wasn’t always the case, but you took control of your little familiar’s movements every now and then, didn’t you? On top of that, I imagine you linked your sense of sight and hearing with the familiar for quite a while, too.”

“What…?”

“Tatsuishi.”

At first, Miyo didn’t really understand what Kazushi was getting at.

Kiyoka had been controlling Kiyo. She did know that it was possible to remotely operate familiars you made—this principle was a fundamental component of familiar creation.

She also knew that you could tap into the eyes and ears of a familiar to see and hear everything that was going on in their location. This was another basic of familiar usage.

So when she took all that information into account, what did it mean?

It meant that Kiyoka had controlled Kiyo, experienced the same things as Kiyo through the familiar’s senses…

Oh no.

When she remembered what exactly she had done with Kiyo, she froze in place.

Holding his hand wasn’t an issue. However, deciding on a nickname for him, inviting him to bathe together with her, sleeping in the same bed. She couldn’t explain any of that away.

“…………”

She had been completely salacious.

I-I never harbored any such intentions in the slightest.

To say she was embarrassed was an understatement. Miyo felt both her cheeks flush crimson as steam practically burst from her head.

“That’s why I told you about not doing anything you would regret later,” Kiyoka said, completely exasperated.

Miyo was at a loss for words.

She had found Kiyo’s warning so adorable that she failed to consider it any further or take it seriously. In other words, she had only herself to blame.

Miyo crouched down and covered her cheeks with her hands.

“I-I’m sorry. Um, I really didn’t notice. I’m sorry.”

She felt as though each word of her faltering, insufficient apology was falling down to the ground and bouncing right back at her. That only made it even harder for her to face Kiyoka.

“Miyo.”

He stooped down, taking a knee and staring into her eyes.

“Look at me.”

“I-I can’t…”

Right now, her shame far outweighed her desire to obey Kiyoka. How could she even go on living after disgracing herself like this?

The gentlewoman ideal in Miyo’s mind was rapidly fading into the distance.

“Having you treat me like a small child was rather novel and not entirely unpleasant, but…”

Kiyoka admitted this in a completely serious tone, without any hint of shame or amusement, which prompted Miyo to timidly lift her teary-eyed face.

Then he continued in a whisper:

“If possible, I’d like you to refer to me one day as affectionately as you did my familiar.”

Her heart thumped faintly.

Miyo didn’t know what this emotion was called. But she knew that, one day, she would fulfill his request. She nodded meekly, and Kiyoka smiled back in delight.

Since Kiyoka was wounded and needed to preserve his stamina, Kazushi sent out a familiar in his stead.

It was headed for the Special Anti-Grotesquerie Unit, under Godou’s command. The familiar would inform them of Kiyoka’s rescue so that they could start things as planned.

Godou’s group, already on standby, would attack the military headquarters, forcing a majority of the Gifted Communion’s forces to fight back. Miyo’s group would use this opening to head straight for Usui.

Additionally, Miyo had also gotten word that Tadakiyo had managed to gather a number of nonmilitary Gift-users last night. His group would be able to provide reinforcements for Godou that afternoon.

I’m sure that there are far more Gift-users who reject the Gifted Communion’s way of thinking than they’re expecting.

From what Tadakiyo had told her, the replies from the Gift-user families he contacted were split.

Most Gift-users thought it was unrealistic to create a society that they led by brandishing their supernatural abilities, though they noted that the imperial family was an exception.

The ones backing Usui were the Giftless people attracted by the allure of supernatural powers along with a limited number of natural Gift-users like Houjou.

“Now, it’s about time we head for the real target. We won’t have to sneak around in the shadows anymore, right?”

Kiyoka nodded at Kazushi’s question.

“Not a problem.”

Before long, a dull rumbling in the earth reached them all the way down in the underground passage. An attack from a Gift. It was the sign that Godou’s men had arrived.

With the path ahead illuminated by Kiyoka’s Gift, the trio quickly escaped from the underground passage. Kiyoka was at the front, Miyo was in the middle, and Kazushi was bringing up the rear.

They ascended the steep staircase and exited out into the cellblock, the light from the long-risen sun burning their eyes.

It’s so bright.

Through blurred eyes, Miyo caught a faint human silhouette in front of her.

Kiyoka wasn’t in the best of shape physically, and he’d spent several days in the dark underground, but that didn’t stop him from incapacitating the person in front of her without a moment’s notice.

“Let’s go.”

“…He’s almost inhuman, seriously.”

Miyo could practically hear Kazushi smile as he murmured from behind her.

She’d seen Kazushi exercise his skills a few moments earlier, so she knew he was plenty capable, yet it seemed that even he found Kiyoka extraordinary.

The harrowing path they had taken on the way in was also faster on the way out.

The feint from Godou’s group must have worked, as they didn’t encounter many soldiers on their way. Kiyoka and Kazushi knocked out the few troops they encountered before they could put up a fight.

They exited the cellblock, crossed through the connecting corridor, and rushed through the administrative building hallway. All they had to do now was break through the front entrance of the prison and head to central command, where Usui awaited.

Just how long would it take for them to get there?

But to little surprise, their plan hit a snag.

“That’s far enough. You’ve really done it now, haven’t you?”

Someone blocked their path just as it seemed that they would be able to exit through the front entrance of the administrative building.

A man was standing on the crimson rug of the corridor; Miyo’s group had expected they would run into him at some point.

“Arata.”

Arata Usuba wordlessly kept back a cadre of his soldiers, who looked ready to charge at a moment’s notice, as he slowly approached the three of them.

Miyo took a step forward to call out to him, and her cousin was all smiles, as if nothing had changed between them.

“…I didn’t really think you’d make it this far, Miyo.”

Though he seemed to be grinning at first glance, his eyes held a piercing gleam, and there was a clear bite to his tone.

He was genuinely terrifying.

While Miyo and Arata didn’t always see eye to eye on things, she had never felt fearful of him before. That was because he had never once tried to harm her.

But was that still true?

Now it seemed like if things broke down between them, he might very well slit her throat on the spot.

Her dream had shown her that she would meet Arata here, so she wasn’t surprised by his appearance. But the dream had seemed unreal, and it had failed to convey the bloodlust that was now hanging in the air.

“Arata…why are you doing this?”

“Isn’t it obvious? From the very beginning, I’ve longed for a future where the Usuba family is treated fairly. The Gifted Communion’s ideas—Naoshi Usui’s ideas—encompass that wish,” Arata stated eloquently. His expression remained the same, as if he had already thought through what he needed to say.

No matter how much Miyo tried to persuade him, there was no way Arata would change his position.

Though she knew this full well, she couldn’t help but shake her head.

“No… Arata, please, just stop this. This isn’t the right way to go about this. So—”

“You have no idea. You know nothing about the feelings that have pushed me this far.”

Arata dispassionately dismissed Miyo’s pleas.

The sense of belonging she felt for the Usuba family was certainly nothing compared to Arata’s. If someone asked her to risk her life for the Usubas, her answer would be no.

Nevertheless, she thought of Arata and Yoshirou as family. They had taught her what it meant to be a family after she’d lost her childhood home, along with the Saimoris. They were dear to her, and she didn’t want to lose them.

These feelings of hers were genuine, and because of that, they gave her far more motivation to carry out her mission than a sense of obligation to the Usuba family ever could.

“…All you’re doing is bringing sadness.”

It was because she held Arata so dear that she wanted him back on their side. She didn’t want him to be complicit in Usui’s schemes, knowing the people they would harm and the chaos they would bring.

Arata’s brow didn’t so much as twitch at her pleas.

“Even so, I want to change the Usuba family.”

She knew that neither of them would give any ground. Just as Miyo wouldn’t change her argument, so, too, would Arata refuse to change his stance.

They were at a complete impasse.

But still, I absolutely have to stop him.

Arata slowly shook his head then took out his pistol and aimed its barrel at them.

“If you won’t come to our side, Miyo, then my orders are to force you to obey us by any means necessary.”

Kiyoka and Kazushi stepped out in front of her, shielding her from the gun. Arata was going to try and dispose of the two of them, then deliver Miyo to Usui. His objective was clear.

“Miyo.”

Hearing Kiyoka’s worry for her, Miyo felt an urge to lower her eyes. Kazushi gave her a tranquil look at the same moment.

There wasn’t anything else she could say.

I wasn’t able to get him to listen.

This had been her best opportunity to persuade Arata, and she’d failed.

From outside the prison, a man wearing a hakama and round spectacles passed through the front entrance and came up behind Arata.

Naoshi Usui. Either this had all been arranged beforehand, or he had heard the commotion and headed over.

A faint smile was pasted on his chiseled features. The impression he gave was the same as ever—that of a predator licking its lips, getting ready to pounce on its prey.

Miyo gulped unconsciously.

“Welcome to my fortress. I’ve been waiting for you,” Usui said, daring to refer to the military headquarters as though it were his castle. He was pleased for some reason, welcoming the three of them with theatrical grandiosity.

A cold sweat ran down her back. She felt like she was suffocating.

“Spare me the hackneyed theatrics. Is the emperor safe?” Kiyoka asked Usui, the murderous intent behind his words so strong that Miyo could feel it in full from behind.

They had no idea whether the emperor was safe. Though the man had repeatedly made decisions unbefitting the ruler of a nation, Kiyoka was compelled to ask about him as a member of the military.

“The emperor?”

For an instant, Usui let flash of hatred show on his face before he raised up his hands and gave a signal as if nothing had happened.

Something heavy hit the floor with a thud.

A gaunt old man had been thrown in front of them.

Usui’s subordinate, whose black-hooded cloak signified that he was a member of the Gifted Communion, had tossed the seemingly unconscious emperor to the floor.

This was no way to treat someone, and certainly not the noblest person in the whole Empire.

Miyo grew disgusted, feeling Usui’s hatred from every move he made.

“Rest assured, he isn’t dead. That said, after making him suffer over, and over, and over again, I was getting ready to kill him.”

Usui sneered.

“The value of this nation’s ruler, something he was ready to ruin the Usuba to protect, is all but lost. I wonder how this senile fool will feel when he sees his country taken from him and turned upside down?”

Usui resembled a young boy excitedly playing with a new toy as he innocently added, “I wonder if that would surpass the physical pain I’ve inflicted on him?”

But then, his lips twisted into a smirk of delight, and he kicked the old man on the floor.

“Everything is his fault to begin with, you know. Unforgivable, unforgivable, unforgivable, absolutely unforgivable. This bastard killed Sumi.”

Usui seemed to grow more unhinged with each word he spoke. But eventually, he plastered a gentle smile on his face once more.

“Well, you get the idea.”

A shiver ran down Miyo’s spine. Did this mean that Usui had repeatedly subjected the emperor to this type of treatment for the duration of his capture?

“Don’t think you’ll avoid execution for this.”

At Kiyoka’s bitter words, Usui simply shrugged.

“I doubt it’ll come to that. Once the Usubas stand at the top of the Empire, there won’t be any issues at all. It’s common to execute the tyrannical despotic monarch during a revolution. Only this old fool’s head will be rolling.”

Showing pure contempt for the word “execution,” Usui brazenly aired his thoughts. It was clear he had no sense of guilt whatsoever.

Is he saying this revenge of his is only natural?

Loathing the emperor, loathing the current state of the country, loathing his lack of power. With all this hate serving as his motive to live, perhaps Miyo had been mistaken, and he was long past the point of being reasoned with.

Not even flinching in the face of Usui’s abnormality, Kiyoka glowered back with a stare of his own, as sharp as a well-honed blade, and took a step forward.

“We’re going to capture you and make sure you answer for your crimes—even if that form of yours right now is just an illusion.”

It dawned on Miyo that the Usui standing before her may have been an illusion fashioned from his Gift.

“Come now, I’m no trick. I wouldn’t do something so rude. After all, I’m a sincere man,” Usui said, smiling at Miyo. “I wouldn’t act in bad faith toward you, Miyo. If it would make you happy, I’ll gladly show myself. As proof, let me ask you this: I’ve always met with you in person, haven’t I?”

Miyo thought back on what he’d said and realized that he’d always appeared before her in person—with the exception of their meetings in dreams, of course.

Nevertheless, that, too, could all be part of his scheme, and there was no proof at all that he was currently here in the flesh.

But Miyo knew. She knew that he wasn’t an illusion.

“…………”

Kiyoka turned back to Miyo to confirm the authenticity of Usui’s claims. She replied with a nod.

“Now then.”

Usui cleared his throat as if he was about to launch into a public speech and began to speak.

“First, let me praise you for coming here exactly as I intended, Miyo.”

Kiyoka, Kazushi, and Arata kept their lips firmly pursed, without letting their guard down in the slightest. The scene was tense.

Usui was the only person here who had been perfectly composed from the start.

“But that’s all the more reason that I ask you this: While it may not be the political authority that I seek, isn’t it true that you’ve been relying on a higher power? The Usubas’ abilities.”

“…That’s right.”

“You wanted the Usubas’ power in order to save Kiyoka Kudou. How is that any different from me? How is that different from how I want strength to change my destiny, or from how people want to artificially obtain a Gift of their own? What separates you from those you disavow?”

Miyo was at a loss for an answer.

Her Dream Sight hadn’t shown what she and Usui would talk about here. Was that perhaps because Miyo herself needed to come up with the answers?

How was she supposed to reply? As Usui said, Miyo had also investigated Dream Sight out of a desire for power.

As a result, she had become a capable enough wielder of her inherited ability to save Kiyoka and get this far.

From that angle, it was no different from what Usui had done.

“Do you really have any right to denounce us?”

When he asked her once more, she felt a disquieting throb in her heart.

She had to answer him quickly, or her silence would be taken as acceptance. Nevertheless, the more panicked she grew, the faster her thoughts spun in circles, and she couldn’t draw out the proper answer.

Then someone grabbed her fist, as if scooping it up into the air.

It was Kiyoka.

Looking back at her with a slight sidelong glance, he gently wrapped his hand around hers.

“Kiyoka.”

As soon as she said his name and confirmed the warmth in her hands, the restlessness in her chest and her disordered emotions rapidly disappeared.

Encouragement through sharing a slight touch—there was nothing more to it, and yet it reassured her more than anything.

Miyo inhaled and exhaled, pressing down on her heart with her free hand. Then she stared straight at Usui.

“I will never use this power to harm people. That’s how we’re different.”

Hearing her reply, Usui blinked for a moment before bursting into laughter.

“Ha-ha-ha! What, that’s your answer? You haven’t refuted anything. Why—”

Holding his stomach, Usui howled with laughter, twisting his lips into a terrifying grimace. It was like his smile had been painted completely black.

“You’re trying to harm me right now, aren’t you? Not only that, but how many soldiers did you knock out on your way to save that fiancé of yours? Don’t think you can excuse everything by claiming you didn’t do any of it yourself.”

She couldn’t let her heart falter.

The instant that she let herself be convinced, Usui would overwhelm her completely. If he had been a large fish with his mouth wide open, then Miyo would have been just like a minnow floating in front of him, simply waiting to be swallowed whole.

She shook her head resolutely.

“Even then, I am still different from you. I will never try to wrap up the lives of others in this power or use it to try to steal anything, either. I will use it for myself.”

“You mean to say that it was wrong of me to show those without power a path forward through artificial Gifts?”

Usui arched a brow and ostentatiously cocked his head.

“…I don’t believe one bad apple spoils the bunch. But so many people have been hurt.”

That had been the case during her visit to the Kudou villa.

The Gifted Communion’s experiments had put the lives of completely unrelated villagers at risk.

The same was true with Kaoruko, too. Usui had blackmailed her into doing things she didn’t believe in, forcing her to betray her comrades. How much agony had she endured because of him?

It was wonderful to extend a hand to people who were suffering.

However, was it really okay to harm many more others in the process? Was that really the correct thing to do?

“I very much disagree that bringing sorrow for many people is the right way of accomplishing that.”

As if to explain herself, Miyo forced the burning Gift inside her to surface.

When she closed her eyes, the corridor of the administrative building she had been standing in vanished, replaced by a different landscape.

It was the dream world. A world where no one would ever be hurt if she so wished.

Please.

The power of Dream Sight spread, completely replacing the area around her. It swallowed everyone in the vicinity, pulling them into a world of light.

When she opened up her eyes, everyone was standing in place exactly like Miyo had imagined.

Kiyoka, Usui, and Arata didn’t seem particularly surprised, while Kazushi looked around with curiosity, nodding to himself.

“Here again, is it? How uninspired,” Usui said, making no attempt to hide his weary displeasure.

The freshly verdant branches of cherry trees blew in the pleasantly warm breeze, letting out a clear rustling melody.

Right now, Miyo and the others stood in a place she had visited many times before—the Usuba estate from days gone by.

But Sumi, who had been there previously, was nowhere to be found.

That was because this world didn’t exist within Usui’s memories; Miyo had crafted it herself.

She had taken them there to ensure Usui couldn’t do as he liked, including making use of his powerful Gift.

And…

Please, let this go well.

She glanced at Arata, who was still aiming the barrel of his gun at her. She couldn’t read his expression.

“You can do all this, but my will remains firm. If you dislike me that much, then you can take control of society and make a world for yourself like this, where no one will ever be hurt,” Usui explained calmly.

Kiyoka objected to Usui’s unrealistic convictions.

“Those ideas of yours are behind the times. Gift-users are growing weaker and fewer, year after year. As long as the Grotesqueries we’re meant to subdue decline in number, our duties will eventually come to an end as well. When the time comes, what Gift-users need to do isn’t control society but change their ways of life to ensure they can persist in a world without having access to their abilities.”

If the number of Grotesqueries waned, then so would the number of Gift-users, and Gift-users waning meant the number of Usuba Gift-users would also decline. Gradually, people would lose their belief in Gifts and Gift-users, until eventually those concepts would be nothing more than fantasy.

Usui and the Gifted Communion were trying to make the existence of Gifts and Grotesqueries widely known among the people. But for all their efforts, just how many people actually believed everything they’d been told was real?

The masses might have been interested in the eccentric Gifted Communion’s ideas for the time being, using them to hurl their everyday resentment and stress at the military and government, but like any other distraction, they would be forgotten after a brief period of popularity.

The supernatural and the unobservable were already becoming more and more unfamiliar to people.

“I don’t think everyone will accept this right away, of course. But over many years, the Gifted Communion and I will create a nation of Gifts. If Gift-users are on the decline, then I just have to artificially inflate their numbers.”

“How self-righteous… I know that Grotesqueries are an indispensable part of creating artificial Gift-users. If their numbers dwindle, then you can’t create more Gift-users. It’s all the same.”

Kiyoka and Usui locked their fierce gazes at each other.

“That’s exactly why we’ll spend many years convincing people of the existence of Grotesqueries. Once that is accomplished, we’ll be able to increase the number of supernatural creatures once more. It won’t be a problem at all. Ultimately, you and your ilk are just scared. You fear radical change. Or perhaps you just blindly accept the imperial family as your absolute rulers.”

“How is that any different from your petulant insistence that you stand at the very top?”

Miyo took a deep breath and quietly questioned Usui.

Usui’s ideas were childish self-indulgence.

Since things hadn’t gone as he had wished, he wanted to create a convenient world that would bend to his will. His claims were nothing more than the retroactive sophistry to justify this.

“You say that we’re cowards, but you’re simply self-centered and egotistical,” Miyo said.

“Even so, if it means the masses who, right now at this moment, suffer misfortune and unhappiness will be saved, then I will surely be thanked for it.”

The stare from Usui’s murky eyes seemed to imply that Miyo should understand their feelings just as well.

“I believe I already told you that I don’t wish for such a thing.”

“That’s not true; you already have. You wanted power; you hated how helpless you were and sought new power for yourself. That’s why you went to the Usuba estate and awakened to an even stronger version of Dream Sight. Am I wrong?”

She couldn’t take it anymore—for the first time in her life, Miyo felt truly irritated and annoyed by someone.

No matter what she said, Usui would still connect it back to his own claims. Their conversation was going in circles and not making any progress.

She had wished for power. She had wanted to change the situation, wanted to rescue Kiyoka.

However, this was decisively different from Usui’s way of thinking.

“Stop trying to lump me in with you!”

Before she knew it, a shout louder than any she had made in her life came flying out of her throat.

A small light pink flower petal suddenly flew in front of her, bringing with it a faint cherry blossom fragrance.

She knew that her mother was watching over her. Miyo hurled her words at Usui, feeling as if she was denouncing him in her mother’s stead.

“You’re just trying to steal positions from the powerful because you want power for yourself. But the power I wanted was entirely my own. It’s not the same!”

At first, she had thought that she didn’t need Dream Sight at this point in her life.

However, this ability was unquestionably part of her, and it belonged to her and her alone. Whether she felt she needed it or not, she couldn’t give it away or let someone else have it, and that was all the more reason she could use it when it was necessary.

Usui seemed dumbfounded by Miyo’s sudden fury, and his expression turned foolish.

Was it Miyo in his eyes or someone else?

Finally, his body shaking, Usui showed his bright red anger.

“Enough! Stop disavowing me like this with the same face as Sumi!”

Giving in to his rage, Usui violently removed his glasses and threw them on the ground. Then he stomped on them, tearing at the hair on his head.

“I play nice, give you a chance to talk, and you give me nothing but vapid, lofty platitudes! You haven’t taken from anyone? Don’t make me laugh, Miyo. You destroyed the family you despised, stole their tranquility for your own, and even claimed a position in the Kudou family by getting engaged to the heir, didn’t you?! It’s the exact same as what I did! I took down that old geezer because I despised him, too. I seized my happiness for myself! What’s wrong with that?!”

His angry shout resounded across the tranquil Usuba garden of the past.

“You’re doing it, and everyone else does it, too! To secure their own fortunes, they’ll expel people, sometimes from their own families, kick them about, and take their position for themselves. Gaining happiness for yourself always brings misfortune to another. It’s inevitable!”

Usui’s sudden change threatened to overpower Miyo.

It was difficult to create a world where everyone would be able to find happiness. She had heard somewhere that all people were equal, but society couldn’t live up to those ideals.

Each and every person lived their life interacting with others, both harming and being harmed.

A society where each and every person was satisfied was a fantasy. This was something even Miyo was fully aware of herself.

“I’m acting to make everything how I want it. Everyone does the same thing without a second thought—it’s natural human behavior! What’s wrong with wanting power? You can’t possibly understand my feelings, now that you’ve forgotten all about your days of hardship and have gotten spoiled by Kudou’s power and influence. That’s why you can disavow me with that indifferent look of yours; you just don’t get it.”

Miyo listened to Usui’s rage-wrapped sorrow, fully accepting it all.

Usui’s shoulders heaved with each breath, and a hoarse wheeze echoed from his throat.

She was sure that this wasn’t the full extent of the pent-up resentment he had held all these years. The emotions were simply too great for his body to keep up with.

Miyo stopped sympathizing with Usui.

Up until now, she had a felt a pang of guilt or pity for him. However, she now knew that if she maintained these feelings, then her words would never reach him.

“…You may be right.”

She reaffirmed the feeling of Kiyoka’s hand in hers. She shifted her eyes, and Kiyoka looked back at her.

When Kiyoka had been torn away from her and she had been forced to face her own foolishness, and when she sensed a terrible foreboding that the beloved daily life she had would never return again, she had tasted despair.

It felt as if she were torn in half, as if one of her wings had been plucked from her.

The despair that Usui felt, having dedicated everything to Sumi, was probably far stronger and much deeper.

“Even then.”

Miyo glanced over at Arata, who was still brandishing his pistol with a stern look on his face.

“Arata was trying to change the Usubas to prevent the sort of tragedy that befell you and Mother from ever happening again.”

Arata showed a small hint of surprise.

“Unbeknownst to anyone, unable to seek help from anyone else, and manipulated as others saw fit…Arata was trying, just like you, to change this existence the Usubas were forced to endure.”

And Takaihito had allowed this. The Usubas, who had once been the shadow of Gift-user society, were beginning to change with his generation.

While the transformation may have been gradual, Arata had begun to present himself under the name Usuba, not Tsuruki, and the rules that bound them were beginning to become less absolute.

Although they may have suffered unfairly, they were no longer forced to silently accept it.

This method of reform was modest and required patience. Unlike Usui’s plan, it couldn’t reverse the Usubas’ situation all at once.

More than anything else, however, Miyo felt it was a noble ambition.

“I agree that everyone struggles to try to live a better life. And as a result, it is difficult for everyone to be happy… In my case, the Saimori family was destroyed in exchange for the happiness I feel.”

Thinking of the past, she cast her eyes down.

It would soon be a year since she had left the Saimoris. Even now she would sometimes think about what she would have done differently back then.

What could she have done to be able to escape that situation on her own?

What could she have done to allow her father, stepmother, and little sister to live their idea of a happy life in the capital?

What could she have done to settle things without Kouji getting hurt and leaving for the old capital?

The answers never came. At the time, she’d been tired of living yet lacked the courage to die, and her family saw that version of her as an embarrassment.

Unless Miyo lost her life in an unforeseen accident of some kind, she was guaranteed to get wrapped up in some dispute with her family in the future.

“Still, even if I lamented how powerless I was… But turning aggressive, hating someone, going far enough to harm them, that isn’t the right answer. All anyone can do is live the best they can, doing whatever’s possible with the power they’re given.”

If Miyo had never met Kiyoka and hadn’t been saved from her family, she would’ve empathized with Usui’s claims.

In which case, what would she say if the version of herself who had suffered in the Saimori estate showed up now?

“All I did was put up with everything and never once tried to change something myself. Even then, I lived every day the best I could, frantic and desperate. Eventually, Kiyoka was kind enough to notice this.”

Meeting Kiyoka was the best thing to have ever happened to her.

She had no qualms about saying that everything was thanks to him.

Conversely, if she had truly given up on life, let despair claim her, and decided that she could live only by hurting herself and others…

Then she likely would have never met Kiyoka. And if she had, he wouldn’t have accepted her.

“If you strive as much as you’re able to in the moment, without stealing from or harming others, then a chance to change the situation for the better, however small it may be, will come. Whether you grab that chance or let it slip by comes down to how hard you’ve strived to live your life. Striving to live, exhausting all the strength you have, that is what will eventually bring you your reward.”

Exerting yourself, living the best you could—these were things you could accomplish only by your own power. Only through committing yourself fully to something would you be able to grab your chance at fortune when the time finally came.

Miyo confronted the past version of herself head-on.

The agonizing days you lived were absolutely not in vain. They led to a future where you were rewarded.

That was what she wanted to convey.

If she could address her past self, that’s what she would say, so that she could encourage her to do more than pine for death.

If she had been able to hear those words back then, how might they have saved her?

“Your ideas distort that path, Usui. Giving Gifts to misfortunate people for the sake of revenge, and creating misfortune anew… You’re simply being defiant, insisting that because making yourself happy will inevitably cause someone else harm, then harming others is the only way forward.”

It was unacceptable for Usui to force the Empire’s citizens to go along with his plan.

Moreover, his insistence that he wanted to give Gifts to the weak was nothing but a front. Inwardly, Usui simply wished to reshape everything according to his whims. How awful.

People’s lives weren’t toys for the self-indulgent to play with.

“…Have you had your fill of your self-aggrandizing false kindness, then?”

Usui’s voice as he swayed unnaturally, hanging his head down, was terribly low.

He continued advancing with uncertain, wavering steps toward Miyo. Kiyoka braced himself to stop Usui, but Miyo lightly touched her fiancé’s arm to hold him back.

“I won’t allow it. I’m not going to take it! Why does anyone and everyone reject me, try to get rid of me? Am I really so awful? Is everything all my fault? Do you think those lofty platitudes can save anyone?”

Mumbling as though delirious, Usui brought his hand to Miyo’s neck.

When his fingertips closed in, just about close enough to touch Miyo’s skin, she scowled.

She raised up her right hand. Then, without hesitation, she brought it down.

A smack echoed, and Usui stopped moving, his cheek swelling as his eyes went wide with astonishment.

Pain slowly spread from her palms to her fingertips. Miyo’s slap was inadequate—it hadn’t been very strong, and Usui likely hadn’t felt much of an impact.

Still, for the first time in her life, she had slapped someone… The pain sank into her heart.

“Wh-what…?”

Usui’s voice escaped him, still stiff and stupefied.

Miyo’s strike hadn’t done much damage to Usui. However, the idea of Miyo raising her hand against him was so beyond Usui that it left him flabbergasted.

“Enough, that’s enough.”

Without really knowing why, tears came to her eyes.

“I’m not rejecting you. Nor do I want you to go away.”

She just wanted him to realize that a purer, simpler wish lay in his heart.

It wasn’t to overthrow a nation, create a Gift-user country, or anything like that. She knew that it must have been something that he’d shared with Miyo and the others.

“Try to remember what it is that you truly, genuinely wanted to do.”

A voice seemed to echo on the wind: resonant, yet fleeting enough to mistake it for a trick of the ears.

“You can’t just keep looking at me, Naoshi; you need to do what you want to do for yourself. It’s your life, you know—if you don’t think of yourself, then someday, when I’m gone, you’ll be left broken.”

In her dream, she glimpsed a fragment of the past. She recalled young Sumi Usuba’s cheerful tone.

It felt like her heart was filled with her mother’s kindness and warmth. At some point, her words and the words of her mother’s overlapped with each other.

Mother…

She had likely said these words out of concern for Usui’s future, dependent on Sumi as he was. Usui had lowered his head and gone completely still; surely he was recalling the same thing himself.

He digested the meaning of each word and reflected on himself. Only silence spread across the tranquil garden, verdant with warm sunlight shining down.

How much time had they spent like that?

When Usui glanced at Miyo, his eyes murky with darkness, he took one step, then two steps backward, and turned around.

“…I’ve had enough of this.”

The ambitious spirit he’d had at the beginning of their encounter seemed to have left him, and he was now wreathed in sorrow. It was as though he’d used up all his vitality and been reduced to cinders.

Usui’s feelings for Sumi had propelled him forward for so many years. Miyo wanted to believe that making Usui remember her admonition from all those years ago would spur a change in him.

“Standing around here like this is a total waste of time. I don’t need a daughter who doesn’t understand me. This high-handed nonsense is an empty, sickening fantasy, imposed on the misaligned by the fortunate with their heads in the clouds. It sends a shiver down my spine.”

A hateful parting shot. Miyo had hoped that something might have gotten through to Usui, but in the end, had Miyo’s and Sumi’s words not resonated with him at all?

Usui took out a short sword from his breast pocket and thrust skyward. The ostensibly empty air then made cracking sounds, like something hard was cracking open.

“Indeed.”

Arata coldly voiced his agreement and finally lowered his pistol.

He gave Miyo an icy glance then turned his pistol barrel up over his head and fired. The bang shook the dream world.

The two men were trying to wake themselves up.

Although Miyo had unleashed Dream Sight, the dream world was by no means all-powerful.

If someone tried with enough persistence to attack and destroy the world she had woven, it would collapse.

If she had used her Gift while touching her target, the dream world would’ve likely been much stronger, but given the situation, this had been impossible.

However, this wasn’t what disturbed Miyo.

That look in Arata’s eyes…

Fissures ran through the scenery of the dream one after another like cracks through glass. The flashing sense of déjà vu scared her most of all.

No, no, I can’t let this happen.

Suddenly, Miyo turned to Kiyoka and Kazushi and shouted:

“Stop them…! Please stop those two!”

They didn’t ask why. Without saying a word, Kiyoka and Kazushi simply dashed toward Usui and Arata.

At almost that exact moment, the dream world fell apart.

“Arata!”

Miyo called out her cousin’s name, extending her hand and breaking into a run.

Arata had certainly heard her, yet he flinched for only a second, without even turning back around.

His back still facing her, he dissolved amid the fragments of the dream world, falling away like flower petals or snowflakes.

When Miyo came to, her Gift had dissipated, and she was back in the real world.

The slightly worn-out deep crimson carpet. The fading colors of the walls and ceiling. The emperor, completely motionless on the ground, and the soldiers, unable to hide their bewilderment.

Confusion spread through the administrative building corridor as nearly everyone froze, unsure of what they were supposed to do.

Usui stood with his back to Arata and the front entrance of the building, blocking Miyo’s way. The distance between them seemed so close yet so far away.

Everything seemed to come to a stop for the briefest of moments.

Before Miyo could fully return to her senses, Kiyoka and Kazushi woke up and rushed toward Usui and Arata, this time in reality. But Arata was already conscious, and he brandished his pistol even faster than the two men could make their move.

He pulled the trigger without the slightest bit of hesitation.

A gunshot went off; it sounded like a large balloon had popped. A bullet zoomed from Arata’s pistol. Miyo was certain she had witnessed the moment with her own two eyes.

A deathly silence fell over the previously cacophonous hallway.

After a beat, there was a shrill scream. It had come from Miyo herself.

With a dull thud, Usui fell backward to the floor.

“Gah.”

A short gasp escaped the shooter’s lips.

“Arata…!”

He tipped over and fell to his knees, and Kiyoka rushed over to catch him as he lurched forward.

Though Miyo could feel all the blood drain from her, she fought against her trembling legs and managed to head over to where the two men were.

A short sword was plunged into Arata’s side, and fresh blood was already oozing from the wound, staining his clothes.

“Arata.”

“…Miyo, I’m sorry for deceiving you.”

Miyo’s vision blurred with tears as she watched Arata try to form his usual smile, despite the sweat beading on his pallid face.

“Call a medic! Message the military hospital!”

Kiyoka, carrying Arata in his arms, shouted at the soldiers moving about in confusion. Then, he asked:

“Tatsuishi, what about Usui?”

Kazushi shook his head.

“Dead. Probably killed instantly. What a fool.”

Usui had collapsed face up. His forehead had been shot clean through. Arata had been aiming at Usui, not anyone in Miyo’s group.

Upon noticing that Arata had taken aim, Usui had plunged his short sword into his side, but Arata hadn’t flinched in the slightest and had gone through with the shot.

Miyo couldn’t bring herself to do anything beyond clutching her cousin’s cold hand and crying.

The vivid red creeping along and seeping into the crimson rug was faintly warm, the temperature of life. They couldn’t stop it from pouring out of Arata’s body.

“Don’t take out the knife—it’s keeping him from bleeding out…”

People succumbed rapidly to blood loss. Hearing Kiyoka’s groan, Arata gave a feeble reply.

“Commander Kudou, you don’t need to save me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Unable to stifle his emotions, Kiyoka delivered a retort tinged with muffled sternness.

Why had things gone this way? Miyo had tried to stop him again and again, yet he’d snubbed her attempts to restrain him until, finally, it had come to this.

“Arata…why?”

She wasn’t looking for him to give any sort of answer. Arata took Miyo’s question, which slipped out between her tears, with a soft smile.

“Please, forgive me.”

How could she possibly forgive him? A life lost could never be regained. All her emotions, her anger, sadness, and fear, churned in her breast. She couldn’t get any more words out.

“Don’t cry, Miyo.”

This was the final murmur before he closed his eyes.

Going back slightly in time.

The Special Anti-Grotesquerie Unit was waging a fierce battle on the grounds of the military headquarters.

They needed to pin down the military headquarters’ fighting force at all costs. Thus, they couldn’t give their foes the leeway to let things devolve into a no-holds-barred Gift battle.

Just as flashy pillars of flame would burst out around them, the melted snow at their feet and water from other Gift-users would turn the ground to slush. At times, the slush would teem with electricity, while at other times, it would freeze over.

This alone was enough to erase the fighting strength of any opposing soldiers without Gifts of their own.

However, the problem lay with the artificial Gift-users.

In addition to the peacekeeping squad and Gifted Communion members Usui had released from military custody, their numbers seemed to have further increased as well.

Godou’s gut estimated that there were about eighty of them.

Conversely, the Special Anti-Grotesquerie Unit numbered only thirty people when everyone was mobilized. While it may have been an elite group, their numbers deficit put them at a disadvantage, even though artificial Gifts were of poor quality.

And on top of that, they also had to deal with Gift-resistant Grotesqueries that had troubled them before.

The malformed creatures surged in great numbers, as if all hell had truly broken loose, slipping in among the human soldiers and attacking them.

Gaaah, jeez! Crap!

Godou grew irritated as he lifted both human and Grotesquerie alike high up into the air with telekinesis before slamming them back to the ground over and over again. Holding back enough not to outright kill them, of course.

A few hours had passed, give or take, since this all started.

The so-called “visible” and “Gift-resistant” Grotesqueries were numerous and vexing, but they weren’t much of a threat in themselves.

All of their enemies this time around had corporeal bodies.

Unlike before, they didn’t need to expend energy thinking through whether they were facing off against a normal Grotesquerie that couldn’t be seen without Spirit-Sight, or one with a corporeal form, or worry about this barrier or that barrier. Instead, they could simply handle both human and Grotesquerie as corporeal entities and dispose of them all with their Gifts.

Nevertheless, the difference in numbers between their forces was absurd.

“Y’know, if we hadn’t been stuck inside the station letting all this rage build up, they might’ve pushed us back almost immediately.”

The numbers gap was hopeless, but the Special Anti-Grotesquerie Unit was actually holding out pretty well.

As the unit members clashed swords and Gifts with their foes, their eyes shone with a terrifying degree of fighting spirit…or more accurately, irritation and aggression, the likes of which Godou had never seen before.

This was totally just a way to vent their frustrations.

As Godou sighed, far off in the distance yet another fire pillar rose up into the sky together with a violent, bestial roar.

“Woowee, look at them go.”

There were several Gift-users among the unit members who could manipulate fire, but the hot-blooded group looked to really be in top form.

“Don’t just sit back and watch—get to work.”

Squad leader Mukadeyama spoke calmly even as he used his superhuman strength to pick up an enemy combatant in each arm and hurl them away. The whole while, he continued to send foes flying with kicks, alternating between his left and his right legs.

His physical enhancement Gift was quite strong, and Godou guessed that the soldiers he fought against, now rolling on the ground, had broken a few ribs.

“I’m totally working! See, look at how hard I’m working here! I deserve more praise!”

Despite all his quips, he was soundly trouncing his foes left and right, regardless of whether they were artificial Gift-users in the black Gifted Communion coat or soldiers in military garb.

It was now almost noon; their battle had dragged on from the early morning.

Finally, the reinforcements—Gift-users not belonging to the military who Tadakiyo Kudou had contacted and gathered—arrived.

“Looks like you’re doing well here, then.”

Looking like a rotund turkey, wearing several layers of warm, cotton-lined clothes with an extra overcoat on top of it all, Tadakiyo nimbly approached Godou.

“It’s good to see you again!”

Godou straightened his posture and greeted him with a vigorous bow. Several of the nearby Special Anti-Grotesquerie Unit members copied Godou.

There weren’t any Gift-users who didn’t know of Tadakiyo Kudou.

While he had been sickly from birth because his Gift was far too powerful for his body, the man possessed an ability worthy of a thousand.

He was especially proficient with wielding supernatural electricity, which had earned him the nickname Purple Lightning.

“Did we make it in time?”

“Yes! Of course, sir!”

Tadakiyo softly smiled at Godou’s polite and formal reply.

“You’re as energetic as ever, Yoshito. At ease, at ease.”

Tadakiyo’s tone was that of a laid-back retiree, but his fighting was downright nasty. He reaped the consciousness from his enemies by sending an electric shock through the slush on the ground before they could take stock of what was happening.

There were heaps of bodies left behind where Tadakiyo passed.

Okay, that’s terrifying… I respect the man, but this is seriously scary… He’s waaaay too used to anti-personnel combat…

Godou’s lips began to twitch in the face of Tadakiyo’s unbelievable display of skill.

While it didn’t have the same easily recognizable flashiness and destructive power of Kiyoka’s electric attacks, the old man’s more closely resembled the work of an assassin, which only made it even more terrifying.

The reinforcements numbered little more than twenty, which was an impressive amount given the dwindling number of Gift-users.

When combined with the Special Anti-Grotesquerie Unit, they numbered over fifty strong. On top of that, there was a world of difference between Godou’s troops and the artificial Gift-users when it came to their proficiency with their powers, so they were finally able to gain a bit of breathing room.

Little by little, Godou’s troops chipped away at the military headquarters’ forces until only a few were standing. They could feel in the air that the battle was ending.

“When’s the commander going to show up…? I do know he’s safe from the message that other guy delivered us.”

A familiar from the infuriating head of the Tatsuishi family had flown their way to inform them that Kiyoka’s rescue was going smoothly. That was why Godou and the others had charged into the military headquarters in the first place.

Kiyoka must have opted to face off against Usui and Usuba.

Those two were unquestionably powerful foes, even to a Gift-user able to wield their powers with as much skill as Kiyoka. There was no guarantee that he was still safe.

I really don’t care what the hell happens to that other guy, but…I hope the commander and Miyo are safe.

It was right as this thought came to Godou.

“And who is ‘that other guy’ supposed to be referring to?”

Godou heard an aloof, braggadocious voice come from the direction of the prison.

“…You.”

An all-too-familiar man came into view—his hair was loose and tousled, his gaudy haori was fluttering behind him, and he was spinning a fan in his hand.

He must have made it out of a life-or-death situation because his appearance was a bit more disheveled than usual, and exhaustion lined his face. Nevertheless, as Kazushi Tatsuishi stood there with such a look of unruffled composure, it made Godou question if he was really standing in the middle of a battlefield.

Initially, Godou felt a swell of relief to see that Kazushi was okay, but this was soon replaced by annoyance over the fact that another pain in the ass had showed up.

“Openly talking about me behind my back? Why, I’m appalled.”

“Excuse me? I didn’t say anything behind your back, okay?”

“Wait, really?” Kazushi laughed, clearly lacking his usual sharp wit.

Godou heaved a sigh to try and calm himself down. As he did, Kazushi greeted Tadakiyo.

“Hello, my name is Kazushi Tatsuishi. It’s an honor to make your acquaintance, Mr. Tadakiyo Kudou.”

“How very nice of you to say.”

Tadakiyo cheerfully replied to Kazushi’s reverential bow.

Just listening to this back-and-forth, Kazushi seemed well mannered, even graceful, but unfortunately given what Godou knew about the man, he couldn’t shake the creepy feeling he got from it all.

“So what happened with Usui? The commander? Miyo?”

“Hmm,” Kazushi replied to Godou’s question with uncharacteristic ambiguity. “Someone ended up in a bit of a predicament, so Miyo went along with him.”

“A predicament? Who? The commander?”

“You won’t have to wait long to discover what happened to Kudou. Look.”

With a howl, a cold winter gust of wind blew between those who were still crossing swords.

In that moment, the snow-dampened ground completely froze, and everything—from a single droplet falling from the roof of a half-collapsed building to the individual water particles in mist soaking the garden plants—turned to ice, as if the temperature in the area had dropped below freezing.

The scale of the Gift that spread across the entirety of the military headquarters grounds was incomparable to that of any other Gift-user.

The brave battle that Godou and his troops had been fighting was made to look as if it were nothing but mere child’s play.

There was no mistaking it. There was only one person in the Empire with this level of mastery.

“Commander…”

Several military personnel emerged not from the direction of the prison, where Kazushi had appeared from, but from the front entrance of central command.

One of them was Kiyoka, wearing a military jacket draped over his shoulders, covering his bloodstained shirt. There were also prominent members of high command who had been detained by Usui, such as the army general.

“All men, stop fighting at once! Drop your weapons!”

The general’s voice boomed, echoing across the grounds of the military headquarters. Both enemy and ally alike lowered their raised fists, sheathed their swords, and put down their guns.

Next, a squadron came rushing in from the main entrance that connected the military headquarters to the outside world. Leading them was Major General Ookaito.

This was likely the fighting force stationed on the government’s side of things. That must have meant that Ookaito’s side had claimed victory in their fight against the high-ranking officials cooperating with Usui within the government and their troops.

No matter where Godou looked, no one on Usui’s side seemed to be still going strong.

“Fight! It’s not over! We can still pull through! Fight!”

The only one shouting and screaming was the Gift-user who’d joined Usui’s side, Houjou. However, there was no longer anyone to follow his orders.

By now, he was practically the only member of the Gifted Communion’s forces who was still standing.

Usui’s forces ended up being as powerful as a bubble, Godou thought suddenly.

The technology Usui had developed had been magnificent. Between the Gift-resistant Grotesqueries and the artificial Gift-users, he had created advancements that the military would never be able to replicate. The fact that he’d won over the major players in the government, too, was worthy of admiration in a certain light.

With the path he took, overthrowing the government certainly hadn’t been a complete impossibility.

However.

There were some things a few decades of technological cheap trickery could never hope to accomplish.

If that was all that was needed to make it collapse, the imperial line would have come to an end a long, long time ago, and it would be unreasonable that they had continuously reigned for over two thousand years.

This was what the weight of history meant.

It’s over, then…

Looking up at the sky, Godou saw that sun was already on a downward trajectory.

The snow that had piled up on the tree leaves and rooftops was blown off in the breeze, radiantly reflecting the sunlight as it fluttered to the ground.

Here marked the end of Usui’s schemes to involve all the Empire’s citizens in his rebellion and all the strife that had accompanied it.