"......"
I rose from my chair without a word.
Ivar stared at me with a bewildered expression. Ignoring her gaze, I strode out of the office. My pace was abnormally fast. The harder my heart pounded, the more my body urged me forward, and the colder my face grew.
"Your Majesty? Your Majesty, where are you going all of a sudden... Grand Minister! Your Majesty..."
Ivar's cries rang out from behind me. They faded at a rapid clip.
My footsteps clattered noisily through the opulent corridors of the imperial palace. One step. Another step. Step after step. I moved my feet mechanically, as though possessed.
Maids crossed my path along the way. They scrambled to straighten their posture and bowed.
"We greet Your Exalted Presence."
"We greet Your Exalted Presence."
Among them was a maid whose bearing was rather refined; she elegantly lifted the hem of her skirt. The maid herself knew full well that she had performed a splendid greeting. She took pride in it.
'What's there to be so proud of?'
Watching the maids bow to me one after another, a single question surfaced in my mind.
It wasn't merely the physical gestures. When the maids said "We greet Your Exalted Presence," they infused every subtle, delicate nuance of pronunciation with their pride — as though the very act of offering this greeting carried profound significance. But what exactly was so significant?
The answer was clear. The role of a maid. That was what they took pride in.
The Empire's grand and splendid imperial palace. They served the resplendent Hall of Ten Thousand Demons — the most opulent of them all.
They kept it spotlessly clean.
They maintained its beauty.
This was not a glory bestowed upon just anyone. It was permitted only to maids, only to those who possessed both professional skill and lofty refinement. That was the pride of the maids.
And yet, how utterly worthless their pride appeared in my eyes.
The empire is neither great nor glorious.
That a long-dead half-corpse puppet sits on the imperial throne is a nonsensical absurdity to begin with.
Wearing the mask of a human empire, it is the Demon Lords who actually hold the power. Calling itself an imperial domain, it in truth supports republicanism across the entire continent... It has no clear identity whatsoever.
That is neither an empire nor something befitting an empire. It is Habsburg, yet it is not the Habsburgs' own. It is nothing at all. What on earth do those maids take pride in?
"Greeting a great one."
Am I not in the very same position?
If the maids serve the imperial palace, then I, Dantalion, served only this world. Just as they took on the role of maids, the role of Dantalion existed here in precisely the same way. I felt pride in that...
It was not a joyful pride. But regardless, it was an unwavering pride. If not me, who else could have filled this role? If not me, who else could have possibly arrived 'here'?
This is the loftiest mountain range among all mountain ranges, the broadest abyss among all abysses. I am not merely someone who climbs upward. I am even less someone who plummets downward. I am in decline! But if you flip the world upside down, that is an ascent.
Yes. By falling, I ascend.
Among all who fall, who else chose this path? Who else could turn the world upside down for its own sake? Do humans know nothing other than turning the world upside down for themselves?
This devotion. This sacrifice. The immersion in one's role and respect for the stage. This was me. This was Dantalion.
'But how absurd is my own pride in turn?'
My eyes narrowed.
'The imperial palace is not impressive at all. The maids merely make it seem impressive. Is it not the same! The world is not impressive at all. I am simply the one decorating it.'
I bit my lip. The taste of blood spread across my tongue.
'But no one respects this world!'
That was the difference.
There were many maids who cleaned this imperial palace. Hundreds of them, even. So long as the empire endured, the palace would continue to be tended by hundreds of hearts and hundreds of hands for as long as it took. But this world? Who is looking after the palace called the world?
Who remembers that the death of Jack Orland was the utmost injustice?
Who will fairly honor the two hundred thousand lives lost in the Crescent Alliance Army war?
Who will recognize what a noble woman Paimon was?
Too many people.
Far too many people vanish without a sound.
Unless I make sure of it.
I alone know the truth — that this is entirely my responsibility, that I twisted history and orchestrated it all as I pleased.
If I can't see it through———.
"Hm? Dantalion?"
I threw the reception room door open and burst inside. I expected the Elector Demon Lords to be gathered there, but only Gamigin was present, sprawled alone on a sofa. She had stripped off half her clothes and was sloshing down wine.
"What's with the grand entrance? Don't tell me you're here for the meeting? You were late so long ago that we already rescheduled it for later tonight~ You know, this isn't the first time you've broken a promise, right~?"
"......"
"But as it happens, this works out. You've been neglecting me terribly lately. I know Paimon's death was shocking, but honestly, it's unbecoming for a man to mope about something like that for so long. Come on, come sit with your big sister and drink your feelings away."
Gamigin grinned and patted the spot beside her on the sofa — an invitation to come over and enjoy herself together. I looked Gamigin straight in the face and whispered to myself.
'Status Window.'
Sure enough, nothing appeared.
I turned around and walked right back out of the reception room. Behind me, Gamigin shouted.
"Dantalion? Hey, Dantalion. Dantalion! What the hell — you're really going to treat me like this!? You know what happens when I lose my temper, and you still push me around like this!? You'd better come apologize right now or I'll dump the entire contents of Paimon's vase and make it reek! Dantalion!"
With a deafening crash, something shattered — she must have hurled a glass in her rage. I ignored it and kept walking.
This time, the place I was looking for was Sitri's private office. Sitri was in the middle of a serious discussion with two Mountain Faction Demon Lords. They looked somewhat startled when I barged in without warning. Sitri was no different.
"Oh, Dantalion......"
Sitri glanced at my lower body and tilted her head. She was puzzled to see that my left foot was perfectly fine. Sitri studied my eyes intently once more, then furrowed her brow like a mathematician confronting a century-old unsolved problem.
"...That's right. What's wrong? Did something happen?"
Sitri rose from her seat with a worried expression. Watching her slowly approach, I spoke inwardly.
'Status Window.'
Nothing appeared.
Sitri suddenly shot her eyes wide open in alarm. She hurried over and grabbed my hand.
"Wh-what? Huh? What's actually going on? Talk to me."
I slowly pushed Sitri's hand away from mine. My hands kept trembling, so I could only move sluggishly. Sitri tried to grab my arm again, but before she could, I turned around and left the office.
"Dantalion...?"
Leaving that impossibly fragile voice behind me, I walked on mindlessly.
I no longer had any destination. My feet moved of their own accord, pulled along by the countless thoughts swirling through my head.
Among them, one echo in particular rang loud and deep inside my skull. My entire body felt like the very cavern in which that echo resounded, as a single sentence repeated itself over and over.
I'd been found out.
Daisy had found me out.
She had seen through the meaning of my role, the meaning of my stage. The play that was supposed to begin perfectly and end perfectly had been ruined. The scenario in which I would take all the blame and fall had been shattered.
*'If Father wishes to take responsibility for the entire world, then so be it.'*
*'But who, exactly, takes responsibility for Father?'*
Those were words Daisy had never once said to me.
Yet in my head, I could hear Daisy's voice as clearly as if she were standing right there. Flat and cold. With an undertone of faint, indiscernible mockery.
*'If no one takes responsibility for Father—'*
"There's nothing to be done but for me to look after Father, is there not?"
What should I do?
I had to remain Dantalion. But now that Daisy had seen through my identity, what on earth was I supposed to do? Daisy was telling me that I had done nothing wrong. But Dantalion had done everything wrong.
……
When I came to my senses,
I was standing alone in the palace's back garden.
It was the spot where I always sat side by side with Barbatos, drinking. As if it had sensed my arrival, the monster living in the pond lifted its head above the water's surface.
Its eel-like head was gaping toward me. Probably because Barbatos occasionally tossed it snacks. When I stood there without reacting, indifferent, the fish rolled its eyes as if confused.
*'Would you look at that. I've never seen such an ugly fish in all my life. Dantalion, don't tell me that's you reincarnated? The appearance is roughly on par.'*
*'You've got to be kidding. I'm a man who climbed to where I am on nothing but my face.'*
*'Fine. It's decided. From now on, that thing's name is Dantalion.'*
The fish flapped its mouth open and shut in the air several times before slipping beneath the water.
Only the cherry blossom petals the tree had shed floated scattered across the pond's surface.
*'Hey, Dantalion. Here — I saved these snacks for you. Eat up, why don't you.'*
From beneath the full-bloomed cherry tree came laughter that did not belong to this world.
Thud,
my heart clenched tight.
I sank to my knees on the ground. Clutching my chest with both hands, I bowed my head inward. My body shrank to its smallest possible area in this world. And silently, something was wretched up.
"……."
Bit by bit.
"……, ……."
Little by little.
Before I knew it, someone had gently wrapped their arms around me from behind. That someone was trembling too. In truth, whether it was me trembling or her trembling, I couldn't tell the difference. All I knew was that she was whispering something on my behalf.
"I'm sorry, Lord Dantalion."
"……."
"I'm sorry… I'm sorry… Lord Dantalion, I'm sorry. I'm sorry…."
Lapis apologized endlessly, saying she was sorry over and over again.
"……."
I wanted to open my mouth and say something to her. I wanted to tell her that she had done nothing wrong, that informing me of the truth had been the right thing to do. But for some reason, no sound came out.
I couldn't say a single word.
All I could do was tightly grip Lapis's arms with my own. The trembling in her body traveled through my palms. I imagined she must be feeling the same thing from me. And just like that, the two of us felt each other's warmth.
The play never reached its curtain call.
The play simply failed.
The grand performance that the two of us had planned and directed together for the past eight years had, without question, collapsed in this very moment. Lapis and I silently accepted our defeat…