I Tried To Be Her Loyal Sword

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52 Chapter

El was silent for a long time. His stiff expression was unreadable. However, I could sense hesitation in that silence, so I simply waited for him to speak first.

“…Yes.”

Perhaps when the chill had begun to fade, El slowly opened his mouth. Something resembling deep loneliness, sorrow, and regret hardened and crystallized like waste material in his moonlit eyes.

“I had a younger sister.”

“She is dead now.”

That single statement sounded unbearably heavy. Almost beyond what he could bear.

‘…She really died, huh.’

Since the moment I turned around in the empty space, I had anticipated that the child’s last moments could not be protected, but still, my heart ached.

She was a child who should not have died.

I squeezed my eyes shut, recalling her round eyes that reminded me of Aria.

“…I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for, Mir? It was unavoidable.”

A heavy silence settled between El and me.

‘Sis, thank you! Thanks to you, I think our brother has become much brighter! It would be great if we could live together forever…’

Taking a moment to close my eyes, I recalled a particular day in the past and slowly opened them again.

‘…Thank you for helping.’

That child, whose face was so scarred I could hardly recognize them. The one who exuded the scent of abject poverty, yet at the same time wafted the fragrance of a sacred lily. With those black eyes filled with venom and hatred towards the world, short, coarse mahogany hair—[that child].

And now, I looked at the person before me. A man whose eyes contained a swirl of emotions I could not define.

A face as white and smooth as alabaster. An angelic appearance, devoid of any trace of poverty. A rich scent of lilies that enveloped him. Shining silver eyes and neatly arranged sky-blue hair.

‘The nameless child and Pope Elior.’

The only commonality was that nostalgic fragrance that tickled my nose. Yet, despite that, I firmly believed El was that child from back then.

“Then, I have one last question.”

El, who had slightly leaned back against the sofa, closed his eyes. His long eyelashes fluttered open to reveal his beautiful silver eyes. They focused on me, roaming aimlessly. The corners of his eyes drooped painfully.

“Ask me anything.”

He didn’t seem willing to answer. Although it was clearly evident, El permitted it. As if to say anything was allowed as long as it were me. I felt an indescribable emotion at that sight.

‘What am I to him?’

The child from the past remained in my mind as a memory of childhood pain. But how would that child remember me? It was too daunting to even guess.

‘Why didn’t you come then?’

The question I truly wanted to ask lurked beyond my heart, and I merely posed a question similar to what I had asked in childhood.

“Would you prefer I pretend not to know?”

‘Black. Do you want me to act as if I don’t know?’

El’s eyes shook greatly. In his gaze lay the unspoken question of whether that was really it. I simply smiled in response.

I didn’t want to force him into something he disliked.

“…I want you to pretend not to know. Until I gather the courage to speak.”

‘…I hope you pretend not to know. I don’t want to show you my weak side.’

Memories of painful childhood days resurfaced.

It must have been the worst time for him, yet he still remembers.

That boy who used to hug me tightly as if he would crush me.

“…Alright. That will do.”

He smiled gently. That was sufficient of an answer.

Honestly, when I first came here, I had many thoughts. If El were truly the Pope, if he were that child back then, what should I do?

However, now that I faced the truth directly, such thoughts didn’t cloud my mind. Whether he was the Pope or that child, all the things he had done to help me remained unchanged.

A childhood friend and ally. Someone who had become precious to me without my realizing it.

He was simply El to me.

“Well, I should take my leave now. Please rest well, Your Holiness.”

As I rose, considering El, who seemed to have many thoughts, he hurriedly, yet carefully, tugged at the hem of my shirt. As I looked at him, blinking in surprise, El narrowed his brows sadly.

“Is it not possible for me to be El to you, even as the Pope? I told you, no matter the form, my feelings for you remain the same.”

El’s gaze drooped. His eyelashes fluttered pitifully, as if tempting me.

“Call me El, Shushu. You promised.”

His low voice resonated in my eardrums. Beyond the pitiful, delicate facade wrapped around him, his eyes concealed a madness intertwined with a curious sense of comfort.

‘…Don’t leave me behind.’

I felt a hint of dissonance in that presence, but the way he gently tugged at my clothes reminded me of that child from my past, and I ended up softening my heart.

‘Is he still there?’

I gazed down at El, who held onto me. Perhaps it was because I had seen El as a weak child, despite the fact he was actually two years older than me; in my eyes, he looked young and fragile.

I had always been weak to the young and delicate.

“…I will need to call you Your Holiness in public, but when it’s just the two of us, I’ll call you El.”

I slowly removed his hand that clung to my clothes. His hand, much larger than mine, slipped away gently. The familiar warmth traveled up my palm.

“So please don’t make that face.”

His silver eyes, consumed by despair, trembled as if guessing my refusal.

I held El’s hand tightly once, then let go. He looked too pitiful to refuse.

“…If that’s what you want.”

El slowly closed his eyes and then smiled gently. Indeed, it was nice to see him bright.

“Well then, I really must go.”

El did not appear well either, so it seemed better that I returned sooner rather than later.

I stared intently at El, whose expression became somewhat gloomy as he nodded his head. Forgetting our status difference for a moment, I placed my hand on his soft sky-blue hair. As I slowly stroked it, those fine, thread-like hairs clung to my fingers.

“Thank you for making it this far.”

I whispered softly, looking down at El, who wore a surprised expression. His silver eyes submerged in a sea of various emotions.

The child who had once been an outcast of the temple had now been praised as the greatest Pope throughout history. I pretended to be unaware of his past, yet I still wanted to tell him.

For the effort it took to get here. I may not know all the roads you walked, but I remember where you started, so I understand your struggles to some extent. I wanted to speak to my childhood friend.

“Until we meet again, may you find peace.”

Turning my back without any lingering attachment, I walked away. All my questions about El had been resolved, leaving me feeling at ease.

It seemed that now I could truly become friends with El.

“Ha, ha…”

Elior, whose face had stiffened and stared at the void for a long time, let out a hollow laugh. He covered his eyes with his arms.

‘You still remember that foolish, powerless boy who relied solely on your help back then.’

It was desperate and cruel. He didn’t want to be discovered. Only now had he climbed to a spot where he could finally help me, but he didn’t want to appear as another child who merely depended on help instead.

‘I had hoped you would not remember, but…’

With a scowl, Elior covered his face with both hands. The tenderness and affection washed away like the tide, leaving behind an amalgamation of obsession, madness, despair, and bizarre joy, forming an expression that was beyond recognition.

‘Why does it bring me such joy that you remembered me?’

Desperate yet elated. Two contradictory emotions surged within simultaneously. I felt as if I might lose my mind under the moonlight. I had been mad since encountering Kashmir, so it was nothing surprising.

‘You destroy me and recreate me.’

With just one glance, everything crumbles, and with just one touch, I am saved. It was too late to break free as I found myself swayed.

Even if that small, rough hand, calloused by life, wielded all of existence, I loved it enough.

“Kashmir…”

I spat out the syllables as if chewing them. This single name felt as heavy as the weight of my entire life, making it hard to bear.

“How can I… gain even a piece of your heart?”

My voice cracked with desperation.

I knew unrequited love would never be reciprocated, yet I still clung to seeking even a sliver of his gaze or a touch of his hand. If love would not do, then friendship would suffice; if friendship was also impossible, compassion would do just fine, and I wished to receive even just a portion of that.

Before the most powerful Pope Elior, who held the supreme power of the temple, I was a complete underdog.

“Hey, did you have a good meeting?”

Without knocking, the door burst open to reveal an arch-nemesis whose face I would love to tear to shreds. With his eyes shut, Elior, without a word, infused his divine power into an attack against Julian.

“Cough! You crazy bastard…!”

Despite being an unknown fact for the sake of the temple’s harmless image, immense divine power could, in fact, be used for attacks. If done right, it could become an ultra-powerful weapon on par with an aura.

Elior, who gripped Julian’s neck with his stunning, silver divine power that glimmered beautifully every time Kashmir looked at him, slowly closed his eyes.

“You’ve been getting quite friendly with Kashmir lately.”

“Cough…”

Slowly rising from his seat, Elior stood before a wheezing Julian. Elior’s delicate, beautiful fingers seized Julian’s nape.

“Because of all the trouble you have caused thus far, I have tolerated your disrespectful behavior… But as you know, if I have to choose between love and friendship, I would tear you apart and send the pieces to Kashmir.”

“You madman…”

With a face that clearly reflected horror, Julian, confronted by the maddened grin of Elior, turned pale. Elior released his grip, letting Julian, who floated in the air, fall down while smirking.

“Don’t wag your tail, you bastard. I’ll snap your spine in half before you can.”

Julian wore an expression that seemed to scream how utterly unjust his fate was, but Elior paid him no mind. Sitting back on the sofa, he covered his face with both hands.

“Ah, I miss you…”

Elior mumbled with a pained expression.

He was truly experiencing the maddening throes of first love.

As winter, filled with countless events, passed by, spring had arrived. The spring I met in the architect’s workshop evoked a rather peculiar sentiment.

I sat by the window in my room, gazing at the garden where flowers had started to bloom.

“Spring has always been a season of rest for me.”

During winter, when the monsters would roam freely, their activities would dwindle as the weather became warm; so, for me, spring was a time to wrap up the busy winter and take a breather.

I prayed that spring would put an end to the season of nightmares, winter.