"Why did you become a jester of revelry?"

Bernstein's voice was listless. Unlike moments ago, there was not even anger in it now. Anger was like a fire. It could not burn without something to fuel it, and Bernstein had no firewood left.

One hundred and fifty years. A full hundred and fifty years.

He had now lived longer in anger than he had ever lived a normal life. Bernstein was exhausted. He was no longer raging because anger truly welled up inside him. Instead, he was wringing out his emotions from a sense of duty to be angry at his former idol.

"Why..."

Bernstein gathered the burnt-out ashes and tried to set them alight, but that spark could never last. It burned for only a fleeting moment. What remained afterward was emptiness.

"Did you want to live that badly? Were you so desperate for life?"

"I had to live, even like that."

At the hollow sound of Bernstein's voice, the Helmeted Knight finally spoke.

"I had no choice but to survive, even like that."

"But why?"

This exchange was nothing new.

Whenever they met in the Outer Lands over the past hundred and fifty years, Bernstein had angrily asked the same question, and the Helmeted Knight's answer had always been the same.

He had had to do it.

There had been a reason.

That was how the Helmeted Knight had always evaded the answer. Expecting the same this time, Bernstein resigned himself. Contrary to his expectations, however, the knight seemed ready to answer at last. He gave Najin a look, and Najin silently nodded and left them alone.

Bernstein's eyes widened.

Was he going to answer? Truly?

Why would he suddenly answer a question he had refused to answer for a full hundred and fifty years? Did he pity Bernstein, who was now practically sobbing out his words? Had he suddenly found some sympathy for him? It was terribly humiliating, but Bernstein wanted an answer even if that was what it took.

Yet it did not seem to be because of him. Bernstein suspected that the boy called Najin had brought about a change in the Helmeted Knight's heart.

That seemed to be the answer.

The knight did not speak until Najin was entirely out of sight. Only once he was far enough away that their voices would not reach him did the Helmeted Knight open his mouth.

2.

Najin's senses were keen. Even at this distance, he could have strengthened his hearing and eavesdropped on their conversation, but he did not.

Everyone had a thing or two they wanted to keep hidden. He had no intention of listening in on words someone did not wish to share with him. Sitting on a suitable rock, he mulled over what Bernstein had said earlier.

A jester? The Helmeted Knight?

Najin now had a rough idea of what jesters were. People who had lost to the Emperor of Revelry and become puppets. That was how the Helmeted Knight had explained them.

"..."

Najin silently rubbed his chin.

What if this had happened before? He might have demanded an explanation. Or he might have shaken his head when asked to leave, stayed where he was, and tried to listen to their conversation.

But now, well...

Traveling with the Helmeted Knight, Najin felt that his convictions had changed. Something had shifted in that hard, unyielding wall. Cracks had appeared, giving him room to accept other things.

That room made him think.

Bernstein had said that the Helmeted Knight could have remained a hero, yet chose not to. That he had chosen to discard his honor and pride. That the hero of the Empire had chosen to kneel in abject submission and survive.

Once, Najin would have struggled to accept it. Now, however, he could give it another thought. He recalled the people he had met in the Outer Lands.

Schlein, the Knight of the Starfire, had chosen duty over honor and pride. The countless hunters Najin had seen in the Outer Lands had chosen survival out of fear of the hell awaiting them after death. And those who refused to relinquish their honor and pride became the Lost, reduced to beasts like the Star of the Horn.

Then what about the Helmeted Knight?

What was he trying to protect? What had made him choose as he did? Recalling their first meeting, Najin murmured without thinking.

"... A hunter."

Had Najin not chosen to challenge him to a duel then, he might truly have been hunted. The Helmeted Knight had genuinely been considering it at the time.

Taking Najin's star.

Then why would he need to steal a star? There was only one reason to steal stars in the Outer Lands.

'Survival.'

He wanted to survive. But not merely for survival's sake. He seemed to have a goal he could only accomplish if he remained alive—a goal so weighty that he would willingly discard even his honor and pride for it.

"Tsk."

Najin clicked his tongue for no particular reason.

He could make guesses. But he did not want to judge the Helmeted Knight on baseless conjecture. Shaking off those thoughts, he glanced beside him. Bright blue hair kept catching the corner of his eye.

There, where he turned his gaze, was a guide who had lately been sticking close to him, trying in this way to assert the role the Helmeted Knight had taken from her.

"Hm?"

It was Merlin, the great Constellation. Pressed right beside Najin, her eyes lit up when he looked at her, as though she had been waiting for him to turn her way.

"What is it? Is there something you want to ask?"

He had not particularly wanted to ask anything, but her reaction made him feel that he ought to ask something.

'No, well. It's nothing much.'

"What is it? Tell me. It doesn't have to be anything important!"

After a moment's thought, Najin spoke. Perhaps that was the wrong expression. In reality, his mouth remained closed. In this case, it would be more fitting to say he thought, or spoke to himself.

'Devils existed in your time, Merlin, and long before that too, didn't they? Primordial beings, like dragons and giants, who appeared when the world was born.'

Najin spoke in his mind.

'And as far as I remember, devils fill their bellies with the souls of sentient beings. They raise their standing that way. Ancient devils aren't powerful because their concepts are strong. They've simply spent a long time fattening themselves on other people's souls.'

"You understand it well. That's the essence of a devil. Devils can never exist independently. They can only survive by living as parasites on concepts, on other people's lives, and on the world."

Merlin affirmed his words.

Najin continued speaking in his mind.

'Does that logic apply to the Emperor of Revelry too? To borrow your description, I mean a Demon King—a devil who has transcended the limits of their race.'

A Demon King. A devil who had attained transcendence.

Unlike devils who lacked a sense of self and lived according to the concepts given to them, these devils had acquired a self. Just as humans overcame their own limits to attain transcendence, devils who surpassed the limits of their race and became transcendent beings were Demon Kings.

Were even Demon Kings bound by that logic?

That was Najin's question.

"They aren't bound by it. Demon Kings are independent beings. But it is still the easiest way. Even though they don't need to, Demon Kings covet souls. That's their nature."

Merlin answered that they were not. But she added that there was no need for them to refrain from doing so, either.

"A devil is still a devil, even if they're a Demon King. Just as a Constellation is still human, no matter how far they've transcended. They can't forget their own nature."

'Then the way they fatten themselves must be the same too?'

Merlin now seemed to be realizing what Najin was getting at. She nodded.

"Yes. The way devils fatten themselves is the same now as it was a thousand years ago."

A method found in countless fairy tales and heroic tales, and in even more history books. Something that had become a common expression in its own right. Najin said the word aloud.

"A bargain."

A bargain with a devil.

3.

How much time had passed?

At the Helmeted Knight's call, Najin rose. Returning to where he had left them, he saw Bernstein sitting on a rock, looking utterly dazed.

"What's wrong with him?"

"Who knows? My story seems to have shocked him."

The Helmeted Knight shrugged.

Najin looked at Bernstein. His head was bowed, and he kept muttering something as though he had lost his mind. It seemed he would need some time.

"..."

Contrary to Najin's expectations, however, Bernstein soon raised his head. His eyes lacked their earlier heat, but it had not died out entirely. A fire flickered within them, ready to blaze up again at any moment.

"What you just told me."

He looked at the Helmeted Knight as he spoke.

"Is all of it true?"

"If you don't believe me, that's the end of it. I have no way to prove it right now."

"That... is true."

Bernstein pressed his lips together.

"Then I won't retract what I said, either. In my eyes, you are still a coward. A fugitive who sullied the Empire's name and failed to fulfill his duty to the end..."

"But," he continued.

"If everything you just told me is true. And if things come to pass as you said, I will take all of it back. Then I will kneel before you, bow my head, and apologize. I will do it gladly."

"There's no need for that. Your anger is justified, and you were entitled to it. To anyone looking on, I am indeed a cowardly fugitive. In truth, I'm not so different from one."

"No. That's not it."

Bernstein shook his head.

"Don't belittle yourself. That attitude only makes me angrier. Don't try to understand me. Don't pity me, either. I don't want to feel any more wretched than I already do."

With that, Bernstein rose. Picking up the sword he had dropped, he turned to Najin.

"Is there something you wish to say?"

"..."

Bernstein struggled to speak.

He had his pride, too. It was hard to smile and speak to the victor after suffering a humiliating defeat. In this situation, however, something else took precedence over pride.

For a moment, Bernstein embraced a value he had long abandoned. Knighthood. The courtesy a knight ought to observe. Holding that faded value in his heart, he spoke.

"Najin, was it?"

"Yes."

"I can't apologize to him yet, but I owe you an apology."

Najin's eyes widened slightly, for Bernstein had bowed his head to him.

"It is wrong to insult a master in front of his pupil. I was rash. You had every reason to be offended. I apologize."

"... I apologize for my insolence as well."

"You were rather insolent. Still, well... you have the skill to justify it."

Only when Najin bowed his head did Bernstein smile. Smiling, he gave Najin a few pats on the shoulder.

"You were excellent. I didn't use my full strength, but even if I had, I doubt the match would have been easily decided. Besides, seeing that swordsmanship again after so long..."

His words trailed off.

When he saw Najin demonstrate the Helmeted Knight's swordsmanship, Bernstein had been furious. Part of it was the inferiority he felt after asking the knight to teach him and being refused. Part of it was a sense of betrayal toward the knight for breaking his oath. But those were not the only emotions he had felt.

"It was good to see it. I'd missed that swordsmanship."

He had felt longing, too.

It was swordsmanship that brought the past to mind. A sword that could remind him, however briefly, of those glorious days. Recalling the past, Bernstein spoke almost to himself.

"Learn it well. That man was once called the empire's greatest swordsman. These days, I can hardly remember the name of his swordsmanship..."

Bernstein pointed to the sword bound at the Helmeted Knight's waist.

"But I do remember that whenever that single sword shone, the Empire always won. I hope you master his swordsmanship. It is worth learning."

With those words, Bernstein turned to the Helmeted Knight one last time. His helmet concealed his gaze, making it impossible to read. Yet Bernstein gave a dry chuckle, as though he could guess what lay behind it.

"Your destination hasn't changed, I take it?"

"It's the same now as it was a hundred and fifty years ago."

"Then we'll meet again there."

"I can't promise how long it will take."

"I've wandered for a hundred and fifty years. A few more years hardly seem likely to make a difference."

Bernstein left.

His steps were weary. Najin could not tell where he was going. Yet Bernstein walked with a clear goal. After watching his retreating back for a while, Najin spoke.

"You must have been quite famous."

"I was rather well known."

"And a hero of the Empire, it seems."

"Somehow, that's what I became."

Najin looked at the sword bound at the Helmeted Knight's waist. A sword wrapped tightly in chains. Though they had traveled together for quite some time, it had never been drawn.

"It's an honor, learning the swordsmanship of an imperial hero."

"When you don't even know my name?"

"Why does that matter? Someday, if I stand before people and declare this the swordsmanship of an imperial hero, that's what it'll be."

"What are you talking about?"

"If a hero wields it, it's a hero's swordsmanship. What else does it need to be?"

The Helmeted Knight burst out laughing.

"Doesn't that only work if you become a hero? Are you planning to be one?"

"I am."

"Don't. It's exhausting and hardly worth doing. I know from experience."

"But there's glory in it, isn't there?"

"Glory is all there is."

"That's enough for me."

The Helmeted Knight laughed. Najin did not. He shrugged and let out a short breath.

Then he casually tossed out a question.

"Did you make a bargain with a devil?"

A strike slipped into their lighthearted conversation.

The Helmeted Knight could not react to it. At Najin's question, his breathing faltered. An unnatural silence hung between them. It did not last long, but for fighters of their caliber, it was an eternity.

His silence was as good as an answer.

Najin was right.

"You made a bargain with the Emperor of Revelry."

Najin added.

The Helmeted Knight smiled bitterly.

"You're damn quick on the uptake."