Time passed.

On rainy days, Najin visited the tavern to play with Violet. On days without rain, he sought out other musicians and watched them perform in person.

Then he stole their performances. In this case, he had no intention of calling it “learning.” To his mind, what he was doing was closer to theft.

'This is different from learning swordsmanship.'

When Najin copied another person's sword, he understood the philosophy and life within it, then reinterpreted them through his own sword. That could be called learning. Music was different.

He did not understand the musician's philosophy within a performance. He merely stole its form as he pleased.

Of course, even copying that form alone improved his playing by the day. He could not reach the realm of a virtuoso, but he could come close to the level just below it.

“I did think that talent of yours would work for anything involving moving your body, but...”

Watching him, Merlin gave Najin an incredulous look.

“Seeing it happen is just ridiculous. How does that make any sense?”

“I've been thinking much the same thing.”

Still, in his defense, such imitation was only possible because he had honed his body to its limits. Unlike the musicians' bodies, the physical abilities Najin had acquired through training allowed him to control his strength down to the finest detail.

In any event, he kept taking steps forward.

Within this dream, where everything stagnated and the same stretch of time merely repeated, Najin alone steadily advanced.

“Ah...”

And...

“Honestly, you...”

The steps Najin took left footprints. Someone was following behind, watching those footprints.

“How did you do it? Goodness, does this make any sense? A week! You've improved this much in just one week...”

“I've always been rather gifted.”

“Gifted doesn't begin to describe it! Goodness, I wish the other musicians could have seen this! Could we try this piece, too? I've wanted to play it!”

“I'm fine with that, but... Merlin?”

“W-wait. I'm reading the score.”

Violet joined the momentum Najin had created. After what must have been an unimaginably long time playing the piano alone in this tavern, she sincerely welcomed the guests who came to see her twice a week.

“It's good to see you, Najin!”

She no longer called him a stranger. Nor was she already playing the piano when he arrived. Instead, she set a chair outside the tavern and waited, then went inside with him when he came.

“How about this one today?”

Each time, she found a new piece.

“Ah, honestly...”

She smiled brightly as she played the keys. It was not a smile she forced out. She burst into laughter as though she could not contain her delight.

“You know, I love playing the piano so much. Playing puts my heart at ease. Whatever happened yesterday, whatever I have to face tomorrow, I can forget all of it while I'm playing.”

She caressed the keys. Her snow-white fingers lightly touched them.

“While I'm sitting here, I can be a musician. What I've wanted so badly...”

While the music continued, she never hid her emotions. She laughed, furrowed her brows when she missed a beat, and let out a long, relieved breath when the performance ended. Here, at least, she could be Violet.

An old tavern. A place full of dust-covered instruments.

It was far too shabby and unimpressive to serve as a transcendent being's sanctuary. But for the human being named Violet, this much space was enough. She needed no splendid instruments, no grand orchestra, no vast audience to listen to her playing. None of it.

An old instrument, an old tavern, and a single listener.

That was all the human being named Violet needed to go on living. But Najin had no intention of letting her merely go on living.

So he added weight to the scales.

He did everything he could to tip them away from Viola Ordina and toward Violet, so that she could feel happy, at least in these moments.

“Najin.”

And Violet smiled.

“Thank you.”

Time passed. Slowly, but surely.

2.

Time passed, and the performance continued.

And the performance drew toward its end. Toward the end of the score. But what lay at the end of the score was not an ending, but repetition. The dream Viola Ordina had created had no end.

Da capo.

Return to the beginning and play again.

Najin advanced toward the point marked with the repeat sign that must have made this performance recur hundreds of times. When he looked back, Violet was following him.

She was walking in the footprints he had left.

Najin had brought change to a daily life that had remained unchanged for centuries. Drawn by that change, Violet was moving forward with a clear direction, rather than repeating herself.

'Here.'

Najin stopped for a moment.

One more step remained before the Kingdom of Kassel's destruction. Ahead of him lay the repeat sign. He stopped before that symbol.

The choice was no longer his to make.

SHHHHHHH.

Rain was pouring down. This was probably the last rain. Once it stopped and the next morning dawned, Violet would lose herself.

DRIP, DRIP, DRIP...

At the corner of the building, where rainwater dripped down, Violet sat in the chair outside the tavern. She was wearing gloves. The woman who had said she hated gloves because she could not feel the keys through them was wearing them today.

She had curled both hands inward and rested them gently on her thighs, as though she did not want anyone to see her fingers. Already concealed by her gloves, she curled them in again to hide them completely.

Najin came to a stop before her, his foot landing softly.

Ordinarily, Violet would have risen at this point and led him inside. Today, she did not. Instead, she raised her head and looked up at him.

“...”

Her lips moved uncertainly, as though she did not know how or where to begin.

Najin briefly turned his head and met Merlin's eyes. No conversation was needed. A glance and a nod were enough. Merlin shrugged as though she understood what he was trying to say.

Do whatever you want.

That was what it meant. Najin gave a small chuckle and turned his attention back to Violet.

“Violet. Do you happen to like rain?”

“... Pardon?”

It was a rather unexpected question.

As Violet blinked, Najin offered her his hand.

“Shall we take a short walk? If you don't mind getting rained on.”

“... Ah.”

Realizing his consideration, Violet smiled faintly. She slowly nodded, then took his offered hand.

“Shall we? I like being out in the rain.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. Long ago, I sometimes spent an entire rainy day standing absentmindedly in the street. I liked the sound of the rain. What about you, Najin?”

“Well, I don't dislike it.”

Rain poured down in torrents.

The two walked through the streets, unconcerned as the rain soaked their hair and clothes.

“It's such a shame.”

Soaked through and translucent, her gloves could no longer serve their purpose of hiding her hands. Violet took them off, revealing fingers that had rotted black.

“I wanted to play more.”

“...”

“I won't be able to play the keys with hands like these. What a shame. Still, thanks to you, I think I've played to my heart's content this past month. I've played every piece I wanted to try, too...”

She took a light step forward. Standing one step ahead of Najin, she looked back.

“You knew, didn't you? Who I am.”

Najin nodded.

“And you didn't make a point of revealing it or asking because you were being considerate of me?”

At that question, Najin tilted his head.

“Considerate? Aren't you Violet?”

“... Aha.”

“Honestly, just how far...” Violet murmured.

Najin interrupted her murmur.

“So.”

He looked straight at Violet.

“Whatever you tell me from now on, I'll take it as the story of Violet, who's standing before me. Not that gloomy-looking person with the expression of someone at death's door.”

“Did my expression look that gloomy?”

“Yes. Enough to drain the life out of anyone watching.”

Violet chuckled.

“Then would you listen to my story? I'd like to complain a little, at least.”

“Of course. We have plenty of time.”

Violet walked through the pouring rain. She led, and Najin followed.

“I hate swords.”

She began as though talking to herself.

“My father and mother were stabbed to death right before my eyes. Isn't it only natural that I'd hate them? But what I hated even more was that I had a talent for the sword.”

She spoke of a past she had never told anyone about.

“I'm frightened whenever I hold a sword. My body moves on its own. On its own, completely on its own. Where to cut, where and how to carve something out... those things just come to me naturally. Then my body reflexively moves in the best possible direction. As though it isn't my body at all.”

A talent someone else might have desperately wished for.

“The head of House Ordina saw that and adopted me. He said I had talent. The talent to become a Sword Master, no less. He forced a sword into my hands. Then he put me on the front lines. Told me to kill the enemies invading this country. Said my talent had to be used for this country.”

But...

“They said this country would fall if I didn't do it. That it would be conquered, or something? So they said I had to.”

It was a talent Violet had never wanted in the slightest.

“So I killed the enemies. Blood splashes, screams ring out. The blood leaves long streaks across my face, corpses roll around before my eyes, and I watch it all without any expression. Even though I killed them? Why? Because it doesn't feel like I killed them. My body moves on its own, so why is that me? Why do they say I did it?”

The pouring rain battered Violet's body.

“After killing and killing like that, they said I'd become a Sword Seeker. After doing it for a long time after that, they said I'd become a Sword Master. A transcendent being, that's what I was. They said I was this country's protector, its guardian deity, its hero.”

She let out a hollow laugh.

“Then Ladon appeared. Truly, just meeting its eyes was terrifying. This dreadful dragon appeared, and I couldn't even begin to imagine how to cut it... and they said I had to step forward again? I didn't want to, but they said the country would fall again if I didn't. Again, again!”

She shouted. But the streets were empty. Only the sound of the rain quietly buried her voice.

“I fight every day.”

She disheveled her hair.

“There's no end in sight. After a fight, my body is a wreck. It's hard even to walk. I don't know how long I have to keep doing this. Just...”

Her teeth audibly ground together. Her once-white hair had turned black before they knew it. Viola Ordina scratched her forearm with her nails.

“I'm not a hero. I'm just scared.”

Her arms fell limply to her sides.

“If I don't do it, if I don't act, nearly a million people will die... and I can't escape that responsibility, either. Why? Because people think I'm a hero. Why? Because I'm their protector.”

Because it was only natural that she should do it.

Because, to them, it was their right.

“I don't have the courage to shout back and ask why it's my responsibility, or the courage to run away. I've simply lived like this, as though being hunted, because I'm afraid. How can I be a hero when none of it is my own choice?”

She turned to Najin.

“I can't be a hero. I'm just a mentally ill woman plagued by compulsions. A mentally ill woman without even the courage to take responsibility...”

Her lips were trembling.

“This is who I really am. Isn't it laughable?”

3.

He had heard those words before.

And yet they were different this time. Najin sensed that the scales had tipped toward Violet. It seemed the past month's efforts had not been meaningless.

The human being before him, Violet, was agonizing.

Originally, the entity called Viola Ordina had been completely detached from Violet. Now, however, the line between them had blurred. Najin did not miss that.

“Why is that laughable?”

“... Pardon?”

Najin answered her question with a question.

“Did you want to become a hero?”

“... No. Not at all.”

“Then doesn't that mean you spent sixty-seven years being something you didn't want to be, doing something you didn't want to do?”

“...”

“Whether it was out of fear or compulsion, you protected this country for an entire sixty-seven years. Long enough for them to consider it everyday life. I really don't understand what's laughable about that.”

Najin said bluntly,

“Haven't you done enough? Sixty-seven years of doing it for them is plenty. It's strange to expect anything more.”

“But if I don't...”

“They'll die. So you have to do it?”

“Because I'm the only one...”

Najin smiled at Violet's answer.

“Do you know what the world calls someone who does good despite having no obligation, no reason to do so?”

“...”

“A hero. A knight, too.”

Only now did Najin tell Violet what he had wanted to tell her that day, before the world had reset.

“Aren't you already a hero? Denying it doesn't change that fact.”

“Me, a hero?”

“Yes, you.”

Violet opened and closed her mouth repeatedly, then let out an incredulous, hollow laugh.

“Didn't you just say I was Violet?”

“Yes. You are Violet.”

“Isn't Viola Ordina the hero?”

“In the end, isn't she you as well? If Viola Ordina were someone else to you, would you even need to agonize like this?”

“That's sophistry. This isn't such a simple matter...”

“It's also a sound argument. There's only a paper-thin difference between the two. It depends on how you take it. And if you have a choice, why not take it in the better light?”

Violet laughed, as though she found herself ridiculous for having poured out all these worries. She swept her hair back.

“If you brush aside something I've agonized over for nearly a hundred years so easily, you make me look ridiculous.”

“What's ridiculous about it? Someone I know has spent a thousand years agonizing and regretting things. A hundred years is hardly anything.”

“So,” Najin said, looking at Violet.

“What does the hero who protected this country for so long want to be? In her final moments, I mean.”

“... According to you, I've lived as a hero for over a hundred years, then?”

“That would be right.”

“I've done it enough to be sick of it. I'd like to retire now.”

“And then?”

“At least at the end, I want to remain a musician. Is that wrong? Running away at the end after enduring so well all this time.”

“Not at all.”

Najin shook his head.

Then he spoke.

“If a hero retires, someone will have to take her place. Unfortunately, there doesn't seem to be anyone in this country who can do that...”

“...”

“Fortunately, there's someone right here.”

Najin grinned.

Then he pointed at himself.

“An idiot who wants to be a hero.”

“Are you serious? This isn't something you can speak of so lightly.”

“Speaking is always easy. The question is whether you can prove it... but that won't be much of a problem in this case.”

Najin pointed toward the sky.

“I'm rather good at slaying dragons.”

The star of dragonslaying.

Najin's second star sparkled.