Chapter 109 Once More
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
I watched Tatia’s back until the shadows swallowed her, then descended once more into the underground cells. There was no real reason—just unfinished business. Compensation, restitution… the only things left within my reach. Small, maybe, but something I had to do.
I wanted to rely on the mayor—she would’ve handled this better than anyone—but she was already drowning in her own work. I couldn’t pile more weight onto her shoulders.
The path down felt shorter this time. Maybe because I wasn’t thinking of anyone else; my steps quickened on their own. When I’m alone, I move like a selfish fool.
”…Old man, you awake?”
”Kid? Where’s Tatia?”
”She went home. Crying.”
The old man’s reaction was fast—too fast. His hand shot out, gripping my collar, dragging me close. His eyes were wild.
”What the hell did you say to her!?”
What I said? Hell, I barely said anything.
”You’ve done nothing wrong. If there’s guilt, I’ll share it. The fault for what happened lies with my own thoughtlessness—that’s all I told her.”
”Don’t lie to me. Then why was she—”
”I told you, damn it!”
He had his own feelings about Tatia, but I didn’t have the patience to entertain his denial.
”Tatia was crying because she thinks she’s the same as that failed experiment over there! She thinks she’s a monster who tramples the people she swore to protect! I told her she wasn’t, but she wouldn’t listen! She said being with me would only taint me—like hell it would! That thing broke her dreams, and you refuse to see it! My optimism, your recklessness—we crushed everything she had! Don’t you dare run from that! If you’re gonna blame me, then what about you? What the hell did you do!?”
Maybe it was wrong to meet his anger with my own—but I couldn’t swallow it down.
”You went along with my plan because you had no other choice! Sure, if I’d kept my mouth shut, maybe this whole tragedy wouldn’t have happened! Maybe none of it!”
The words poured out hollow. Maybe I’d lost control because I was cornered myself. Still the same childish mind, unchanged no matter how much I pretended otherwise.
”Then what the hell does that make you? You let Tatia go to that knight academy while she was breaking apart inside—and you missed the damn brainwashing!”
”That has nothing to do with this!”
”Don’t give me that crap! If you didn’t know what was happening in that school, she could’ve ended up our enemy! You get that, don’t you!?”
The original story had left their fates blank. Ever since Sieve appeared, I’d suspected the truth—maybe these two had turned their blades on each other. Otherwise, why would two people this strong vanish from the stage?
”Do you even remember that the only reason we know about the academy’s idiotic plan is because of Tatia!? If she hadn’t been in that state, she might never have told you anything! She’s one of their key pieces, for gods’ sake! Not just because of the Chutelair name—she’s got royal blood in her veins!”
The old man’s expression shifted. Wait—he didn’t know?
”Hold up. You mean you don’t know exactly whose blood runs in her?”
”Wait… hold on, kid.”
He released my collar and pressed a trembling hand to his forehead. The confusion on his face was genuine.
”What do you mean, royal blood?”
”Come on. The Chutelair family were friends of the founding emperor. One of their daughters even married into the royal line. You didn’t—”
”Do you even understand what you’re saying!?”
Of course I do. We’re talking about her lineage, aren’t we?
”You… how do you even know that?”
”Because it’s common knowledge. It’s in the damn elementary textbooks. Barely a single line, but it’s there.”
Back then, over twenty nations sent daughters to marry into other families—thirty from the nobles alone. Never came up on any test, but it was still written down. I remembered it easily, maybe thanks to the scraps of knowledge from my previous life. Some descendants stepped away from royalty entirely, but I didn’t know the details.
”Not every student remembers that kind of thing, sure—but it’s in the book. Anyone who memorized for exams would’ve known.”
The old man fell silent, eyes wide. So it really wasn’t written in his time?
”…You seriously didn’t know?”
He nodded, and I was left speechless.
”…But her age doesn’t match up, does it?”
”Just because she carries a trace of the Nightkin doesn’t mean she’s immortal. And do you even know how often the Chutelair line changed heads?”
I wasn’t saying Tatia was the emperor’s granddaughter. Maybe a great-grandchild, at best. The old emperor had been… prolific, let’s say. It ran in the family.
Anyway, the original Chutelair couple were long dead—normal humans who’d lived full lives. Their younger daughter, though, was still alive, a mother of three and sainted by the war god himself through sheer stubbornness. Mixed blood shortens lifespan; even for a Nightkin, living past 150 is rare. Tatia’s ears lacked their sharpness—the blood had thinned. But even diluted, it was royal.
”The current head of Chutelair’s a woman, right? But she had a younger brother, didn’t she? He’s been out of the public eye for years… on ‘medical leave,’ they said. So that means Tatia’s father…”
Right. He’d worked in diplomacy, but before I was born, there’d been an accident abroad. Never came back. It all connected now. A man praised for his balance of strength and kindness—until he lost everything. If the rumors were true, if he’d been attacked by an angelic race and his wife killed, leaving him to raise the child alone… yeah, that would shatter anyone.
The old man’s face twisted with memory, raw and pained. Maybe he’d been the one asked to take the girl away. Maybe Tatia’s father couldn’t bear to see her without reliving that day.
”Hey, kid.”
”If you’re about to tell me not to spread word about Tatia’s lineage, don’t worry—I know. Do I look that stupid?”
Some things shouldn’t be spoken aloud. Royal blood. A mother accused of murdering her husband’s wife and carrying his child. No one needs to hear that, least of all Tatia. She’d run straight toward death herself.
”Anyway, what now? That mock bird over there—think the enemy’s Central Administration would even pay ransom or reparations for it?”
”That’s…”
”This one’s on me. I’ll sell off a few patents, use the money for compensation, rebuild the shops in the commercial district.”
”Kid.”
”And you? What’s your move, Defense Chief?”
The best I could offer were my ‘Egg’ prototypes and the home-use mana reactors, but those patents were tangled with the Torakuma family’s rights. Maybe I’d sell the strengthened copper designs instead—something the merchant guild master would bite at. I’d have to ask the mayor’s advice, though. She’d know what strings to pull.
”I…”
”If you’re planning to resign, wait until the student uprisings are over. We can’t afford to lose manpower now.”
The old man said nothing. Maybe he had less political sense than I thought.
”Fine. I’m done—talking with you won’t find a solution. I’ll take it to the City Mayor.”
The old man said nothing. I cut my losses with Rogas and turned away. Before leaving, I spared a glance for that mock-bird—Tori-modoki—and words slipped out of me before I could bite them back.
”Hey, bird. How’s it feel to live on after smashing a girl’s dream to pieces?”
”W-what are you saying~?”
”I never expected you to understand, so listen one-way: you should’ve killed yourself when you gave birth to her, you pest.”
I left without waiting for a response. A barren hour wasted. Truly, I’d thrown away time.
Outside the underground passage a figure waited.
”…You’re late, Julon.”
”Sorry to have kept you, Calmys-san.”
Fully armed and arms folded, Calmys-san looked absurdly conspicuous—yet the chaos had drawn people elsewhere, so she wasn’t as visible as I’d thought.
”My lord awaits. It seems you have matters to speak of?”
”If we’re to say the same things to each other, that’ll do.”
I wanted to confess the sins and punishments I ought to shoulder. But what did the City Mayor want to say to me?
I followed Calmys-san and we reached the Central Administration where the mayor sat. The direct route runs past the commercial district, but Calmys-san detoured—either because the market was still closed or she was trying to spare me from something. I couldn’t tell which, only that the small mercy steadied me a little. I knew I’d unravel if I stepped in there as I was.
”We’re here. Don’t make a scene.”
”I will be careful.”
After a brief warning at the door, she led me in. Calmys-san watched me with concern then spoke low.
”Julon, this isn’t your fault. Don’t fall on yourself.”
”No. It is my fault. If I hadn’t insisted the girl’s wings be accepted—or if I hadn’t relied on her mother—none of this would have happened.”
”That’s what I mean by brooding.”
Her voice carried a chastising weight. It made me flinch.
”Listen, Julon. This isn’t your fault. I erred in thinking an acquaintance from the Angel race would think like a human. But even I—who’ve lived two centuries, not twenty years—didn’t expect her to bear a child and still fail to grasp human thought. You’re young; even I couldn’t predict that.”
Calmys-san’s words grew firmer, heated by something deeper. Kind, even while scolding. But I was too raw to accept kindness.
”I behaved like a sulking child and caused this ruin. You called it child’s play, the Crafter’s games—we failed at basic risk management.”
Before I could finish, Calmys-san grabbed my collar. Her eyes burned with anger.
”Take that back, Julon. Do not call your work a game.”
Her quiet command rang with fury and a trace of sorrow.
”Take back the word that your work is play. Don’t belittle your own pride. Don’t defile the ‘pride’ you entrusted to me.”
Her voice trembled, small but fierce. I realized then why she’d come late—she blamed herself too. The city lauded her as its strongest blade, yet she’d failed to join the battle to protect her lord. Even a war-god–blessed saint could be haunted by that.
”Calmys-san, I’m proud to have given you that sword. But please—don’t bind yourself to this.”
I loosened her grip and took her hand; it was smaller than mine, but the weight it supported was enormous. Leaving Calmys-san bowed in thought, I entered the mayor’s office. She sat on the visitor’s sofa, expression unreadable.
”Sit.”
”Yes.”
I took the opposite seat. The cushion was comfortable, but I felt like I sat in an electric chair.
”Can you tell me how things unfolded?”
”Yes. First—”
I recounted the sequence from the Tori-modoki attack onward. When I mentioned the city’s defensive barrier being breached and the arrival of the Yoidete faction, the mayor’s headache deepened. I told her we’d distributed a thousand healing ointments on the spot, and that had reduced the death toll. She seemed a little relieved by that fact, but I could feel the pressure mounting—there were worse burdens ahead.
”So, when we argued whether to kill the captured Angel race, the Defense Chief intervened. Because he’s a foreign general, he stopped the killing. Words were exchanged…and then he claimed responsibility for inviting them.”
”…That’s catastrophic.”
The mayor pressed her hands to her temples. I could tell I was about to become more trouble rather than less.
”Mayor, I came to ask—”
”Yes?”
”I’m the cause of this incident. I should pay compensation. I planned to sell some patents to fund it.”
”Denied.”
She dismissed my proposal instantly. Her gaze was almost cold; anger flickered there.
”If the Whirlwind brought the Angel race in, then Rogas alone must bear that blame. Besides, you led the defense and handed out a thousand healing ointments—didn’t you save lives?”
Her tone shifted between irritation and incredulity as she continued.
”If you personally fund compensation like that, the city will resent it.”
”Then—what about raising relief funds?”
”That might be tolerable. But do you understand you’re also a victim here? You’d be taking money that victims are supposed to receive.”
”But I’m the next Chief Crafter—”
”That’s exactly the problem.”
She cut me off, eyes bright with anger.
”I stood as your guardian and groomed you to be a successor in this city’s leadership, and yet you were nearly killed. From what you told me, you might suffer long-term harm—you’re talking to me now by sheer miracle. To then demand you be the one to compensate, when the victims you’d be paying are the very people who suffered…they won’t forgive it.”
Maybe she was right. If I’d repelled the Tori-modoki sooner, fewer would have been hurt.
”If you insist on compensating, fix the destroyed houses and belongings. You can handle that, can’t you?”
”Well—depending on the damage in the commercial district, I could rebuild in a day.”
”You’re underestimating how fast it got worse.”
Beyond the stalls, other buildings had taken hits. Still, the Whirlwind’s structures were sturdy; if fewer than five houses crumbled, I could restore them—furniture and all—in a single day. My ability had improved that much.
”I haven’t checked yet, but how bad’s the damage? The collapsed houses, the stalls?”
”Eight homes with shattered windows, two with damaged outer walls, two collapsed, and twelve ruined stalls.”
”I can finish all that in half a day.”
”…Then tomorrow, you rebuild it all yourself. Compensation, restoration—done.”
The mayor rubbed her temples as if I’d just given her another headache.
”Still, just repairs aren’t enough—”
”Having their homes restored is already—”
”There are families who lost people! You think fixing a few walls is enough!?”
I cut her off before she could finish.
”People lost children, parents, lovers—and you think giving them a roof makes it fine? No! They’ll need time to mourn. They’ll need money just to live. And I caused this. I can’t expect forgiveness for a bit of carpentry!”
If I hadn’t tried to make Tatia’s wings accepted—if I hadn’t spoken so rashly—the Defense Chief would never have brought that creature into the city.
It all circled back to me. My idea, my arrogance. So I’d pay the price, even if it meant tearing myself apart.
”I bragged about having Tatia’s armor recognized by this city, and this is what came of it… pathetic.”
”…Tatara.”
”When the Defense Chief said, ‘This isn’t a child’s game,’ he was right. I managed risks like a kid playing house. Genius, prodigy—whatever they called me, it was just childish pride. This was the price.”
The mayor stood and, before I could react, slapped me hard across the face.
”…Feel better, now that you’ve cast yourself as the tragic hero?”
Her voice was cold.
”You’re right that your risk control failed. But if I’d faced the same situation under the same conditions, I’d have ended in the same tragedy.”
She slammed a bundle of papers—interrogation records, by the look of them—onto the table between us.
”First of all, no one expects a kid to anticipate that the adults they trust will completely fail them. That idiot had connections with the Angel race and still botched the response from the start!”
The mayor exploded—righteous fury, fierce and sharp.
”And the Defense Chief—the city’s top of defense!—was off doing his usual patrols while the attack hit!? What kind of joke is that!?”
Her tone carried something more personal, maybe old anger from their school days.
”Tatia—who Calmys herself said had no talent for combat—fought to buy time, nearly died doing it, and what does he do? Shows up late to say ‘Don’t kill her’ and ‘It’s my fault’!? The right move was to restrain and confine her first, then decide punishment later! That way I could’ve handled it quietly and covered the reparations myself! But no, he had to make his own excuse to resign! For god’s sake, even the child handled it better! He could’ve left the decision to me or the Central Administration—something! But no!”
I stared, half-stunned. Surely this wasn’t all my inventions fueling her stress… right?
”And now you—this mentally shattered kid—trying to pay with your own pocket money while he stands frozen like a broken doll! He hasn’t changed since school!”
”…Actually, City Mayor.”
”What!?”
”Tatia’s bloodline—the royal one… did you know?”
At once, her fury vanished, like a flame snuffed by cold wind.
”…You knew?”
”Well, yeah. The Chutelair head at the time was a close friend of the founding emperor. It even says in the textbook—tiny note about his son marrying into their line.”
The mayor sighed heavily.
”You… memorized your elementary textbooks, didn’t you?”
”Not all of it. Just the parts that might show up on tests.”
”And somehow you remembered the one thing that never would.”
It’s our own royal history! Why would that be treated like trivia?
”That small mention was intentional,” she explained. “They wanted to make it seem unimportant—hide it among fifty other names so no one noticed.”
”Ethelena didn’t notice,” I admitted.
She hadn’t. If she had, her panic would’ve shown.
”And you caught the Chutelair name, of all things?”
”How could I miss one of our great noble houses?”
”…If your father or Rogas heard that, they’d scold you for showing them up.”
So both of them were in the ‘couldn’t study’ camp. Great.
”Our royal bloodline, the Chutelair nobles, and now a foreign general from the Angel race—all that, wrapped into one girl. Wings on her back, a cursed lineage, and she meets you—the city’s biggest walking disaster. When I found out, my head genuinely hurt.”
Right, she had once called us a “catastrophe combo.”
”And then, just when that girl starts showing signs of human emotion, I get reports she’s caught up in a coup plot at the knight school! I thought the gods were trying to explode my stomach.”
”That one wasn’t my idea.”
”If anything, you were dragged in! You made your decision fast—stood with us for the city’s sake and your comrades’. That’s what’s so damn weird.”
She had a strange way of complimenting me.
”I’ve already talked to the vigilante corps’ captain. Told them about the knight school mess. They haven’t gone public yet.”
”They did approve private carrying of Sticky Launchers. Someone even came to me for a custom one yesterday.”
”The fact they’d request you worries me. You didn’t build something reckless again, did you?”
”It was a small rapid-fire model. Not my best work.”
Various experimental materials, but she didn’t need to know that.
”…You didn’t use better materials than what’s sold publicly, did you?”
”I didn’t.”
”Look me in the eyes and say that.”
How does she always know? If I explain, she’ll just yell at me for underselling it.
”If you charged properly, I won’t complain. So—what did you use?”
”….”
”If you keep quiet, I’ll send you, Ethelena, and Yohira to Hizuru until the coup’s over. You won’t come back.”
”…Fine. The outer shell’s Demonsteel. The inside’s Mithril.”
She sighed, exasperated. “You’re impossible. But tell me this—why do you resist evacuation so much?”
Because I didn’t want to leave.
”This city has people I care about. I want to protect them. I told you that before.”
”…And you’d better understand that we want to protect you, too.”
Then she pulled me into a hug. Her heartbeat was steady, warm.
”Tatara, we’ve gone in circles, but remember this one thing—none of this is your fault. Not yours, not Tatia’s.”
”But—”
”There’s nothing to apologize for. This failure belongs to the adults. Not to you children.”
She ruffled my hair—gently, but it still stung. To her, I was just a child. But I was the next Chief Crafter. A future city leader. Someone who should carry responsibility.
”This Angel race—did you summon them yourself?”
”No. But I was the one who asked.”
”That’s not the same. Taking Tatia’s circumstances into account, it was simply the option without religious conflict. Calmys’s suggestion to call upon the war god’s angels wasn’t accepted because Rogas mishandled it. He cared too much about bloodlines and appearances, and made the wrong call.”
That didn’t sit right. A royal bloodline choosing a faith freely could have split the national church into factions. He couldn’t have chosen that path without igniting another war. It wasn’t cowardice—it was necessity.
”Besides, even among the royal family, it’s not unusual for faiths to differ. The Dark Goddess’s saint, the war god’s saint, even a maiden’s saint—all under the same roof.”
…Right. There were even princesses from distant lands who worshiped dragon gods or ancient demons. Some of the old chronicles called their holy conflicts ‘night services’—bloody rituals dressed as sacred wars. The founding emperor had united them all, single-handedly, through sheer divine audacity.
”So even if Tatia joined the war god’s church, this country wouldn’t crumble over it.”
”…If only we’d known that then.”
If I’d known about Tatia’s lineage at the time, I might have accepted Calmys-san’s plan. I remembered a certain angel from the game’s past—a follower of the war god, fierce yet kind, fond of sweets she didn’t need to eat. She’d even opened a café for humans, a strange but gentle creature who’d lost her faith in her creator. One of the few angels who understood people. A so-called “True Angel,” like Almeria—a rejected masterpiece.
”…The one Calmys-san wanted to recommend—she’s the only angel of the war god’s faith, isn’t she?”
”Most likely the one you’re thinking of.”
”Yeah… if it were her, I could’ve trusted her.”
Only Calmys could have reached her, saint to saint. A near-perfect choice. A rare angel who could think like a human, one with political sense and power both. The kind of trump card any leader would kill for.
There might have been another—an alchemist who’d defected to the Maiden’s faith—but honestly, anyone except the Defense Chief could’ve made a better move.
”I thought I was acting for Tatia’s sake, but I chose the one path that hurt her most.”
”Everyone makes mistakes. The difference is, you still have time to fix yours.”
”But—”
”Hold yourself together, Tatara. Your companions—they haven’t gone beyond your reach yet, have they?”
Something stirred inside me. She was right. It wasn’t over. Tatia was alive. So was I. The coup hadn’t even begun. There was still time.
Maybe I couldn’t have her wings officially recognized, but I could still help her be acknowledged as a knight. Then, slowly, I’d find a way to earn acceptance for those wings.
Giving up was easy. Believing—that’s what companions do.
”I’m sorry, City Mayor. For all this.”
”Don’t be. I’m your guardian, remember?”
She smiled faintly. Always saving me, this woman.
”If you’re set on paying damages, calm down first. And absolutely no selling your patents, understood?”
”Wait, but—”
”The inventions you’ve created aren’t just valuable—they’re irreplaceable. Don’t you dare hand over their rights.”
Patents… my proof of invention. She was right that they were worth more than I’d ever admit. But without selling them, how could I raise enough funds?
”The things you make are more precious than you realize. The ‘Eggs,’ the home Mana Reactors—you’re the reason those even exist. Some inventions only entered the world because of you.”
Was she referring to things like the ‘Hoihoi’ or ‘Torimochi’? Devices I’d priced low for accessibility’s sake?
”You lowered your patent fees so your disciples could sell Demonsteel and Shape Memory Alloy cheaply after you left. That’s why prices stayed reasonable. If it weren’t for your restraint, the cost of those reactors would’ve been ten times higher.”
”I’d rather not think about that…”
If a home-use Mana Reactor cost billions, no one could afford one. I’d need another way entirely.
”So hold on to your patents. Don’t let anyone reduce your work to money alone.”
Her words made me nod. Memories from another life came rushing back—of a nation that sold its technology too cheaply, only to have foreign powers patent it and crush its own industry. I couldn’t let that happen here—not to this city, not to this country.
I would protect my inventions, no matter what.
”And besides,” she added, “you’ve got easier ways to get funds.”
”I do?”
She sighed, exasperated, and drew a short katana from her sleeve—the small ‘Yakukiri’ blade I’d given her for protection.
”Send this to the royal family. That alone will move the crown to provide compensation for the victims.”
”…You think it’ll really be that simple?”
”If they receive something of this caliber and don’t respond, it’ll shame the entire nation.”
I must’ve looked skeptical, because she frowned. Sure, it was a national-treasure-level blade, said to cut misfortune itself—but could it really outshine what the royals already had? They descended from the founder, after all.
”Anyway,” she said, tone softening, “if you’re that worried, just make another one. Send it to me. I’ll make sure Homeland moves.”
”…How many should I craft?”
”One is enough. How many can you make at once?”
”Five right now. Yours is one of them.”
”…You’re absurd, you know that?”
The mayor sighed again, somewhere between awe and disbelief.
Notes:
• Rogas – Tatara’s father friend.
• Calmys – War God’s knight, Mayor’s guard chief, whip-master hiding as a swordswoman; sharp tongue, big-sister vibe to Tatara, grants him and Ethelena church protection.
• Yohira – Torakuma’s first name.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
Thanks for reading.
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