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Chapter 215
Tears burst from Xenia's eyes.
Fortunately, the pouring rain drowned out the sound of her crying, so it didn't reach Zerion Academy.
I never imagined Xenia would feel guilty over my death.
‘So this is what Isabel meant.’
This is where my lack of emotion shows through.
Now, faced with a weeping Xenia, I must decide what to do.
I have two choices:
Should I reveal that I’m Vikamon and try to calm her down?
Or should I hide my identity and comfort her as I am now?
Even I didn’t know the answer to that.
I am not truly Vikamon.
If anything, I’m the one who took her brother away from this world.
Would it be right for someone like me to pretend to be her brother?
My head grows more and more tangled.
Maybe it's just like me to not be selfish in times like these.
Even so, I didn’t want Xenia to be buried under the weight of losing her family.
She’s still an important figure who will play a vital role moving forward.
The world is reaching its peak of chaos.
The civil war in Panisys still hasn’t ended.
In the Holy Kingdom, the temple faction and the royal faction remain divided.
The Empire is in a fierce struggle between the First Prince and the Third Princess for the throne.
A situation on the verge of explosion.
Every single hero is precious in a time like this.
Having competed before, I know how important mental fortitude is.
Even if Xenia can’t fully accept me, I had to tell her the truth.
“Xenia.”
There was no one else around.
She had made it clear she wanted to talk alone with me, so no one had followed us.
“Vikamon isn’t dead.”
Xenia turned her eyes to me.
Her face showed she hadn’t yet grasped the meaning of my words.
I reached out and touched the air barrier she had set up.
As soon as I did, it froze in place and became a space just for the two of us.
Now no one could see what was happening inside.
I pulled at the bandages of the veil.
My appearance changed, and white hair billowed out.
“I’m Vikamon.”
The scars engraved across my body were hidden thanks to my long-sleeved clothing.
But I couldn’t conceal the scars that extended down to my hands.
One of my eyes had become a dragon’s eye, the remnant of an ancient dragon, and traces of scales were still visible in places.
Those details, hidden even when I moved around without the veil, were now laid bare.
All to show Xenia honestly that I am Vikamon.
I didn’t want her to carry guilt over her brother’s death any longer.
She wasn’t someone who should be held back by something like that.
Xenia stared at me with dazed eyes.
I had no idea what she would say next.
Just as I tensed up slightly—
“…Senior Hannon, you’re saying you’re my brother?”
“To be exact, I’ve been pretending to be Hannon all this time.”
When I corrected her, Xenia still looked blank.
“…You’re doing this to comfort me, aren’t you?”
Huh?
“No, Xenia. I really am your brother.”
“I’m not a fool. I know Senior Hannon has tools that let him perfectly change his appearance.”
She had already seen me transform once before.
So it seemed she thought I was using that same tool now.
“Remember when I mistook someone for Vikamon not long ago? After that, I enhanced my celestial magic and trained to perceive magic more clearly.”
I had heard about this once through Sharin’s Mirinae.
Apparently, Xenia had developed the ability to distinguish mana, albeit not as well as Sharin.
Sharin was someone who had zero interest in others, so even when Vikamon was at school, she hadn’t given him a second glance.
That’s why she didn’t care even if his magical aura changed—because to her, he was just a stranger from the beginning.
But Xenia was different.
Xenia grew up with Vikamon.
Even if she couldn’t consciously discern mana before, she would have instinctively known the color of Vikamon’s aura.
“Senior Hannon’s magic is completely different from Vikamon’s.”
So she ended up distinguishing me and Vikamon as entirely different people.
My face stiffened.
Because what she said was true.
I am not Vikamon.
I’m merely an outsider who borrowed his body.
If magic’s color stems from the soul, then of course it would be different from Vikamon’s.
I never expected Vulcan’s attempt to impersonate Vikamon and deceive Xenia would backfire like this.
Everything has a cause and effect.
“Senior Hannon, it’s okay. You don’t need to lie about this.”
“No, it’s just—”
I opened my mouth.
I had told the truth and revealed my identity, only to be denied.
I didn’t know what more I could say.
“Still…”
Xenia forced a smile through her tear-streaked face.
“Thank you. I understand now that you cared enough to act as my brother for my sake.”
Her fists were clenched tightly.
“If only you really were my brother… I think I could’ve trusted you without a doubt.”
“Xenia, no. Vikamon—”
“Yes, I heard he even sacrificed himself for everyone in the end. There’s no point in belittling him anymore.”
Xenia lowered her head, as if she already knew.
Things had become more complicated than expected.
How was I supposed to unravel this?
I couldn't even blame it on being mixed with Vulcan’s powers, since Xenia had been there during the Vulcan battle.
She had probably already known the color of my magic for a while.
Vikamon no longer existed in this world.
That, I had confirmed for myself during the battle with Vulcan.
So I couldn’t think of a way to make Xenia understand.
If I told her I was a possessor...
Would that solve anything?
Even if it did, it would still mean Vikamon was dead.
That fact wouldn't comfort Xenia in the slightest.
“Still...”
Xenia's eyes met mine.
“I know it sounds stupid.”
She walked toward me with difficulty, her legs heavy, and rested her face against my chest.
There was no strength left in her; she felt like she might break at any moment.
“Just for a little while... Can I call you ‘brother’?”
Guilt and sorrow over losing her real brother.
To overcome it, Xenia confided in me.
Xenia was a perfectionist.
A perfectionist cannot withstand even a single collapse.
Maybe because I had supported her before, to prevent her perfection from crumbling?
Xenia asked me for help once more.
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From me, the very person who had taken her brother away.
Guilt is a form of empathy.
And having lost the ability to feel sorrow, guilt was a hazy emotion for me.
I only understood guilt with my mind now.
But there was one thing I did understand.
A child was crying before me, miserable with grief.
My hand wrapped around Xenia, holding her.
“Go ahead.”
Even if it was selfish of me.
I didn’t want to leave the crying Xenia alone.
I wasn’t Vikamon, but at least the warmth I offered could reach her.
Amid the endlessly falling rain,
Xenia just silently clung to me, tightly.
Someday, I hoped I could tell the girl who lost her brother the truth.
But for now, once again, I could only irresponsibly leave that to the future me.
＊＊＊
Xenia finally managed to calm down.
Still embarrassed that she had shown emotion, the perfectionist couldn’t lift her face, but she looked a little better.
“Xenia.”
“Ah, yes—yes!”
She quickly looked up and answered when I called her.
Her face was still bright red.
“Earlier, you looked like you had more to say.”
A moment ago, it had only been a fleeting reaction from being overwhelmed by emotion.
Judging by her tone, it seemed like she still had more to share.
“Ah, yes, ahem... I’m not sure how important this information is.”
Xenia cleared her throat, trying to collect herself.
“It’s okay. I’ll judge that.”
“Okay. It’s a rumor going around among the nobles.”
Xenia began to calmly speak about what she had heard recently.
“They say... the dead are coming back.”
I blinked.
For a moment, I didn’t understand what she meant.
“The dead... coming back?”
“I’m not sure how it’s happening either. But the rumor is spreading in quite a detailed way.”
The fact that Xenia went out of her way to tell me this meant it held some weight.
I stroked my chin.
Long ago, I’d heard a similar story.
‘The promise of mysticism to bring Centriol’s dead son back to life.’
Centriol—the former cardinal and former paladin.
Now, he loyally serves as the saintess’s escort.
Back then, he betrayed the saintess for his son.
His son, born with a weak body, had to die, and to bring him back, Centriol joined forces with the mystics.
And now, similar rumors were circulating again.
The leader of the mystics, Vulcan, was dead.
Their base had also been destroyed along with him.
So I thought there was no need to worry about the mystics anymore.
But lately, news of a different group had been steadily trickling in.
Even during the Panisys civil war, individuals with mystical powers had assisted the factions.
And now, even in the Empire, that shadow was beginning to emerge.
‘Vulcan, who lacked time, failed to fully take over the mystic arts.’
Where had the remaining mystics gone?
I furrowed my brow.
‘Duke Robliage.’
I believed he had a hand in the Panisys civil war.
And now, I was convinced.
The Duke Robliage had gathered the remnants of the mystic group that Vulcan couldn’t fully claim.
All to make Iris emperor and bend the world to his will.
He had truly started using any means necessary.
‘If such rumors are spreading among nobles, maybe he’s offering to bring back their loved ones in exchange for loyalty.’
Even someone like Centriol, a devout believer, betrayed for the chance to revive his son.
Other nobles would be no different.
But... are these people truly being brought back?
In this world, there exists the concept of reincarnation.
Even Wolfram is a regressor, and I’m a possessor.
Anything could happen in this world.
But because of that, there’s always a terrible price to pay.
“Xenia, could you look into this in more detail?”
“Yes, I understand.”
Something ominous was beginning to stir.
I’d need to get in touch with Duke of Whitewood as well.
When it comes to mysticism, she’s the expert.
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