Chapter 625 - 612: No care

[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: Heart Kingdom]

[Pulchritudo]

Getting back to the inn had not taken long.

The walk through the city had been relatively uneventful, especially compared to everything that had happened earlier that night. Shuten-dōji had remained beside Mikoto for most of the journey, but neither of them had made much effort to fill the silence. There had been no need to. Whatever Shuten had said to him before they left had clearly given her something to think about, and Mikoto had noticed the way she occasionally seemed to retreat into her own thoughts while they walked.

She had seemed to be digesting what he had told her.

Mikoto had not minded; if anything, he preferred it.

Silence required nothing from him. It did not ask him to explain himself, defend what he had said, or try to put feelings into words that he barely understood himself. After spending so much time talking about things he normally kept buried, the quiet had been almost reassuring.

Now, back in his room, Mikoto stood near the window and looked down over the city streets below.

The night had settled over the city, leaving the streets scattered with light from lamps and windows. From this height, the people moving below were little more than distant shapes, their voices too faint to reach him. It was peaceful in a way.

Mikoto stood with his delicate arms folded loosely across his chest, his attention resting somewhere beyond the glass.

He was not thinking particularly hard.

For once, he was simply allowing his thoughts to drift.

("That’s the first time I bothered saying anything about my issues to someone.")

The realization came idly.

He had spoken about his family and the missing pieces of his memories. As well as the changes within himself and the person he used to be. These were things he had avoided discussing even with himself, yet somehow they found their way into a conversation with Shuten-dōji.

Mikoto stared through the window for another moment, his expression remaining largely unchanged.

("Can’t say there’s a big change after saying all that, though.") There wasn’t some sudden sense of clarity waiting for him. Nothing had been solved; his memories were still incomplete. The holes in his mind remained exactly where they had been before. Whatever was happening to him had not suddenly become easier to understand simply because he had finally admitted that it bothered him.

But there was something; it was faint enough that Mikoto almost dismissed it. His shoulders felt slightly lighter, only slightly.

It was difficult to even describe. There was no dramatic release of tension or overwhelming sense of peace. It was simply as though some minute burden had been taken from him without him realizing how much weight it had carried in the first place.

Mikoto shifted his posture against the window, his arms still folded; he couldn’t deny that he noticed it.

But feeling lighter was not the same as feeling liberated.

He was not suddenly free of the things that had been troubling him. He was not healed, and he was not even particularly comfortable with what he had done.

Still, the effect was there.

("Feeling better with just a bit of talking, huh? How human of me.") There was a trace of humor in the thought, a very small one.

Mikoto almost found the idea amusing.

Apparently, saying things aloud really did help.

The thought might have remained harmless if not for the other feeling that followed it. There was another part of him that did not find the experience amusing at all. That part of him felt disgust at the prospect, disgust at having exposed something vulnerable.

Disgust at having admitted weakness.

Disgust, perhaps, at needing someone else simply to make the weight inside his head a little easier to carry.

Mikoto knew very well which part of him that was; he simply chose to ignore it.

His gaze remained fixed on the city below, refusing to give the thought any more attention than it deserved.

("Still, that Goiim is nowhere to be seen.") His eyes moved slightly across the streets, though he wasn’t actually looking for her. ("I guess she’s coming tomorrow. Works for me.")

That suited him.

He was not really tired. The night’s events had not exhausted him in the conventional sense, and sleep did not particularly appeal to him yet. But he could certainly do without the scheming woman. The less time he had to spend listening to Goiim speak in half-truths and carefully chosen words, the better.

The thought had barely passed through his mind when the door to his room opened.

Mikoto’s attention shifted immediately; he turned away from the window and watched the doorway.

Gretel stepped inside.

She did not look like the same; her appearance alone told him enough. The older girl looked exhausted. Her clothes were dirtied from everything she had been through, several parts of her attire torn or damaged. Her tied hair had come loose in places and sat in disarray.

And her rapier was missing.

Mikoto noticed that almost immediately, Gretel, however, did not appear to notice that he had noticed.

She shut the door behind herself and finally looked toward him.

Her eyes settled on him.

"Mikoto."

There was a pensive tone in the word; it sounded more like she was trying to determine what she was looking at.

Mikoto studied her for a moment before his expression flattened into its usual indifference.

"You look like shit." The words came without hesitation.

Gretel stared at him, then she released a tired breath through her nose.

"Yeah, well, it was a pretty rough night. More rough than I would’ve liked, honestly. That princess was tougher than she looked."

Her voice carried the exhaustion she had been trying to ignore since entering the room.

She crossed the room without ceremony and dropped herself into one of the beds. The motion was not graceful, nor did she seem particularly interested in making it so. She simply sat, leaning back slightly.

Mikoto’s eyes briefly followed her, his attention then returned toward the window.

"You win?" There was almost no curiosity in his voice.

Gretel caught that as she rubbed one hand against the other, her fingers lingering for a moment as if remembering the fight.

"We stopped fighting because..." she began, only to trail off.

The hesitation was noticeable; her eyes shifted away from Mikoto. She seemed unsure whether she should continue.

Gretel swallowed quietly before continuing.

"But the estate was destroyed, and I decided to help her with the relief efforts. There wasn’t really much point in continuing the fight after that. People were hurt, and some of them were dead. Whatever was between us could wait."

There was a heaviness behind the words that had not been present when she first entered.

Mikoto’s gaze returned to her; he watched her for a moment.

Then, with the same dry tone he had used before, he said, "How heroic of you."

The words might have sounded mocking coming from someone else. From Mikoto, they were difficult to read.

His red eyes remained on her, his expression giving almost nothing away.

Gretel watched him closely; she waited. For surprise, regret, or some indication that he understood what had happened.

But she found none.

("He doesn’t seem the least bit shaken.")

The thought came to Gretel as she continued watching him.

Mikoto did not look defensive, and he did not look confused about what she was asking, nor did he appear particularly interested in avoiding the subject.

He simply stood there, looking calm.

Gretel had expected something.

She wasn’t entirely sure what that something was. Perhaps discomfort or perhaps irritation at being questioned.

Anything that would have told her that he understood the scale of what had happened.

Instead, there was nothing she could immediately read.

Her fingers shifted slightly against the fabric of her clothing as she gathered herself. She had already been hesitant to ask him. Now that the moment had actually arrived, she found herself wishing she had waited a little longer.

"Mikoto..." Gretel began, her voice quieter as she looked directly at him. "Those two large explosions earlier... that was you, wasn’t it? I need you to be honest with me."

The question left her mouth, but she did not feel any relief afterward. If anything, the opposite, she had asked because she needed to know. But knowing the answer was another matter entirely. She wasn’t sure she would have liked it.

Mikoto did not make her wait.

"That’s right." The answer came easily as he simply acknowledged it, as though she had asked him whether he had eaten earlier.

Gretel’s stomach tightened.

("Does he not think his explosions are the cause for the estate’s destruction?") She tried to rationalize it; maybe he hadn’t understood what had happened afterward.

Maybe he hadn’t realized how much damage the explosions had caused, or maybe he had simply been too far away to see the consequences. There had to be some explanation for the way he was acting.

Gretel clung to that possibility for a moment before looking at him again.

"Mikoto, those explosions caused the estate’s destruction." She made sure to say it plainly. "The estate was destroyed because of them. People were caught in it. There were people injured, and people died. I’m telling you because I don’t know if you actually understood what happened after you used that much power."

Mikoto listened, his expression remaining largely unchanged.

"Yeah, I might have guessed." His tone was unworried.

Gretel stared at him, her brows gradually furrowed. She had been trying to give him the benefit of the doubt; she really had. But the complete lack of concern in his voice made that increasingly difficult.

The destruction of the estate was not some inconvenience. She had been there and she had seen the aftermath with her own eyes. She had seen the injured nobles being carried out, the destroyed structure, the damage surrounding them, and the people who had not survived.

He noticed her expression almost immediately.

Mikoto’s eyes settled more directly on her.

"Confused about why I’m not lamenting it or anything?" The dry question cut through the silence.

Gretel hesitated; she had been trying to figure out how to phrase what was bothering her without turning the conversation into an accusation. But there was little point pretending she wasn’t disturbed.

"You’ve never..." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "You’ve never struck me as the type who’s heartless or careless, for that matter."

Her eyes remained on him.

"I mean, you were so great with the kids. They really liked you. You weren’t pretending with them, either. At least... I never thought you were."

Her voice became quieter as she continued.

"That’s why I don’t understand this. I’ve seen how you act around people. You’re not someone I’ve ever thought of as cruel for the sake of being cruel, and you’re not someone I’ve thought would simply stop caring because something went wrong." She frowned slightly. "So seeing you stand there and act like it doesn’t bother you... I don’t know what I’m supposed to make of that."

Mikoto stared at her; his gaze was impassive.