Chapter 8: It’s Already Too Late
A full day had passed since the fire at “Dragon’s Wing.”
All the party members except for Chronos were detained, and from what I heard, the trial would begin once the facts were sorted out.
Chronos himself was still on the run. Whether he’d be caught was just a matter of time, but either way, he was effectively exiled from Villeborn.
The scandal spread within a day, growing more exaggerated by the minute. Yet, some facts seemed to have been shared, allowing those with discernment to form a general picture.
Rumor had it that “Dragon’s Wing” had failed to achieve anything since Vimm-Strauss left, and they had resorted to using the Forbidden Dark Map. The claim was that the defeat of the 97th Floor Boss was mostly Vimm-Strauss’s doing, and the others had taken credit as a form of leniency.
This story was largely accurate.
People speculated that I was the one who exposed the Forbidden Dark Map, given that I was present during the fire. They thought I did it to take responsibility for letting “Dragon’s Wing” roam free. This, too, was partly true.
Overall, there were no rumors blaming me.
Maybe it was expected, but it felt so detached from my own experience that I couldn’t help but laugh at the surreal disconnect.
Public opinion was painting me as the true hero who defeated the 97th Floor Boss, using me as a tool to bash the now-despised “Dragon’s Wing.”
Additionally, Laura’s story had been leaked. The fragments pieced together turned into a neat little tale, making me out to be a hero who saved a girl from a crisis and proposed a new medical technique to overcome her aftereffects.
People kept coming and going in front of my newly moved-in house.
Even with a blanket over my head on the bed, I could feel their presence. I could hear their voices.
The most prominent were the reporters. There were also some activist-looking types. When I heard someone call for the end of discrimination against non-humans, I couldn’t help but laugh.
Other visitors seemed to genuinely admire me. The mailbox was stuffed with letters, so much so that I had no desire to collect them.
I wished from the bottom of my heart that they would stop.
I had always wanted someone to praise and recognize me.
I wanted to be part of a circle, and it made me happy to think someone was talking about me.
I still felt that way. I could understand and empathize with it.
But this wasn’t right.
“… It’s annoying.”
I no longer swallowed my words.
The hesitation was gone.
This isn’t right. I’m not that kind of person. I’m not worth it.
My thoughts were spinning, yet strangely, I wasn’t confused at all.
My feelings were sorted out. I knew what happened, what people thought, and how I felt about it. I knew what I should do next.
The answer was simple. Stay with “Night Dragonflies” and find the right distance.
Balance my feelings with reality. Do what I can personally about Chronos. What’s done is done. What’s important is the future and responding to those who need me within my means.
But every time I thought that, I heard it.
The labyrinth’s call.
On the third day of the festival, “Night Dragonflies” would make its debut, walking through the city in their labyrinth gear.
We’d walk slowly from the mansion to the outskirts, responding to cheers, signing autographs, sometimes handing out old gear, and interacting with the townspeople.
Naturally, I’d be seeing everyone from “Night Dragonflies” for the first time in a while.
Having left with only minimal interactions, it felt awkward.
Sneaking into the mansion and reaching the great hall, I found everyone bustling around, preparing their gear as if we were about to dive into the labyrinth.
The atmosphere was relaxed. Since we weren’t risking our lives, any gear malfunctions wouldn’t lead to disaster.
Some members were overly concerned with their hairstyles or seemed unusually nervous, which was understandable.
“Um… hey there.”
Trying to act natural, I greeted them in a token manner and quietly joined the group.
Good, I was always a shadow.
Maybe I could blend into the procession unnoticed… or maybe not.
“Hey, Vim! Long time no see!”
Sure enough, I was spotted.
Hearing the lively voice, I instinctively straightened up. I felt I had to respond.
“Oh, good morning!”
This person was, um… Mark. It had been a while, so I couldn’t recall the name immediately.
“Man, you’ve had it rough.”
With him talking to me, I felt everyone’s eyes on me.
“Well, I’ve heard a lot, but–“
I understood.
This was part of the plan.
The cheerful, uninhibited person talks first to the one who had been absent, addressing the core issue. This way, the difficult topic is broached first, making subsequent interactions smoother. Whether planned or naturally occurring, this seemed to be the case.
“–it’s been tough! We won’t pry, but talk to us when you’re ready!”
Mark’s words were met with nods all around.
“Uh, um…”
It was goodwill.
Pure goodwill.
Everyone was welcoming me back with open arms.
“Thank you.”
The words came out on their own.
Everyone smiled in response.
It felt a bit unsettling. Including my own response.
What good would it do to talk about it?
I could predict the typical advice. Essentially, they’d say to keep my feet on the ground. I’d dismiss it inwardly, thinking I already knew that.
Was I always this cynical?
Why was I thinking like this?
I liked and respected everyone in “Night Dragonflies.” I had fond memories, even if I felt a bit out of place. There were still good times…
…Were there really that many?
Did I go to gatherings? I did.
But what did we talk about? I couldn’t remember. I couldn’t recall who I talked to, where, or about what.
So, what did that mean?
Had I been engaging in such superficial interactions that I couldn’t remember anything?
“
“
“Yes, yes,” I answered internally.
It wasn’t unpleasant anymore. It was almost comforting.
“Well, I’m glad you’re okay! After all, you’re our–“
Mark didn’t know I was thinking this. He couldn’t have known.
No, no, no, I mean…
“–hero, Vim-Strauss!”
…What?
“Keep up the good work!”
No one reacted unusually.
At some point, I had acquired an impressive nickname.
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The procession, as expected, was not easy.
The weather was annoyingly perfect.
Leaving the mansion, a crowd awaited us at the gate. Reporters who had been camped outside my house were there too. They probably thought they could get a story since I was sure to come out.
After a few drumbeats, the lively sound of brass instruments filled the air.
“Everyone! Follow me!”
At Camilla’s command, we started marching.
I was in the front row, next to her.
“Vim, please try to be as pleasant as possible. We owe everything to the townspeople.”
“Of course.”
Barely having steeled myself, I was swarmed as soon as we exited the gate.
People talked to me all at once, making it impossible to understand any single voice.
Ignoring the guards trying to manage the crowd, I waved, shook hands, and smiled.
For some reason, people thanked and praised me. I heard words of support, and if I wasn’t mistaken, someone even asked me to marry them.
It doesn’t feel bad.
Or does it really not? I feel like it does.
There are both sides to it. I understand it too. But if you ask if it suits me or not, it definitely doesn’t.
“Now here we have, as everyone knows, the ‘Hero’ who defeated two Labyrinth Boss, Vim Strauss!”
A loud announcement rang out, and the crowd cheered.
I raised my right hand in response.
Are those envious gazes? It felt like thousands of them were piercing me.
I said something nice. I smiled when someone said something pleasant. I took photos with various people when asked. It was fun, and I felt recognized.
—But these are the people who burned down the party house.
Still, I couldn’t help but think that way.
I’m not saying they have two faces. It’s probably just different people doing different things. Even though I understand that, the people of Villeborn seemed rather opportunistic.
I wanted to go home.
But then I wondered if there was even a place I could call home.
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Maybe Vim is trying to keep himself busy by helping others, like Dragon’s Wings, Camilla, Night Dragonflies and Laura, so he wouldn’t have the time to think about his problems? There are people who behave that way in RL. Well, at least based on Vim’s condition, excepting that he is a weirdo, but doesn’t need to change, if he wants to stay the same, is a solution.