By Zephyria 
“It’s not good that your Father, who is neutral, is associating too often with Count Fontain, who is a noble. Keep a proper distance.”
“Arthur hasn’t completely turned to the noble faction.”
Marchioness Evans’ face clouded with disappointment that her daughter, who had never argued no matter what she said, gave such an answer as her first response.
Marchioness Evans’ expression immediately turned cold.
“Are you really my smart daughter? Even if he is the Hero, if he has joined hands with Marquis Rodrigo, he is a noble. Where are you denying reality?”
“…”
“His Majesty the Emperor is openly wielding his sword, and you’re saying the Hero is a fool who puts his neck on the line.”
And the Hero’s closest companion is my daughter!
Boram sighed softly at her clicking her tongue.
Arthur was now completely a noble among nobles in the eyes of the world. He was meeting with Marquis Rodrigo alone more and more often, and he had been introduced to quite a few nobles of the noble faction.
On his days off, he enjoyed riding and hunting with them, solidifying his friendship, and he reacted sensitively and angrily even if someone just tried to bring up the story of the Holy Sword.
No matter how much Boram tried to stop him, Arthur didn’t even pretend to listen.
He hadn’t really listened to Boram’s advice very carefully before, but Arthur had been even worse lately.
Like that day when he suddenly said he was going to see Ketron, he was somehow more impulsive than before, unable to hold back his anger, and his thoughts were becoming simpler and simpler.
Recently, Saint Laila came to see the Holy Sword and said something suspicious, and rumors had spread that he had openly gotten angry at her and told her to leave. Now, even rumors of a broken engagement between the two were circulating in the Imperial Palace.
At that point, it was certain. The Holy Sword, the fake Holy Sword, was having a huge impact on Arthur.
And a very negative impact at that.
Knowing that all too well, knowing that something was seriously wrong, there was little Boram could do.
Like that day. Like that day when Arthur decided to steal the Hero’s name, she could only help Arthur achieve what he wanted, or stand by and watch.
Because if even she left, there would be no one left by Arthur’s side. By the side of that foolish man.
“Anyway, keep a proper distance from the Hero.”
To someone who couldn’t do that, her Mother came to tell her to distance herself from Arthur again today. Boram remained silent without answering.
“I still don’t understand how that idiot defeated the Demon King.”
Marchioness Evans clicked her tongue. She believed that to reach the pinnacle of swordsmanship or Sorcery, one had to be smarter than anyone else. In her eyes, the fact that Arthur had defeated the Demon King seemed unbelievable.
The truly strong know. That Arthur’s clumsy imitation of the Hero is fake.
So, it was Boram who told him to prioritize his image as a noble of the Empire over his image as the Hero and to jump into the politics of the Empire, but that wasn’t what she had hoped for.
“It’s stubborn and arrogant to think that you can change a man. It’s not too late, so distance yourself from that man and meet someone else who will love you.”
She looked at Boram with a worried expression and sighed.
“Boram, you know what Mother always says.”
After a moment of silence, Boram replied.
“…Sorcery is not perfect.”
“Even powerful Sorcery that seems to make anything possible can’t create love or change a person’s nature.”
“I know.”
Knowing that, why. She barely managed to hold back another lecture and instead asked something else important.
“Are you gathering mana well?”
Boram nodded. The children of the Marquis Evans family, who mainly learned destructive Sorcery specialized in combat, were all famous for constantly accumulating mana in their bodies and then releasing it powerfully at once to use even more powerful Sorcery.
“…Don’t make foolish choices. Make wise choices.”
With those words, Marchioness Evans left.
“Haa.”
Boram, looking gloomy, lay down on the bed as soon as Marchioness Evans left. Her head hurt.
She had already made the worst choice, and she wasn’t going to be wise in the future either.
Everything was wrong. Ever since that day she betrayed Ketron, the carriage had completely gone down the wrong path, not knowing it was a downhill road, not knowing it was the wrong road, and continuing to run.
And knowing full well what the carriage would look like when it faced a dead end, Boram buried her face in the pillow, feeling an ominous premonition that she couldn’t get off the carriage.
No, it wasn’t a premonition. The carriage had already reached its limit.
And not long after that, as if that ominous premonition was not a delusion, she heard the worst news.
***
Arthur had recently become aware that he was often swept away by certain impulses.
It was sometimes severely depressing, destructive, and at the same time, very impulsive.
Knowing that it was never a good influence on him, and knowing that the cause was to some extent the Holy Sword, Arthur could not easily let go of the Holy Sword.
He knew it too. That the Holy Sword was not real.
It couldn’t be real. He was able to make a reasonably objective assessment of himself, and that assessment did not include the pride that he was a decent human being or a strong human being enough to dare to hold the Holy Sword.
So, this sword that had allowed itself to Arthur could never be the Holy Sword.
It wasn’t even an ego sword that had a self and could talk to its owner like a real Holy Sword.
So, this was definitely fake.
Reason whispered to Arthur several times in that way that he should put down this sword, but instead, Arthur gave in to his impulses.
Everyone has something they can’t give up, and for Arthur, it was the Holy Sword.
The sword he had always envied. The existence he had always wanted. The archaic sword that looked exactly like that noble and beautiful sword that Arthur didn’t even dare to touch captivated Arthur. He couldn’t resist falling for it.
Just a little more, just a little more.
He didn’t even have anything to say if someone asked how much? But every time, just a little more, just a little more… At some point.
Finally, without him even knowing it, on a certain day when the carriage that had arrived right in front of a dead end couldn’t slow down.
It happened.
“Kyaaaa!”
Arthur felt his mind snap back at the sound of people screaming.
A fishy smell wafted to his nose. What is this smell? What was I doing?
He was already standing up. He clearly remembered sitting across from Marquis Rodrigo at a table, drinking tea and having light small talk about how he was doing these days…
Marquis Rodrigo’s aide was standing next to him, there were many servants and maids, and next to him, his proud Holy Sword was standing there, exuding an archaic aura as always.
That was it. Arthur’s memory stopped there.
As if he had fallen asleep at that moment, the teacup he was holding in his hand became blurry, and at some point, he was standing up.
Holding the Holy Sword that he loved so much instead of the teacup he had been holding.
A bright red color entered Arthur’s vision as he blankly looked around. A man wearing fancy clothes was collapsed in front of Arthur, covered in something bright red.
It was a familiar face that he had seen often recently.
The man lying on the floor with his eyes wide open was clearly not alive. Blood was still pouring out of the deep scar across his chest.
That man is dead.
“This… shit.”
The moment he realized who it was, Arthur involuntarily dropped the Holy Sword he was holding in his hand.
The heavy sword fell to the floor with a clatter, and the bright red blood on the sword splattered everywhere. The pure white tablecloth nearby was instantly stained crimson.
Only then did Arthur see the appearance of the sword. The sword, with bright red blood on its blade, did not look as brilliant as it had been.
It’s just fake. Fake Holy Sword was stained with blood.
And not just anyone’s blood, but Marquis Rodrigo’s blood.
“Marquis Rodrigo has been murdered!”
Someone shouted that and ran out of the room.
“The Hero killed Marquis Rodrigo!”
The maids and other servants who had been screaming also screamed and ran out of the room in an instant, as if they were afraid of getting entangled.
The only one left was the aide who always stood by Marquis Rodrigo’s side.
The man with a pale impression reminiscent of a snake remained alone, staring blankly at Marquis Rodrigo, who had fallen to the floor, or rather, the man who had now become a dead lump of meat, before shifting his gaze to Arthur.
Even though the noble he had always faithfully served had been murdered before his eyes, the man’s face did not change much.
Looking at the foolish Hero shaking his head as if denying reality with a bloodless, pale face, he slowly raised the corners of his lips.
That smile was just like a snake.