My Status as an Assassin Obviously Exceeds the Hero's

This time it's a bit shorter!

We returned to the ship without incident. After confirming that the people we’d brought on board with Morte were probably sleeping peacefully thanks to Amelia’s "forced sleep," we decided to explain about Ringa and the others tomorrow and, one by one, dragged our heavy feet to the rooms we’d been assigned. Since this world has magic, at least we probably didn’t need to worry about sleep disorders caused by psychological stress. Conversely, there were probably illnesses unique to a world with magic. I think Reytis Castle’s library had a few books on the subject… No, my head won’t work.

I was mentally exhausted rather than physically. I collapsed onto the bed in a daze.

Just as I thought I could fall asleep simply by closing my eyes, consciousness was dragged away and faded.

When I came to, I was standing in a pure white space. At my waist was the weight of the "night blade god" that I should have set on the shelf beside the bed before getting in. Even though I felt this was a dream, my thoughts were clear as if I were awake.

When Amelia forced me to sleep before, the scene had been like sinking under the sea, but this time I was in a white expanse that seemed to go on forever. I couldn’t tell whether my danger sense was working in the dream, but I somehow felt the space was safe, not dangerous.

As I strained to see how far the space extended, a small blue flame flew toward me from somewhere. It was a flame, but I felt no heat.

"Will-o'-the-wisp?"

It didn’t look remotely human, yet for some reason it carried a familiar, nostalgic presence and I tilted my head.

The will-o'-the-wisp fluttered around me, and the moment it touched my forehead, it took the form of an old man.

"You are…"

The last time I saw him he had been gaunt, with the hollow eyes of someone near death, but the old man standing before me now had warm, full cheeks and obsidian-like eyes full of strong will that looked straight at me. He was the first old man I killed with Morte: Kagami Kaminari.

"Couldn't return?"

When I asked, Kagami slowly shook his head and smiled. Lines formed around his eyes, giving him a kindly expression.

Kagami turned his gaze behind me.

"Father."

When I turned at the cool voice, a woman clad in a jūnihitoe of vivid colors like something out of a textbook stood there. She looked about the same age as my mother, perhaps. Her jet-black hair had a hint of golden ornament gently swaying. Kagami moved slowly and passed through me, approaching the woman. He took the hand she offered with visible delight.

"Welcome home."

At that moment, the white space blossomed into color.

Stone paving appeared beneath my feet, and cherry trees in full bloom lined both sides of the path, petals stirring in the wind. Under a cloudless blue sky, a white torii and a shrine stood behind the smiling woman. Behind me, countless steps descended to a lake that glittered in the sunlight. It was an extraordinarily beautiful scene.

Although I had no memory of this place, I inexplicably felt that I had "returned." Even if memory had been lost, even if the body had been so badly hurt, this was where Kagami had wanted to return. A place he had promised he would come back to. Having finally shed the shackles of the body, he had reached it at last.

"Sorry I'm late… I'm home."

Kagami said this and broke into a grin. The low, aged voice I heard for the first time resonated, and my consciousness was pulled back up as if being lifted from water.

"So you were able to return."

Sunlight came through the window and lit my face on the bed.

The headache that had made me wince the night before had vanished, and I wiped the tears flowing down to my temples with my fist.

"Akira, you awake? Can I come in?"

"Yeah, come in."

Amelia opened the door and stepped in. She looked at my propped-up face on the bed and widened her eyes.

"Akira, you're crying."

"Yeah."

I couldn't control it; the tears kept coming no matter how I wiped them.

Amelia gently stopped my rough hand and sat beside me, her fingers tracing softly beneath my eyes.