31: Madness in the Barn
“…………”
“What’s wrong, Bridget?”
My physical wounds had been completely healed with healing magic. My strength had returned, and I felt much better, but now, she looked troubled.
“…Well, you see… um…”
She had a troubled expression on her face, one I hadn’t seen since I’d told her I’d “forgotten” my name. After a moment, she spoke, her voice tinged with sadness.
“…There are those who speak ill of you. Simply because you’re human.”
“I see.” I nodded slightly.
“Aren’t you angry?”
“…No. It just makes me realize… how well I’ve been treated.”
That was true.
I was human.
Bridget was a demon, a dark elf.
In other words, we were enemies.
Even if Bridget and I didn’t see each other that way. There were those who would consider me an enemy simply for being human.
I’d been treated well, but giving a stranger a private room and having the knight commander visit frequently would understandably cause resentment.
I nodded and explained this to her.
Her expression darkened considerably.
“What… is that?” she muttered, her voice laced with disgust.
“That’s just how it is.”
Sadly.
But if I was right. And if my impressions of Bridget and Alex, the medic, were accurate. Then the demons—at least the dark elves—weren’t so different from humans in their way of thinking. There were no differences beyond cultural ones.
“What will you do, Bridget?”
“Nothing… or rather, I’ll explain.”
“No, you can’t.” I shook my head.
“The ones you need to prioritize aren’t me. It’s your comrades… your subordinates.”
“Then… what do you suggest?”
She was a dark elf, a knight commander.
I was a human… with no standing.
“I consider you a friend, Bridget… and that will never change.”
“…I see. I feel the same.”
Her slightly hesitant, shy smile warmed my heart. But this was just a preface.
“But we need to make our relationship clear. At least, make it appear clear to your subordinates.”
“What… are you saying?”
“—I’m a ‘human prisoner.’ Nothing more, nothing less. A valuable specimen, given a private room to prevent my death from weakness. Your visits were for interrogation purposes.”
“I would never!”
Bridget kicked her chair back and stood up. I waited for the sound of the fallen wooden chair to fade.
“…I know. Thank you.” I smiled at her.
“But it’s better this way. We should move me to a less comfortable room… and maybe downgrade the food as well.”
While I’d prefer a comfortable room and good food, Bridget’s position was more important.
“Treat me… like a prisoner.”
“…We’ve never really taken prisoners. We just killed each other…”
Bridget spoke in a flat, almost detached tone. What a horrible world. Not even prisoners.
I’d anticipated this, but hearing it said so plainly was still jarring.
“What you’re saying… is probably right. But I… I don’t want to treat a friend that way.”
“…Thank you.”
My throat tightened with emotion.
I looked down, tempted to accept her kindness.
“But… I feel the same. I don’t want my friend to be judged poorly because of me.”
I had nothing. So, this was all I could do for her.
She, who had shown kindness to a mere human like me, deserved better than the disapproval of her comrades. It wasn’t right.
“I’ll be fine.”
I looked up and forced a smile. I wasn’t sure if it reached my eyes.
“…Very well. We’ll do as you say. I am the commander of the dark knights.”
Bridget spoke as if to convince herself.
“I won’t treat you too badly… but I apologize.”
“Don’t apologize, Bridget. …It’s okay.” I smiled again.
I was back in the barn. But it wasn’t the same as when I’d first arrived, with only straw bedding. While the room was considerably less comfortable than the private room, I still had clean sheets, a pillow, and a blanket. I couldn’t ask for more.
The food was also a downgrade, but thankfully, there was the justification of maintaining the prisoner’s strength. It was far better than the bland vegetable soup the other humans had been given, which barely qualified as food.
But the hardest part was… seeing Bridget less often.
The moments she’d found time to visit, bringing me food, eating with me… those were almost gone.
This is surprisingly lonely.
I closed my eyes, suppressing the sudden pang of sadness and the tears welling up. That time… was more precious to me than I realized.
And yet.
And yet, what I’d told her was right.
So, the fact that I was alone now…
…was probably right, too. It had to be right.
I lay down on the straw bed, my weight sinking into the soft bedding. I buried my face in the pillow.
Think.
My conversations with Bridget had given me a better understanding of the situation.
That the demons were likely to lose if things continued as they were. Because wasn’t that obvious?
Humans had already discarded their ethical restraints. They’d crossed the line. And I, as a human, knew just how cruel—or rather, how efficient—humans could be without those ethical constraints. That was what modern Japanese education had taught me.
Human history, as recounted dispassionately in textbooks, was a history of war. A history of slaughter, of humans killing each other over territory, over insignificant differences.
I… I, who was supposed to be human, couldn’t understand how humans could do such things to each other. But that was what humans did. And now, I, who was beginning to understand that, was here.
The nation Bridget wished to protect would be destroyed, and the race that had tried to use me up would prevail.
—And I couldn’t accept that, even if they were ‘human’ like me.
I felt a chill and sat up, pulling the blanket over my head. The excess fabric draped around me like a hood. I wrapped the blanket tightly around myself, shivering.
This was a gift from Bridget. An act of kindness. And I, as a human, had to reciprocate.
The Lord of Disease was probably born in that dim, musty barn.
I’d learned a lot since coming to this world.
About the darkness within me. A chillingly black feeling I hadn’t known existed.
—And something warm enough to unleash that darkness.
As I made up my mind, tears streamed down my face. My conscience seemed to be condemning me. I laughed, tears streaming down my face, hidden beneath the blanket.
I knew now.
The ruthlessness, the despair, the hell on the ramparts… none of it was as terrifying as this. It would have been easier to accept that humans were simply like that, to laugh and despair and die in the liberating knowledge that I’d lost everything.
But I had learned of something kind, something warm.
From the hands of someone who wasn’t human.
Even though I was.
…If ethics didn’t exist in this world. If they waged war without even the concept of prisoners of war.
Then there was a way.
I just had to do what was rational, what was right. Even if it was ethically reprehensible.
There was nothing in this world to condemn me.
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