The splendid dinner had ended.
Objectively speaking, calling it “splendid” might have been a stretch.
Among all the receptions Ludger had experienced, there were countless grander and more luxurious than this.
But even so, this was a feast.
The taste and quantity of the food were excellent.
The people he shared the table with were just as wonderful.
Above all, what satisfied Ludger the most was the richness of heart.
Once the sad stories were set aside, the conversations that followed were light and ordinary—
simple talk one might hear in any everyday life.
But within that simplicity was happiness.
Warm laughter, warm hearts—all shared together.
This dinner was special to Ludger because the warmth it held surpassed any feast he had ever attended.
After lunch ended, Ludger stepped out of the estate and wandered through the village.
The village where the Unsho family lived was a quiet countryside town.
It was large enough to hesitate calling it “rural,” yet far too modest to be called a “city.”
Since farming was their livelihood, calling it the countryside was only natural.
Located in the northern inland region of the continent, the climate here was naturally cool.
That explained why potatoes were their main crop and staple food.
The temperature needed to hover around twenty degrees for over half the year—and this place fit that perfectly.
Despite the cool weather, the sunlight was warm.
Ludger looked up at the sky. Through the leaves overhead, the brilliant sun peeked through.
The sun always appeared at the same time, in the same place.
There had been sunlight like this in the past, and there would surely be sunlight in the future.
But the sunlight he felt right now—this very moment—could only be felt now.
How peaceful. Almost painfully peaceful.
As he muttered inwardly, he realized what he had just thought and laughed at himself.
That sounded like something only a peace-weary thrill-seeker would say.
And he, of all people—the man who wanted peace more desperately than anyone—had no right to think that.
He had been running relentlessly all this time.
Even though there had been a three-year gap, he couldn’t consider that “rest.”
In truth, Ludger had only begun to relax after returning to this world.
And even that period wasn’t very long.
Maybe that was why... none of this felt real to him.
He had run for so long that even standing still now felt unnatural.
A sense of compulsion—no, anxiety—crept in.
He felt as if he had to do something immediately.
Perhaps this all felt like a midsummer night’s dream, too fragile, too uncertain.
Maybe that was why he was uneasy.
...I see. I really have become weak.
Was it because he spent three years alone in an empty void?
Or because he had lived under constant extremity until now?
Just as overheated metal cracks when cooled too quickly, his heart was suffering a similar fracture.
His legs felt light, his mind drifting elsewhere.
The world spun dizzyingly; even light warped at the edges of his vision.
His body grew heavy, his breath tight—like sinking into the deep sea.
Ludger closed his eyes and took a slow breath.
A panic attack.
Not yet... I’m still okay.
The fact that he could recognize what was happening meant it wasn’t severe—yet.
But once such a crack appeared in the heart, no one could predict how it might widen later.
No matter how many times he told himself he was fine, the panic didn’t ease.
He had survived tragedy without flinching—yet happiness brought him panic.
How ironic.
Or perhaps this was the perfect environment for anxiety—because now, he finally had something to lose.
Ssshh. Hoo...
He steadied his breath.
His heart raced wildly.
His body had not trembled even before the voices of gods, yet now it escaped his control.
The sensation was deeply unpleasant—honestly, terrifying.
“Are you okay?”
Then, a warm touch landed on his shoulder.
The fear tormenting Ludger vanished like a mirage.
His vision returned.
His breathing calmed.
He slowly turned his head.
Catherine stood there, looking at him with worry.
“What’s wrong? You suddenly stopped walking, and you didn’t respond even when I called you.”
“Ah... did I?”
“You don’t look fine. You’re drenched in cold sweat.”
Ludger belatedly realized sweat was trickling down his forehead.
“Hold still.”
Catherine pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and gently wiped his sweat.
“I can do that myself.”
“Right. And you would totally admit your state honestly, huh? Don’t hide it. You’re not fine.”
“It’s not that—”
“Will you admit it voluntarily, or should I make you?”
Apparently, denying wasn’t an option.
When Ludger remained silent, Catherine nodded, satisfied.
“See? That’s better.”
Swipe. Swipe.
Only the soft sound of the handkerchief brushing his skin filled the quiet.
Ludger closed his eyes, listening to that faint sound and feeling the warmth through the fabric.
Each time that warmth touched him, the cold, blue-tinged panic in his heart softened into something bright.
“All done.”
“I’ll wash the handkerchief and return it.”
“It’s fine. It’s nothing important.”
Catherine slipped the handkerchief into her pocket, resting both hands on her hips.
“More importantly—that was a panic attack, wasn’t it?”
“......”
“Don’t bother hiding it. I know what it looks like. I used to be a Saint, remember?”
“Do Saints see a lot of that?”
“It’s not because I was a Saint. You know... my younger sisters.”
By “younger sisters,” she meant her fellow priestess candidates—her foster sisters, once trainee priestesses.
“They lived in fear every day when they were young. And who could blame them?
Any day, they could be disposed of like trash. How could they live normally? They were barely in their early teens.”
There was nothing more terrifying to a young girl than knowing her life might be thrown away.
Even a meaningful death requires resolve—yet those children were told to accept slaughter.
To them, it was more than a nightmare—it was trauma that would last a lifetime.
“They couldn’t sleep properly. Couldn’t eat properly.
I had to take care of them. They were just like me, after all.”
Catherine spoke bitterly.
“If I hadn’t had talent, I would’ve ended up just like them.
Maybe I would’ve died even before awakening—like ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ all those children who died before us.”
Yes. Her younger sisters were survivors—barely clinging to life through experiments.
Every other child had died, unable to endure the Saint’s power.
“So I had to take care of them. If not me, then who? As a person, I had to.
And you know what? Seeing you now... you look exactly like those girls did.”
“How did you comfort them?”
“If you ask for a method... there really wasn’t one.
I just stayed by their side.”
When they panicked, she embraced them.
When they couldn’t sleep, she held their hands.
Her younger sisters couldn’t function unless Catherine was nearby.
She spent days and nights taking care of them.
It had been exhausting—physically and mentally.
But Catherine endured it, because someone had to.
“So, are they okay now?”
“You’ve seen them. They’re much better. Not perfect—never will be.
A wound of the heart heals, but it always leaves a scar.”
“I see.”
“But I didn’t expect you to have something like this.”
“It’s not that serious.”
“There’s no such thing as ‘not serious’ with this stuff.
Good thing we noticed early—what would’ve happened otherwise?”
“I’m—”
“Say ‘I’m fine’ and I’ll punch you.”
“......”
Ludger couldn’t help but laugh quietly.
“Is that funny?”
“Your habit of threatening everything with violence is... not very Saint-like.”
“Good. That means you’re relaxed enough to joke.”
“Was that a joke?”
“No. I was serious.”
“...Terrifying.”
With Catherine, he couldn’t rule anything out.
Ludger promised himself to choose his words more carefully.
“So then... how do I deal with this?”
“You need someone beside you—but that’s useless for someone who always wanders alone like you.”
“You know me too well.”
“Even if I said I’d follow you, you’d refuse immediately.”
“...You really do know me.”
“Of course. Look at how you’ve lived.
You always sacrifice yourself.
Your body is covered in scars, so you think it’s fine if you get hurt again.”
She had realized that when he handed her the slip of paper with her parents’ address.
This fool, in a situation where he could die any moment...
had tried to help an old friend find her lost family.
“You know something? You’re honestly stupid. Ridiculously stupid.”
“I’d prefer to deny it, but... I’ll accept that much.”
“I want to swear at you so badly right now, but I’m holding it in.”
“...Please continue holding it in. So—is there a solution?”
“You have to identify your source of anxiety.
You have to consciously recognize that it isn’t as terrifying as it feels.”
“The source of my anxiety...”
Her words were vague yet strangely precise.
“Panic is fear.
It’s the fear of something crashing down on you without warning—freezing your body and mind.
So what are you afraid of?”
“My... fear...”
Ludger tried to recall what had triggered his panic.
Just thinking about it made cold sweat threaten to break out again.
If Catherine hadn’t touched her finger to his forehead, it would have.
“Focus.”
“Slowly recall it. Don’t worry. Everything’s okay.”
Her voice was soft—gentle as a spring breeze.
Warm sunlight.
Leaves rustling in the wind.
The small warmth resting on his forehead.
“......”
Ludger closed his eyes and spoke quietly.
“I... don’t know if standing here like this is real.
And if it is real... I don’t know how long this happiness will last.
I don’t know if I deserve to enjoy peace like this.”
He hesitated, then spoke the truth he had hidden deepest:
“My biggest fear is... that I’ll suddenly disappear from this world.”
His precious companions had been devastated when he vanished.
Even now that he had returned, they worried he might disappear again.
He told them he was fine—but that was a lie.
No one feared it more than Ludger himself.
“So many things happened. Too many.
More than any one person should ever have to endure.
But while living through them, I didn’t realize how painful it was.
I just... kept going. Because I had to survive. Because I had to reach my goal.”
He looked down at his own palm.
“I never thought about what came after.
That felt like a luxury.
I believed I had to squeeze out every last drop of my soul every single day just to reach it.”
His heart lived in the future, but his eyes stayed fixed on the present.
If he didn’t survive today, tomorrow wouldn’t come.
Dreaming of the future was nothing more than fuel to keep his heart’s fire alive—
not a promise.
Still, sometimes, he dreamed.
Dreamed of what it might look like if he succeeded.
“Thought things would get easier once I achieved everything.”
At the time, he didn’t believe he would truly succeed.
He only meant to try his best.
His imagined future had always been vague, flimsy, and unreal—because it was only a wish.
Only a dream.
“That was an illusion.
When I finally achieved everything... I realized how much of myself I’d consumed to reach it.”
The pain of every wound carved into his body surged all at once.
It wasn’t that he didn’t feel pain—he had simply postponed it.
And the debt of that postponement had returned.
The more he relaxed, the worse the pain grew.
And with it, the fear.
He was too worn down to start anything new—
and he had only just realized that.
“Then the solution is simple.”
Catherine’s voice carried no pity, no sympathy, no attempt at consolation.
Just a matter-of-fact suggestion, as though the answer were obvious.
“Find proof that you’re alive right now.”
“Me?”
“Look down.”
He did—and saw a shadow.
“What do you see?”
“The ground... and my shadow.”
“That’s proof you’re alive in this moment.”
But it wasn’t only the shadow.
“The warmth of my hand.
My voice.
The sunlight.
The scent of grass.
Everything your senses feel is telling you—you’re alive.”
Not a hallucination.
Not a delusion.
The proof that he existed, here and now.
“Whenever it gets hard, remember that.
You’re alive.
And because you're alive, there’s one thing you absolutely must do.”
“What is that?”
Catherine smiled—clear, bright, warm.
“Live.”