When I was a child, there was a public execution held in the territory where I lived.

It wasn’t the kind of shocking event you would normally have for just any death-row criminal, but this particular prisoner was… special.

A heinous criminal who had committed dozens of serial murders over the past seven years in the territory.

His motive? Something incomprehensible, apparently a twisted personal hobby.

Everyone who had ever crossed paths with him wanted to see his death with their own eyes.

Considering the public sentiment, the lord gave the special order to set up a public execution ground.

He even announced that anyone who wanted to could come and watch the man die.

“Mide, it’s time to go.”

My mother didn’t want to be a spectator to such a brutal spectacle, but in the current mood of the territory, saying “I don’t want to see it” was practically asking to be stoned to death.

Even I, just seven years old, was no exception.

After all, someone from our village had been one of his victims.

“Stay behind me and cover your eyes.”

“Okay, Mom.”

And so, reluctantly, we made our way to the execution grounds.

The crowd was overwhelming, as if the entire territory had gathered in one place.

Looking over the event himself, the lord stood while the executioner slowly read out the criminal’s list of crimes.

“This man arrived in our territory seven years ago from elsewhere and took a job at the butcher’s. According to his own words, he ‘slaughtered’ six people there. The victims are as follows.”

He began reading the names of the victims.

Screams, curses, and sobs erupted from the crowd likely friends and family of those listed.

“Then, at his next job at the lumber mill…”

But I couldn’t concentrate on the executioner’s voice any longer.

Huh? What’s that?

Faint.

There were words, writing to be exact, above the prisoner’s head, whose face was wrapped in a sack and twitching.

It wasn’t handwritten.

The letters looked as if they were smeared in blood across an invisible surface, slowly dripping down.

It was the first time I had seen something so bizarre. I clung tightly to my mother’s hand.

“Mide. It’s okay. I’m right here.”

“Mom, don’t you see that?”

“I told you not to look.”

I pointed to the words above the prisoner’s head, but my mother thought I meant the man himself and quickly covered my eyes.

I wriggled out of her arms.

“You really don’t see it? Is it just me?”

“What are you talking about?”

The text read clearly:

—Has sinned against Maiken Knal and 31 others.

What does that even mean?

And why am I suddenly seeing something like that?

Just then, the executioner’s voice continued.

“Furthermore, this man managed to become the lord’s personal gardener, during which he murdered maids and stewards. The victims are as follows: Eisen Thral, Darkus Miem, Maiken Knal, Sele…”

“Ah! Maiken!”

Suddenly, the prisoner shouted from beneath the sack.

The executioner scowled and barked,

“Silence!”

“Maiken, huh? That was my most thrilling kill. You guys tracked me down using clues from that corpse, didn’t you?”

“I said, silence!”

“Hey now, bit harsh on a man about to die, don’t you think?”

Outraged voices burst from the crowd at the man’s shameless words.

But my attention was fixed elsewhere.

Maiken Knal, that was one of the names written above his head.

Could it be?

I focused my entire attention on the letters above the prisoner’s head.

Fwoosh.

As if responding to my will, the translucent panel grew larger.

The “and 31 others” part disappeared, replaced by dozens of full names.

—Drian Leila

—Hans Fon

—Rian Dique

—Eisen Thral

—Darkus Miem…

Suddenly, it hit me.

These are the people he killed!

I had just heard the judge read off those very names moments ago.

Then…

SLAM.

The lord banged the armrest of his chair and shouted,

“That’s enough. Carry out the execution!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Huh? I’m really dying now?”

Clack.

The noose tightened around the man’s neck.

The trapdoor fell open, and his body thrashed in agony.

Time passed.

When his body finally went limp like a chunk of meat, I heard my mother’s voice.

“Whew. That was hard to watch. Are you okay, Mide?”

“Yeah…”

I was about to tell her about the strange blood-like writing I had seen.

But she spoke first.

“Sigh… It should have been your father here instead of me.”

“….”

“Times like these make his absence feel even heavier. Ugh, what am I saying in front of a child?”

My father was a hunter.

He was good at what he did and was well-known in our village.

But during his last hunt, he was torn apart by a bear.

His name was…

“Let’s go. We don’t need to stay here any longer, right?”

“Um, Mom.”

“What is it?”

“Above your head…”

—Has sinned against Arald Mohan and 7 others.

That blood-red name.

Hovering above my mother’s head.

It was my father’s name.

Twenty years had passed.

The fifth Demon King had descended upon the continent.

After a long and twisted journey, I had ended up as a member of the hero’s party destined to face off against that Demon King.

One night, after we had dealt with the entirety of the demon army and were left with only the final battle ahead…

“Mide, wake up. It’s your turn.”

“Auntie?”

“Call me ‘noona.’ How many times do I have to tell you before you get it?”

Clicking my tongue once, I got up from my seat.

My head throbbed like it was about to split open, probably because of the foul old dream I had just seen.

The one who had woken me, Neril Slane, a member of the hero’s party and my comrade, sat beside me.

“Looks like you had a bad dream.”

“A bad memory came back. It feels ominous to have a dream like that the night before fighting the Demon King. I think I should sit out tomorrow.”

“Well, that might actually help the party’s unity.”

I let out a short chuckle at her words.

Neril gave me a sidelong glance and continued.

“You always keep to yourself, after all. Everyone avoids you.”

“I’m the one avoiding them.”

“A wonderful case of mental gymnastics. And technically accurate, too. You don’t trust anyone in this party, do you?”

How could I?

And that includes you.

I glanced up above Neril’s head.

—Has sinned against May Enerika and 287 others.

That number was enough to make the lunatic we executed in our territory look like a timid child.

And it wasn’t just Neril.

For a party supposedly destined to save the world, the names and numbers floating above each of their heads said otherwise.

Well, I’m sure each of them has their reasons.

But it’s hard to swallow heart-warming tales about trusting your comrades when those numbers are staring you in the face.

Meanwhile, Neril kept talking.

“No one is going to like someone who can’t show trust first.”

“We were brought together out of necessity. Once the Demon King is dead, we will all go our separate ways.”

“Some of them are planning to stay together even after this quest ends. I’m not one of them, though.”

“Yeah, your social skills are just as bad as mine.”

Neril simply shrugged.

She leaned in toward me slightly.

I tilted my head and asked,

“I will just say this ahead of time, don’t suddenly confess or anything.”

“Still half-asleep, aren’t you?”

“Then what is it? You’re making this weird atmosphere.”

“I just wanted to talk about him.”

She gestured with her chin toward one of our comrades still deep in dreamland.

The hero, Kaeld Wake.

Whenever a Demon King descends, a hero always rises and he was the fifth in the continent’s history.

I was a little surprised by the cold look on Neril’s face as she stared at him.

“Your expression’s kind of icy. Don’t like Kaeld?”

“Who knows.” The most update n0vels are published on n0velfire.net

“That’s a vague answer.”

“Well, I have lived a long time. My emotions have worn down over the years. Whether I like or dislike someone doesn’t matter much to me anymore. What matters is results.”

“…”

“I acknowledge your skills, Mide. Even before joining this party, you had a name for yourself as a mercenary. If you had settled down in a guild instead of drifting around, you would probably be the guild leader by now.”

“Hmm.”

“On the other hand, if we are being objective, Kaeld hasn’t really shown the qualities of a hero.”

I gave a short, mocking laugh.

Quite the opposite of how the other party members see things.

“You say that now? The night before the final battle?”

“It’s precisely because it’s the night before that I can reflect calmly.”

“…”

“You couldn’t trust anyone in this party, but especially not Kaeld. That distrust only worsened your already shaky position. I used to think you were just being dumb… but maybe you were seeing the same things I was.”

I stayed silent.

Neril idly picked up a twig and began scratching strange drawings into the dirt before speaking again.

“What about Kaeld can’t you trust?”

“I have got pretty sharp instincts.”

“So what did those instincts pick up from Kaeld?”

I moved my lips several times but said nothing in the end.

I had never told anyone about this ability.

Not even my own mother, of course.

Neril waited a little longer before suddenly stretching.

“Not that it really matters now. We will find out tomorrow anyway.”

“Exactly. So get some sleep, Auntie.”

“Fufu. Old folks don’t need much sleep.”

“…”

“And if you call me ‘Auntie’ one more time, I will kill you.”

Didn’t she just say she was old herself? Is she expecting me to call her ‘granny’?

After she went back to bed, I was left alone with my thoughts.

Naturally, they led back to Kaeld.

I could see people’s sins.

And if I ever saw my name or someone connected to me among them, I would start digging.

And I always found the truth.

I always made them pay.

But that guy…

I stared quietly at his peacefully sleeping face.

Or rather, at the crimson blood-like letters floating above his head.

—Has sinned against Bion Kunze and 148,304,291 others.

Roughly 148 million people.

…

As far as I know, that’s about the population of this entire continent.

An absolutely absurd number.

I couldn’t even begin to imagine what kind of crimes he had committed.

I dug like mad dog, but I still couldn’t find out whether my own name was on that list.

Just what the hell has he done… that bastard.

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