At the almshouse where Kuze grew up, there was a small pond. A murky pond, filthy with algae. On the opposite shore, what appeared to be the vestiges of a divine idol were buried in the roots of a tree, but since none of the teachers gave it a second thought, it might not have been an idol of the Wordmaker. It was a place that everyone avoided, but Kuze went there on occasion. Late at night, he’d slip out of the dormitory, and as he stepped over leaves wet with dew and heard the chirping insects echo around him, he traveled the somber path—always alone. However, once night fell, there was the voice of someone singing there. A tiny, faint, boyish voice. Sung with Word Arts not of this world, a song of nostalgia for a far-off time. It was such a quiet song that no one had ever heard except for Kuze. Moonlight. The warble of the trees, waving in the wind. A small song, only audible in that moment when the world fell silent. Beautiful terror and mystery, as if catching a glimpse of a faraway place beyond the reach of Word Arts. She had no weight. She was able to dance on top of a single flower petal. Angels were said to have been born when the Wordmaker created their world. However, as if left behind in the cogwheels of the world as they began to turn—her eyes couldn’t see anything, and her ears didn’t hear anything. She was an afterimage of creation, any meaning behind wielding the power she was given now gone, simply existing there until the day she should disappear. There were none who knew what happened to Kuze the Passing Disaster after he was defeated in the eleventh match and had fallen from the tournament. The man who had betrayed everything neither returned to Aureatia nor to the Order. Even if he had been forgiven for what he had done, this must have been what he himself wanted. “…Oh yeah. That’s right. You can remember that star’s location because of the hexagonal shape.” A man in a black robe walked all alone down a road that connected two cities somewhere. However, the man continued to talk as if there was someone there next to him. “I remember that. A long, long time ago, Father Maqure taught me all about it…” On the hand sticking up into the night sky, there were no longer any fingers capable of pointing to the stars. His whole body was falling apart—and surely with no hope of it getting better. The family who had been his personal symbol of happiness and smiles had been left far behind. Now he didn’t carry the proof of his faith, the paladin’s great shield, on his back. Close to half of his hair had lost its color, and he seemed almost like the angel he was looking at. Nevertheless, he had been saved. He got the feeling that there was real happiness in the world. “Yeah. Let’s go see that, too… Nah, I’m not lonely at all. No matter where you end up in the world, there’ll always be Word Arts there.” According to the Order doctrine, angels didn’t take forms of young girls in white. The angels the Wordmaker brought to this world, the power to bestow salvation to others, lay within a person’s heart. However, maybe the heart bestowed by the Wordmaker could be found all over this world of theirs. Just as it was possible, through Word Arts, to express one’s heart to the wind, the water, and the soil. This world of theirs was filled with many miracles, the sort that no one ever saw… Even Nastique must have wanted to become one of those miracles, too. The young Kuze alone had encountered the forgotten and left-behind angel. Disconnected from their world of existence, Nastique took the lives of those from theirs. That was miserable. A terribly sad reality. However, what had been truly sad was forcing Nastique to take the lives of others.
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That was why they would go on, just the two of them. To ensure that she never had to take any more lives again. “It’ll be just fine, Nastique.” The man smiled. He no longer had to fight for anyone else. He managed not to kill. He managed not to make her kill. He was so glad. “I just know…everyone will be happy.” The Western Outer Ward Church had been abandoned following the orphans’ temporary emigration to Okafu, but it hadn’t been sold off. The Gray-Haired Child had looked after the building as it was the place the children would eventually return. Of course, Leisha didn’t learn until afterward that the nice boy who had told her Kuze’s whereabouts was called the Gray-Haired Child. She had thought his name just described his appearance. Leisha was doing everything she could to decorate the church interior. “C’mon, no one’s going to use this place until we come back anyway, right?” Gilea had come to get Leisha and, in the process, gotten himself stuck helping her out. “There isn’t any point to cleaning or decorating, right?” “There absolutely is.” The following day, Leisha and the children were returning to Okafu. There wouldn’t be anyone who could stay in this building to wait. So at the very least, she wanted to make it as tidy as possible. “I’m making sure Father Kuze won’t feel lonely when he comes back.” Leisha hadn’t said anything to anyone about the day Kuze suddenly changed. Whether he claimed otherwise, there was no way Kuze was actually a bad person. Not only that, but at the time— …You’re the stupid one, Father Kuze. They had received a letter from the grand priest Maqure assuring them the Order was bound to improve from here on out. He also said that Kuze’s match had touched the hearts of many people. Leisha knew that Kuze had been a big fat liar—he had been thinking about what was best for her and the others the whole time. Even when he tried to scare Leisha, she immediately picked up on the lie. It should have been easy for Kuze to use his much larger body to strangle tiny Leisha. It should’ve been nothing to him. Of course that gentle hug he gave me wasn’t going to knock me unconscious. Leisha continued to neatly decorate the interior with her clumsy, handmade paper decorations. The cafeteria. The parlor. The playroom. The kitchen. The chapel. Every single corner of the church was filled with precious memories made with Kuze. Perhaps this church had been the house she wanted to live in with Kuze the whole time. “…Leisha,” Gilea said, concerned. Leisha understood he was trying to be considerate in his own way. “They’re totally going to find Father Kuze, right?” “You’ve got it all wrong, Gilea.” Leisha smiled like a blooming flower. “We were all going to go look for him.” Right now, she was still in the middle, but someday, the time would come when they would all be happy. Then, someday, Leisha would become the happiest of all, as Kuze’s bride. So please—angels. Make everyone happy. She could keep believing, however long it took. Since these teachings had made Leisha’s most precious person happy. Everyone, including Father Kuze.