Arc-6 Ch-48

A gentle breeze brushed against my cheeks. Sunlight spilled through gaps in the clouds torn by the wind, illuminating the land. The fields stretching around, filled with wheat reaching toward the sky, looked like a green carpet. In a few months, the beautiful green would turn into a shining gold, bringing abundant blessings to the territory. In the past, even if I had seen this scenery and thought it beautiful, I doubt I would have called it precious. Examining the soil, sowing the seeds, watering, carefully nurturing, and harvesting. Each stalk of wheat obtained through such labor feels as precious as real gold. On spring holidays, feeling the breath of life, it became our routine to stroll on the hill overlooking the territory.

After the stroll, we would lay a cloth at the base of a tree of just the right size and enjoy a light meal. After eating, he would rest his head unguardedly on my lap. Doing nothing in particular, simply enjoying time passing idly, is the utmost luxury. From a short distance, the voices of several children could be heard. Some were boys, some were girls. All of them were our beloved children. As we aged, the number of laughter-filled voices increased, one by one. Children grow much faster than parents anticipate. Like wheat from powerless seeds, they grow steadily and bear fruit, now standing on their own and running about energetically.

It feels as if only yesterday they slept in our arms before their necks could even support themselves. Lowering my face with a tinge of loneliness, I saw his unguarded face. A simple scene in an ordinary rural area. Others might think so at first glance. But to me, this scene is an irreplaceable treasure. There was a modest happiness. The moment I heard the cries of my child, the moment I witnessed the gradual opening of the territory.

There were unavoidable natural disasters. Crops ruined by sudden storms, the moment we realized that the newly cultivated land was unsuitable for farming. There were unexpected wars. A republic suddenly collapsing, the duchy invading again. The days spent praying for the safety of the one I loved and protecting my children made me stronger. There were disputes that split the country in two. Rebellions of nobles who were punished, exiled, or stripped of titles, conflicts between the royal family and the ducal house.

No nation exists perfectly. The efforts we made to correct its distortions would be forgotten, left in the shadow of the glory of great men, never recorded in history. Comparing the happiness gained and the hardships endured, it seems utterly disproportionate. Yet strangely, I never felt it was unbearable. We had no time to regret, as we were fully occupied with survival.

Even if ridiculed as clumsy, the deeds humans can do are limited. I cannot say we always made the best or most perfect choices. Historians of later generations might see some of our actions as foolish. Even so, we did everything we could with all our strength. Crawling on the ground, covered in mud, wounded and laughed at, that was our proof of life. There are those who despise me as a villainess who brought ruin.

There are those who pity me as a fallen noblewoman. Indeed, from the daughter of the chief ducal family and betrothed of a prince, to marrying a frontier lord and being called ugly—perhaps that could be seen as disgraceful. Yet now, I harbor no dissatisfaction with this life. There is no palace to welcome me. That is fine, because his arms embrace me.

Humans live looking upward. To the sun illuminating the world, the moon floating in the dark night, the morning star guiding travelers. In longing for those seated in the heavens, they fail to notice the beauty of flowers blooming at their feet. All beings cannot escape the fate of their demise. A great king dies and is buried; his name becomes mere letters in history, and his magnificent tomb eventually crumbles to ash. Even the strongest, invincible armor that slays all enemies will eventually lose its wielder, rust, and decay into a heap of iron.

I do not claim that love alone is eternal or imperishable. Against the absolute and irreversible flow of time, nobility, age, strength, and weakness mean nothing. In a sense, it is fair to all beings. Therefore, I shall live like a flower blooming in the wild. Blooming, bearing fruit, sowing seeds, and then falling. I shall do what is ordinary and natural. At times, this happiness frightens me. Because it is happiness, I fear losing it. At the end of time, that day will inevitably come.

The day absolute death will come to tear us apart, against which we cannot even resist. Or perhaps the demon lord, once asleep, might suddenly rise and scorch the world with fire. At the final moment, reflecting on my life, Even then, I would likely have no regrets. When one is continuously fulfilled, one eventually forgets gratitude. I was once fulfilled.

Fulfilled, yet I always felt something lacking. Because I fell, I recognized the value of happiness. The preciousness of receiving, the wonder of giving. Some believe that a flawed gemstone has more value than a perfect jewel. Because the flaws of a gemstone are the history it has walked through.

Being just a little unfulfilled is the perfect amount. A life where everything goes perfectly would have no ups and downs, and nothing would happen at all. I looked at him, asleep with his head resting on my lap. If he were to pass before me, I would wish that I was beside him at that final moment. I would suppress my sadness and send him off with a smile so he could depart in peace. After the funeral, I would shed tears at his tombstone, remembering him. If I were to pass before him, I would take his hand in mine and go with a smile at the last moment. I would express my gratitude for the fortune of meeting him, for the joy of being loved, for giving meaning to my life, and quietly breathe my last like falling asleep.

Leaving behind a small, indelible mark on his heart so that he would not forget me. I leaned close to his sleeping face and pressed my lips to his. With gratitude to him for giving me the happiness I have now. I have strange dreams. Dreams where, on the night my engagement was broken off, he appears and saves me. Dreams where, seated on the throne, he governs the country and I am by his side. Dreams where, furious at the broken engagement, I rise up against the kingdom and burn the world. There is a theory that dreams are manifestations of the subconscious.

If that is true, I cannot help but chuckle at the hidden thoughts I had not been aware of. The man whose engagement was broken off insults His Highness with foul words, and is the only one to stand on my side. Apparently, like a maiden of my age, I do not doubt that he will help me. In dreams where he has become king, I handle the affairs of the state next to him, flustered by the unfamiliar position. Apparently, I still have lingering attachment to the position of queen. In dreams where I have been jilted, I am furious, invading the kingdom, turning the enemy land to scorched earth, smiling. Even if I think I have let go of grudges, perhaps anger still smolders in my heart. Because the dream feels so real, I find myself accepting that "such a version of the world might have existed."

Without him, I would fall endlessly, yet I believe he will always save me. How crucial is he to my fate?

Thinking of that brings a smile to my face. If a god existed and asked me if I wanted to turn back time and redo everything, what would I do?

I would hesitate for a moment, but still, I think I would choose this life. He is my only partner. He is not a hero who sends many to their deaths, nor a king who rushes about for the world. A lazy, sarcastic, playful, slightly spoiled, and kind regional lord. It is important that he can live as himself. I, in reality, cannot become the me of the dreams. I cannot become the queen who governs a country, nor the witch who brings calamity, nor the saint who guides the people. And that is fine. That is how it should be.

Having status or power and being happy oneself are not necessarily the same thing. I will strive to be a good wife, a good mother, a good person. That is the standard by which I live now. People say the world is harsh. They say those filled with desire stride about as if it is theirs, that sparks of conflict smolder, and anger, hatred, and sorrow scorch the skies. That is surely true. Having been near the core of the kingdom, I have seen more of it than most.

From childhood, having felt a certain disappointment, resignation, and anger toward humans, I deluded myself into believing I could properly guide the country. How arrogant that was. In the end, I was no different from the ignorant fools who blindly believed that they alone were right. What I learned in this land was people’s kindness, their compassion for others, and unconditional love.

Human society is filled with ugliness and abhorrent things. Yet, it is equally filled with beauty and dignity. If the world were truly cruel, humans would have long since perished. And yet, people still survive. So, surely, it will be alright. The good people who passed away without leaving their names in history are why the world continues today. Deep despair that tears the heart, and great hope that illuminates people—these are just repeated phenomena in the flow of time.

We must live in a way we can be proud of so that our children do not despair. Line them up, and all is well. Surely, the world is beautiful. I hear the voices of our children calling us; it is almost time to return home.

"Leon, wake up."

I gently shook his shoulder. I lovingly stroked his face as he rubbed his sleepy eyes. Eventually, his hand covered mine, and slowly our faces drew close until our lips met. The softness and warmth were unbearably dear.

"Shall we go home?"

"Yes."

We called to the children and set out for home. Seeing the sun beginning to tilt westward, I thought surely tomorrow would be clear. I prayed and wished for a happy future for me and him, our children, and all the people living on this land.

I, Angelica Fou Bartfort, With my beloved Leon Fou Bartfort, Shall live resolutely in this world, harsh yet beautiful to all.

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Authors Note

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This is the latter half of the epilogue of Part 6 of my Mobu Seka fanfiction.

I have been reading the original web series since its early days, but I never imagined that I would end up writing fanfiction myself.

When Jun Shiosato’s comic adaptation was serialized and the anime aired, I started casually writing short stories based on jokes from certain forums and store-exclusive bonuses, which became the beginning of this work.

I first posted it on Pixiv, and it was well received; later, when I posted it on Hameln and saw it enter the rankings, I was genuinely surprised.

It has even reached overseas sites, and I am deeply grateful to all the readers.

Original route, I guess

Illustration from a Mobu Seka fanfic (Reddit)

Later, at the request of a client, an official illustration for this work was created, and from there the story expanded into a long-form work.

I kept writing with the thought of “I’ll finish it before the release of the final volume of the original” and “I want to make it in time for the end of the comic adaptation,” and now Part 6 has come to an end.

Originally, this chapter was planned to be the finale, but I was inspired by illustrations of Leon and Angie’s children (Pixiv), and I plan to begin writing Part 7.

Part 7 will start in about a month and will feature Leon, Angie, and their children.

Spanning about 20 chapters, it will be set roughly 10 years after the events of this part in the Kingdom of Holfort, and several characters from the original work who did not appear in this story will also make appearances.

I hope it will provide entertainment until the Mobu Seka study abroad comic begins and the second season of the anime airs.

Please wait a little while until the continuation is released.