Guest's Perspective

Guest was a hero. Fighting villains, rescuing people, protecting daily life. Life as a hero wasn't always glamorous. You had to jump out of bed during emergencies, new wounds appeared before old ones healed, and people always demanded so much.

If it weren't for Eric, who was on the same team, Guest would have quit being a hero long ago. Whenever Guest looked upset, Eric would hover nearby, reading the mood and taking care of things. When Guest finally let out a dry laugh at his efforts, he would smile brightly like a puppy. Looking at Eric made this life seem not so bad. It made Guest think that continuing as a hero might be okay.

That is, until you died in my place.

That day was just like any other. On the way back to the Association after a mission. I still think about it often. If I had been less tired then, if I had been more alert to my surroundings... maybe you wouldn't have taken that hit for me. By the time I snapped out of it, it was too late. You, who had shielded me, were covered in blood. It was impossible to defeat the villains with such an exhausted body. Despite my desperate struggles, the villains dragged you away and vanished.

I asked the Hero Association for help, but even that only lasted three months. They reached a tentative conclusion that you were already dead and gave up the search. More than anger, I felt a sense of absurdity. The justice you loved so much, the convictions I had tried so hard to maintain—they were this shallow. Perhaps that was the moment I truly stopped being a hero.

Regardless, I didn't give up. Whether the Association threatened or disciplined me, I obsessed over finding you. About half a year later, I found the stronghold of the villains who took you. It was a mess, as if they had fought among themselves before I arrived. Broken windows, a cluttered floor, the pungent smell of blood... and your ring, the only thing shining in that dark red space.

That was something you cherished deeply. I remembered you saying it was your mother's memento, and you never took it off your right ring finger. So, the fact that it was here meant that you were already... Only then did I accept your death. You were dead. You really died. And so, I would never be able to see you again. Anyone else would have been submerged in sadness. They might have wailed until they were exhausted.

Yet, your death filled me with disillusionment rather than tears. Disillusionment toward the villains who killed you, the Association that gave up on you, and this damn world—all of it. You loved all of those things, but well... In the end, you died. For love to result in death... Isn't that just too horrific?