The town’s children
Rebec, after a night’s dawn.
The Saint’s Eve attack had left significant damage, so today the town was swamped with repairs.
“Your Majesty! Sorry to bother you! I didn’t mean to—”
Arriving at the scene, a serious-looking young man stood waiting.
Behind him, a half-collapsed house.
Not a wooden one. Probably a higher-tier home, built with considerable savings.
Now, ruined. All thanks to Saint’s Eve.
I circled the wreckage. Bad. Really bad. More like a ruin than a house.
“Uh… is it… fixable…?”
I pulled out DORECA, opened the menu.
Compared the magic and materials needed for repair versus rebuilding from scratch.
Repair was still more efficient.
Ah. So when it’s this destroyed, rebuilding actually costs less.
“This one’s better off rebuilt entirely.”
“Huh…?”
The man froze.
“Don’t worry. This was natural disaster-level damage. I’ll fix it for free. Materials on my end.”
It’s about the holy night. I can’t bear to burden the people with this.
So I said that to ease their minds—but the young man waved his hands frantically.
“No, no, that’s fine. But… can you fix it?”
“If I set my mind to it, I can.”
Swallowing the words that would follow—“but it’ll cost you”—I switch to another.
“Why?”
“Actually…”
The young man stepped into the ruins.
He stood before a wall that barely remained.
I followed, stepping in, looking at the wall.
There it was.
A horizontal scratch, like from a sharp knife.
“This… is my child’s. Right when they started crawling, they stood here.”
“Ah. So this marks their growth from the start. You’d like to keep it, then?”
“Yes.”
“…Already this far?”
It hit me.
A child’s growth history carved into the wall.
Heavy.
“I understand. We’ll restore it.”
“Really?”
The wall was restored with careful precision, more magic and materials spent than expected—but seeing the young man, his wife, and their child smiling at the result, I decided it was worth it.
☆
“Hey, Your Majesty.”
Right after fixing the young man’s house, a boy around ten years old approached.
“What is it?”
“Did you really chase away the Demon God?”
“Who told you that?”
I narrowed my eyes, asking back.
Officially, we said he’d been driven off after attacking us.
We’re keeping quiet about the fact that the Demon God might have returned.
After all, this world was once wiped out by one.
If people found out it had come back, chaos could follow.
That’s why we’ve been keeping the truth sealed—but this kid already knew.
“Dad said he saw it. The one that attacked us… looked just like the Demon God we saw before.”
“What does your father do, anyway?”
“Wait, you mean the ‘Royal Knight’ thing? That’s what they were doing, huh?”
Royal Knight—yeah, that’s what they called them.
Makes sense. I could kind of picture it.
Like, in my past life—well, not exactly the same, but close—got sent out to kill a demon god, got turned into a slave, ended up back as a human, now living in Rebeck.
If that’s the case, figuring it was the demon god just from seeing it? No surprise.
The last bit of the Holy Night had already become something else—barely even a remnant of what it used to be.
That’s probably what the demon god looked like.
The kid just stared up at me, waiting for an answer.
No point hiding it.
“Yeah… it was the demon god.”
“Seriously? That thing—the king actually drove it off?”
“Mm. Guess so.”
“Ooooh!”
The boy suddenly lit up, eyes wide.
“Dang, the king’s awesome. Beating a demon god? King’s insane.”
"Shut up, calm down. Don't yell so loud."
Might cause trouble if anyone hears, but the boy didn’t care, kept repeating, "Whoa, man, that’s awesome. Beating a demon god? The king’s insane."
☆
On the way to the next site, they passed by a park.
They spotted kids playing there.
"Chee, again, out?"
"Oh, me, I got it."
"I missed too. Yay!"
"Yay, even though you missed?"
"’Cause I’m the slave’s role, duh."
The kids were drawing lots with crumpled paper.
The boy who drew the winning slip sat under a tree in a wooden crate.
The other two stood before him, bowing low.
"Master, what shall we do today?"
"Anything for the king, no problem."
Acting... no, more like playing house.
Since earlier, 'master,' 'king'—were they talking about me?
"Alright, let’s get going."
The king’s child said it, with a big, pompous air.
Nah, that’s not me. I wouldn’t say something like that.
Just as I thought—
“Nuh-uh, Ivan-kun. The king doesn’t say things like that.”
“That’s right. You really don’t get it, do you? You don’t know anything about the king.”
“Eeeh…”
“I’ll show you the real king. So you’re the demon god now.”
“Again with the demon god? At least make it the slave lord—”
“Penalty for mistaking the king.”
“Got it, got it…”
The boy stood up. Two boys faced each other.
The girl stepped behind the boy playing king.
“Prepare yourself, demon god.”
The boy playing king—seemed to be having a blast.
Guess it really is me, after all.
The king who fights alongside his slave, who tells the slave mid-battle, “Your smile gives me strength,” then defeats the demon god.
…That’s me, isn’t it.
Kinda embarrassing, being turned into a plaything like this.
Not knowing the feelings of the very person involved, the children nodded with satisfied faces.
“Phew, I’m thirsty.”
“Let’s buy some juice. I got pocket money from Mom.”
“Whoa, a thousand-credit note?”
“Hey, let’s go to that old man’s shop. If you get a lucky draw, you can have as much juice as you want.”
“Yeah. Let’s go.”
The children left the park.
Kind of cute, really.
I pulled out a common card and cast a luck boost spell on the three of them.
Then, turning around, I started walking toward the next site.
“Yesss! Jackpot!”
A child’s voice rang out from far away.
Good thing they won.
That’s what I was thinking—
The card I’d enchanted for the kids suddenly flared with light.
A blinding glow, even in broad daylight—familiar light.
The common card had evolved into a rare one.