As Yano passed the warm, glowing window of the Old Oak Tavern, the lively sounds of laughter and clinking glasses poured out, completely unobstructed.
The bustling noise made him feel dazed for a moment.
He hadn't planned to stop, but a few Adventurers seated around a table, pontificating over large mugs of ale, caught his attention.
A brawny man with a brutish face and a missing front tooth took a huge gulp of ale, wiped his mouth, and yelled.
"I'm tellin' ya, the claws on those gray-skinned mongrels are sharper than steel daggers! One swipe, and Old Barton's Iron Oak shield, the one with the iron trim, might as well have been made of paper!"
"You got that right! And their damn Gray Scale hides are as tough as Dwarven plate! You hit 'em with an axe, and it'll send sparks flyin'."
"Hey, you hear about that one? The… nobleman who just had to go try his luck by the Reed River a while back. What was his name… Belmont?"
"Ha! You mean that moron who didn't know his own limits? He's probably food for the swamp lizards by now, or a chew toy for those Gray Scale brutes!"
The brawny man with the missing tooth roared with laughter.
"He gave up a safe gig guarding the city gate for a few copper coins, all to chase the big money hunting Sub-humans."
"Is that really the kind of place for a soft-skinned pretty boy like him? A nobleman? Pfft! He's dead, and there's probably not even a body to collect!"
In the past, hearing such vile words blaspheming his family name and the honor of a Knight would have sent a rage through Yano's heart, compelling him to draw his sword.
But at this moment, a strange calm washed over him.
He stopped in his tracks, listening silently outside the tavern window. His face was devoid of expression; he didn't even clench his fists.
All he felt now was a deep exhaustion and a sense of complete release from the burden of a meaningless reputation.
He shook his head and was about to head back to the inn, but the Adventurers' next words pierced his calm like an ice pick:
"Pity his poor widow. Heard she was holding a funeral for him at the small chapel today! Tsk, tsk. Saddled with two brats, life's gonna be hard for her now!"
'A funeral?! Lola?! The children?!'
It was as if a giant, icy hand had seized Yano's heart. It stopped for an instant before hammering so frantically it felt as if it would burst from his chest.
In that instant, all the exhaustion and aches, the uncertainty about the future, and the fear of the Demon vanished completely.
'He had to see them immediately!'
No longer caring if he drew attention, he whipped around and sprinted with all his might toward the small, white stone chapel on the west side of town.
...
It was nearly dusk. The fading sunlight gilded the neat rows of white tombstones in the church cemetery with a dim, reddish-gold light. Instead of warmth, it only deepened the sense of desolation.
The air was thick with the damp smell of freshly turned earth, the faint scent of wilting white flowers, and a grief so heavy it felt suffocating.
The deep toll of a bell rang out one last time. An old priest in simple black robes stood before a newly erected, crude wooden cross, his shadow stretched long and thin by the setting sun.
His hands were clasped, cupping a Bronze Holy Emblem that symbolized the sun and its strength. His voice was old and low, carrying a power that could soothe the soul.
"In the name of the sun, Ignis, we are gathered here..."
"We remember Yano Belmont, who walked in the light of the sun, who wielded sword and shield, and who fulfilled his duty."
"May the light of the Holy Flame of Ignis illuminate his journey into the tranquil night and soothe all lingering regrets and pain."
"..."
After a long silence, the eulogy concluded. The old priest gave a slight nod and turned to Lola, his voice gentle and full of pity.
"Lola, my condolences."
"Ignis will burn away the sin of his greed, just as He grants the living the strength to carry on. May you find comfort in your memories, rather than sinking into an endless night of sorrow."
'My condolences…'
The words struck Lola's already shattered heart like a cold iron hammer.
She wore a coarse black linen dress, her blonde hair tied back messily. A few stray strands, damp with tears, clung to her bloodless cheeks.
Her blue eyes, once brimming with gentle affection, now held nothing but hollow despair and endless tears.
She stared at the freshly dug pit before her, at the grave marked only by a symbolic cross, and felt as though her own heart were being buried alongside it.
'My Yano…'
The dashing squire, the clumsy but determined husband who had tried so desperately to provide for his family... was now nothing but a pile of cold dirt.
She didn't dare to imagine what his final moments were like.
"Mama..."
A small hand gently tugged at the hem of her dress.
Her four-year-old daughter, Emily, tilted her little face up, her clear blue eyes filled with innocent confusion.
"Papa... is he sleeping in the ground? When is he going to wake up? Emily wants to show him my new drawing..."
Beside her, her seven-year-old son, Little Yano, pressed his lips together tightly, trying hard to act like a man. But his trembling shoulders and the red rims of his eyes betrayed his grief.
Lola's body shuddered. She knelt, mustering all her strength to force a smile that looked more painful than a sob.
"Papa... Papa went to a place that's very, very far away... He went to find... to find delicious candy and new toys for Emily and Little Yano... It's going to be a long, long time..."
The sorrow in Lola's eyes deepened with every word until an overwhelming wave of grief consumed her. She collapsed to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably.
"Yano... My dearest Yano..."
Just as she cried to the point where her vision blurred and she was about to faint, a joyous shout pierced the twilight and echoed from behind her.
"LOLA!!!"
Lola froze instantly.
'A hallucination? It has to be a hallucination, brought on by grief...' she thought in despair.
But the voice... it sounded so real.
With a slow, desperate struggle, she turned her head.
There, in the light of the setting sun, a tall, utterly wretched figure was stumbling over the cemetery's low stone wall, sprinting wildly toward her!
The tattered coat, the mud-stained face, the messy, deep-chestnut hair, that familiar silhouette...
'It's Yano!'
'A living, breathing Yano!'
'It wasn't a hallucination! It wasn't a dream!'
In that instant, a torrent of joy powerful enough to burst any dam washed away all her grief and despair.
Lola let out a short, choked sob and threw herself into the man's arms, weeping.
Yano looked down at the trembling figure in his arms, feeling how tightly she clung to him, hearing the heartbroken wails she was trying to stifle deep in her throat.
A storm of conflicting emotions churned within him.
It was a bitter feeling.
A powerful wave of guilt washed over him.
He looked up and saw the light that flared in his son Little Yano's eyes and the tears the boy was fighting to hold back. He saw his daughter Emily's small, bewildered yet delighted face. And he saw the grave that had been made for him.
He was endlessly grateful.
'Cadus above…'
'No, maybe I should be praying to that Mud Demon.'
'No matter what, he was back!'
'He hadn't allowed this desperate funeral to become an irreversible ending!'
"I'm sorry... Lola... I'm so sorry..."
He whispered the words over and over in his wife's ear, his voice choked and hoarse.
He tightened his arms, pulling her and the children tighter into his embrace as if trying to merge them with his own body, to use their tangible warmth to banish the cold of the tombstone.
The last rays of the sunset faded, casting the long, long shadow of the embracing family of four.