Chapter 56 – The Saint’s Tears Are Forged from Lies

The door to the inn’s common room swung inward.

A heavy silence fell over our table. The cheerful chatter and clinking of mugs died instantly. Every eye turned towards the entrance, drawn by a presence that seemed to drain the warmth from the air. There, silhouetted against the evening gloom, stood two figures.

“We’re back.”

My voice cut through the stillness.

Kenji, his face etched with a week’s worth of worry, shot to his feet.

“Ryuuji! You’re alright!”

Reina’s gaze was a physical force.

It bypassed me entirely.

It locked onto the boy standing half-hidden behind me, and her eyes narrowed to icy slits. A predator assessing a threat.

Daisuke just grunted, but it was a grunt that conveyed profound relief.

I stepped fully into the light, guiding the new piece of my grand narrative with a hand on his shoulder. He was perfect. He was a walking, breathing tragedy, a magnet for the kind of plot I had craved for years. This boy, Leo, was the key.

My key.

“Everyone, I’d like you to meet someone.”

I pushed him forward gently.

He stumbled, catching himself on the edge of the table. His clothes were rags, his face smudged with dirt, and his eyes were wide with a practiced fear that was almost as good as the real thing. Almost.

“Who… who is this, Ryuuji?”

Kenji’s question was soft. He looked from me to the boy, his brow furrowed with a hero’s earnest concern. The fool. He saw a victim to be saved, not a tool to be used.

I took a deep, shuddering breath.

It was time for the performance of a lifetime. A performance to secure my future betrayal. A monologue to set the stage for my glorious, lonely ascent.

“His name is Leo.”

My voice was a low whisper.

I let it crack just a little.

The key to a good performance is subtlety. You must draw the audience in, make them lean forward, desperate for every word.

“I found him in the Whispering Woods. He was alone.”

Reina’s knuckles were white where she gripped the hilt of her dagger.

She hadn’t blinked.

Not once.

Her focus remained entirely on Leo, a silent promise of swift and total annihilation if he proved unworthy of my… protection. Her loyalty was a terrifying, beautiful thing. And so wonderfully misguided.

“Alone? A child that young? What happened?”

Kenji’s voice was filled with a predictable, righteous anger.

He was already casting himself as the boy’s protector. He didn’t realize he was just a supporting character in my story, and Leo was my co-star.

This was the moment.

The scene where I establish the stakes.

Where I paint a backstory so tragic, so heart-wrenching, that when Leo eventually betrays me, the impact will be legendary. I had spent hours coaching him, feeding him the lines, crafting a history of pain that would make a stone weep. A history that I was intensely, furiously jealous of.

My lower lip began to tremble.

I forced the memory of every failed attempt at tragedy to the front of my mind. The goddess’s initial scorn. My party’s infuriating belief in me. Siegfried’s pathetic, unwanted redemption. All of it. I channeled that raw frustration, that burning injustice, into the performance.

“He… he had a party.”

The words came out choked.

I could feel the heat rising in my face, the sting behind my eyes. This was method acting at its finest. I was becoming the sorrow.

“They were his friends. His family. Or so he thought.”

Kenji leaned forward, his expression rapt.

“What did they do?”

Here it comes. The core of the lie. The beautiful, perfect, stolen tragedy.

My whole body started to shake. I wasn’t just acting anymore. I was mourning the epic backstory that should have been mine. This kid had it all, and I had to invent it for him. The sheer unfairness of it was a physical blow.

“They took everything from him.”

A single, perfect tear escaped my eye.

It traced a glistening path down my cheek.

I didn’t even have to force it. The jealousy was so potent it manifested as liquid grief. This kid gets betrayed by his whole party, left for dead, and has his unique class stolen? It was the premium starter pack for any self-respecting edgy loner. And I was stuck with these loyal, trusting idiots.

“His rare class… his magic… they used a forbidden ritual. They ripped it from his very soul and left him with nothing. They cast him aside in that forest, assuming the beasts would finish the job.”

I clenched my fist on the table.

The wood creaked under the pressure.

My knuckles ached. It felt good. It grounded me in the sheer, agonizing injustice of my own perfect fate. I was supposed to be the one left for dead. I was supposed to be the one crawling back from the abyss.

“No…”

Kenji whispered the word.

His eyes were wide with horror. He looked at Leo with such pity it made me want to scream. That pity was meant for me.

Reina’s hand slowly, deliberately, moved away from her dagger.

Her icy glare softened, replaced by a look of profound understanding. She wasn’t looking at Leo anymore. She was looking at me. And in her eyes, I saw a terrible, familiar light. The light of complete and utter misinterpretation.

She thought my pain was for him.

She believed my tears were shed for another’s suffering.

She saw this as proof of my boundless, selfless empathy. My ability to feel the world’s pain as my own. In her mind, I wasn’t just a hero. I was a saint. A martyr bearing the weight of all the tragic backstories in the universe.

This was a disaster.

A glorious, beautiful disaster.

My attempt to build up a future traitor was only cementing my reputation as a paragon of virtue.

I buried my face in my hands.

My shoulders heaved with silent, wracking sobs of pure, unadulterated rage. It was the most convincing display of grief I had ever managed.

“To be so thoroughly… used. To have your trust so utterly… shattered.”

My voice was a muffled wreck.

I was talking about myself. I was lamenting my own stolen narrative. But they would never know that.

“It’s the cruelest fate imaginable.”

I peeked through my fingers.

Leo was playing his part perfectly. He looked down at the floor, trembling, a single tear of his own rolling down his cheek. He was a natural. A prodigy of pathos. I hated him so much.

Kenji walked around the table.

He placed a firm, reassuring hand on Leo’s shoulder.

“You don’t have to worry anymore. You’re safe with us.”

Leo looked up, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

“But… I have nothing. I’m weak. I’ll only be a burden.”

The perfect line. Delivered with the perfect amount of hesitation. He was worth every copper piece I promised him.

“Nonsense.”

Kenji’s voice boomed with heroic conviction.

“Anyone Ryuuji brings to us is someone worth protecting. Your strength doesn’t matter. Your heart does. And if he trusts you, then so do we.”

I looked up, wiping my fake tears away with the back of my hand.

I managed a weak, watery, heroic smile. Inside, I was calculating. This was going better than I could have imagined. They weren’t just accepting him. They were embracing him. The more they trusted him, the deeper the betrayal would cut.

“He needs a place to belong.”

I said it with such quiet conviction that even I almost believed it.

Reina finally spoke.

Her voice was low, and it held a dangerous edge, like unsheathed steel.

“No one will ever hurt you again, Leo.”

She was speaking to the boy.

But her eyes were locked on me.

The promise wasn’t for him. It was a vow to me. She was swearing to protect the world that I so clearly carried on my shoulders. She would be the sword that struck down anyone who dared to add another ounce of pain to my already overburdened soul.

Her delusion was my greatest shield.

And my most inescapable prison.

Daisuke stood up.

He walked to the bar and returned with a steaming bowl of stew, placing it gently in front of Leo. He patted the boy’s head once. A simple gesture of welcome from the giant.

It was done.

The piece was on the board.

Leo, the boy who was meant to be my Judas, had been welcomed into the fold with open arms. They saw a lost lamb. I saw a ticking time bomb of narrative potential.

I allowed myself a genuine, internal smile.

They were all dancing to my tune, even if they couldn’t hear the music. They thought this was a story about saving a poor, unfortunate soul.

They had no idea they were just actors in my grand, bloody opera of revenge.

The curtain had just risen on the first act.