"This person is Yuel. She is one and the same as the 'Celestial Communications Officer' Aymedeer and the foremost of the Six Martial Stars that Gunwoong Balliorant brought forth. Even after his death, she was the one who created this nation. In short, she's the hidden ruler of this kingdom!"

"…Don't call me a ruler."

"And yet, you call me a barbarian! I'll call you whatever I want. Anyway, if you have any questions, ask her! She can explain everything about the founding and ideology of the nation. It’s finally time for you to get the answers you've been longing for!"

Yuel glared at me with hollow eyes. It seemed she had avoided even looking in my direction before, but now she had no choice. To one side stood the Princess, and on the other, Siaty. Both of them were children forsaken by the nation—a forgotten legacy that had come to confront her.

"Did you bring them here with this in mind from the start?"

"No? How could I know the future? I'm not a prophet. I didn’t even know who you were until we got here."

True prophets have really ruined people. Whenever things work in my favor, they assume I foresaw it all. They should try making more sense.

"But it doesn't matter if I knew or not. Those two carry within them a powerful wind that pushed them to this place. In the end, they were fated to meet you here. Of course, without me, they might not have made it in one piece."

"You don’t have the power to make people follow you anymore."

"It’s not about power or authority. How many times do I have to tell you? They got here on their own."

Even if I don't intervene or deceive, they’re walking toward this place. They tread upon the hard stone floor, their steps weary but their gazes unwavering.

"And you’re the one who created them. It was inevitable that Siaty and the Princess would find their way here. They might succeed, they might fail, but that doesn't matter."

As much as I can ask questions and hear answers on their behalf, I can’t decide their conclusions. In that sense, bringing them here was indeed a wise choice. Siaty, with her long strides, was the first to approach. I stepped aside, assuming the role of observer.

Go on. Show me. What will you do with the Saint?

With a slight sense of anticipation, I watched as Siaty, instead of confronting Yuel, turned to me with a question.

"Is that corpse over there Gunwoong?"

"He was once Gunwoong. Now, he’s just a corpse."

"Why does that woman have it?"

"Rather than ‘have it,’ perhaps ‘buried with it’ would be more accurate. It’s an underground temple, after all. But wait. Why are you asking me? Ask her."

I brought them here to question Yuel, not me. I can read her thoughts, but I can’t speak for her. Siaty shrugged her shoulders when I expressed my reluctance.

"How can I trust such a suspicious woman?"

Good point.

If someone like Siaty, who fled underground, were suddenly told that this person was the mastermind, she'd be bewildered. Like everyone else, Siaty is only focused on what’s in front of her. Whether it’s true or not, the truth might be too grand for her to grasp in one glance.

"And you trust me?"

"Relatively."

"Thanks."

Siaty chuckled wryly and murmured with a composed expression.

"And now, it doesn’t matter. Who the true mastermind of this nation is, or what they’ve plotted… it’s all too complex and gives me a headache."

"What?"

What? Where did that burning anger go? She looked devastated when she saw that young communications officer earlier, but is that why she’s given up on vengeance?

"Is that alright? Your vengeance against the nation?"

"As you said, I didn’t know the nation. Even as I came to understand it, my thoughts only grew more tangled, and no clear conclusion formed. Who is the villain? What exactly am I seeking vengeance against? It only made me wander more."

Siaty, through her experiences, has grown as a person. But human growth often means sacrificing something. For me, guiding her here by listening to the wind is somewhat of a bittersweet ending.

"That woman isn't younger than me, right?"

"Come on. You look aged because of everything you’ve been through, but she’s definitely older than you."

"Ha. Still, I feel nothing. I didn’t know who she was, and she’s someone I’ve just met today. Who would even care if I killed her?"

She sounds so different from the way she charged forward earlier. There’s an unfamiliar calm in her tone.

"Siaty…"

The Princess, moved to tears, seemed touched, but I was less than pleased with Siaty’s detached demeanor.

"What has changed?"

Siaty responded with a bitter smile.

"Earlier, I snuck into a room and met a communications officer. I think her name was Ayene. She’s the same age as me. Had the children from Hamelun survived, they would have been about her age. Same age, yet one drowned, and the other became a hidden powerhouse in the command. But…"

"But?"

"…Compared to me, she didn’t seem much better off."

She dropped a dented can of canned beans. Tasteless but rich in nutrients and highly compressed, it's a most efficient survival meal. It’s also the least popular.

"A ‘powerhouse’ eating canned beans and living in a dark room? What kind of powerhouse is that?"

Some details about communications officers are classified, but for those who have made it into the inner workings, certain secrets have been unlocked. Siaty now knows how wretched a communications officer's life can be.

"I can’t even find it in myself to despise her."

She realized they are pitiful beings. Suffering more than anyone else, they are free from blame or responsibility. I pointed to Yuel.

"This person here. She’s the one who created communications officers."

"Seems like it. It’s a bit annoying, but she doesn’t seem any different."

She didn’t have common cooking utensils or even food ingredients. Her bed was nothing but stone slabs layered with cloth, and the only warmth was from a single corpse. While Siaty didn’t know what the Saint ate, she understood that Yuel, too, suffered.

Siaty looked down at Yuel. It was a strangely peaceful encounter between the monster who built the nation and the monster it created.

"I just… don’t feel angry anymore."

An unexpected reaction. Yuel, who had been expecting Siaty to pounce, was taken aback.

"…Are you pitying me?"

"Maybe."

Communications officers know everything, gathering information through dozens of golems and relaying it from hundreds of communications officers. At the same time, they know nothing because they are confined to windowless rooms.

They have no lives and therefore bear no responsibility, nor do they possess guilt. No one can blame them, only pity them.

This, too, is Yuel's doing. Communications officers were created for this very purpose. Yet now, finding herself pitied, Yuel felt an odd sense of displeasure.

"Thank you, resistance fighter. If you understand enough, perhaps you should give up and go back? If you stay by the Princess’s side, you’ll be safe. As you have been until now."

"I’ve never been one to value my life. Not until now."

Siaty extended her prosthetic arm. Though her steel arm couldn’t interfere with the Saint's prayer, Yuel was convinced of this and watched passively. But Siaty’s hand wasn’t directed at Yuel.

The corpse that had been cradled by Yuel slipped out. Siaty grabbed the collar and swiftly pulled it away. The corpse was not a praying Saint. Siaty could pull it away. Yuel had been in the middle of a reverent prayer, but now her precious remnant had been stolen from her.

"Ah, ah?"

"At least I gained something good. Huey, is this Gunwoong? The nation’s founding father?"

"Apparently."

Oh, right. That’s a corpse.

To someone who can read thoughts, a corpse is just a former human, devoid of consciousness. Siaty seemed to have found something useful about it. She examined it and questioned me.

"It looks pretty well-preserved for a corpse. Is it really dead? There’s not a single wound."

"He was likely poisoned. No wounds. The body’s in good shape because Yuel treasured it."

"Anyway, if there were people with any standing in this nation, they’d recognize his face, right?"

"Maybe not everywhere, but here at the Inner Circle Command, you’ll find plenty of high-ranking, elderly soldiers who don’t see much front-line action. They’d know."

"Great. With this, I can catch a few people’s attention."

‘Perhaps there’s one last thing to do.’

Siaty prepared to drag the corpse away like a piece of luggage. At that moment, Yuel broke her seemingly endless prayer. She quickly reached out to grasp the corpse’s clothing.

"What are you going to do with him?"

"None of your business."

"He’s already at rest! What good will taking a corpse do?"

Siaty replied indifferently.

"Cutting off the neck of Gunwoong’s corpse might just be shocking enough."

Siaty, indeed. She’s capable of doing things I can’t even imagine without hesitation.

Dragging out Gunwoong’s body, long thought dead, might not cause much uproar. But to Yuel, it would be an unthinkable desecration.

In the Celestial Order, cremation is encouraged, but they don’t burn everyone. Saints or revered clergy are often laid to rest in their physical forms within temples, with Saints regularly blessing and tending to them.

That was part of what Yuel did—driven by personal feelings, perhaps, but for over twenty years, she had done just that.

"I’ve spent my life cursing at things I can’t see. But this? A hidden mastermind? Laughable. I’d rather curse the god who created this world."

"So… are you taking your anger out on his corpse?"

"A corpse has no emotions. But, with this, at least those who knew Gunwoong will hear me out."

Siaty grabbed the corpse’s trouser leg and began dragging it away, pulling it further from Yuel. Yuel, suddenly desperate, clung to the corpse, stopping Siaty with the added weight.

"Let go! He doesn’t deserve to be treated like that by someone like you!"

"Even while alive, I was treated like a piece of meat. Why should a corpse be any different?"

Damn, even in death, this man finds himself caught in a tug-of-war between two women. If he’s watching this from the afterlife, would he be pleased?

No, probably not. He died because he was torn apart like this, didn’t he? He probably wouldn’t enjoy it. More likely, he’d be distressed. I should avoid ending up like that.

Yuel’s desperate attempt to reclaim the corpse felt tragic. While Siaty yanked at his trousers, Yuel couldn’t bring herself to touch his neck, only managing to hold him by the torso. She was clearly afraid of damaging him. It was pitiful.

Siaty muttered.

"One more reason to use this corpse."

"Ah!"

The tense standoff ended abruptly as Siaty exerted more force, and Yuel tumbled backward. A resistance leader’s strength was not something a Saint trapped for over twenty years could counter. Siaty sneered as she looked down at the fallen Yuel.

"If you hate it so much, that’s all the more reason for me to do it. Watch closely. See how I’ll use this corpse."

"You—!"

Realizing she couldn’t overpower her, Yuel, the Saint, clasped her hands together in prayer. Though she possessed tremendous power, she didn’t have the straightforward strength to fight Siaty.

Instead, she began muttering like a villain in a cheap drama, calling upon an angel.

"You insolent…! Just because you made it this far, you think you’re something special?"

Offering herself as a sacrifice, all for the sake of preserving a single corpse. A heavy price for such a trivial purpose. But to Yuel, that corpse was her entire narrow world. Having resolved to face death, she was ready to offer herself as a sacrifice.

"Siaty! Stop for a moment!"

Fortunately, before the angel could descend, the Princess interjected. Siaty complied, and Yuel’s fury softened slightly in the Princess’s presence. Addressing the confrontation, the Princess pleaded with Siaty.

"Siaty, I still have questions. This body might hold answers for me. So could you please wait a moment?"

"Only a moment."

Siaty released the corpse, and it fell lifelessly to the ground. Yuel flinched as if it had landed on her own leg. The Princess stepped between them, shielding Yuel from Siaty.

"…You said you wanted to ask me something, Princess of Grandiomor."

"Yes. Yuel, that’s right? There’s something I’ve wanted to ask you on behalf of the nation—no, on behalf of myself."

Yuel signaled with a nod for her to proceed. The Princess collected herself before voicing her long-held question.

"I have watched this nation for a long time, so I know. I know how powerful and wealthy it is. Though the resistance has stolen significant resources over time, it hasn’t seemed to affect the nation."

"You speak so brazenly of stealing."

"A-ah… I apologize for that. We’ve had to live in hiding and scraping by... But that aside! This nation is truly remarkable! In its structure, its scale! It’s unlike anything the kingdom could even compare to!"

The Princess spoke with noble rhetoric, but Yuel remained cold.

"I didn’t expect compliments from the resistance. Your opinion is duly noted. Then why don’t you surrender?"

"Th-that’s not what I meant! I just… I wonder what it’s all for!"

This nation is rational and efficient, extracting the utmost value from humans under the given conditions. It’s expected. But the Princess questioned, ‘why?’

"Shouldn’t a nation care for and provide for its people? The kingdom failed in that, but the nation born from its ashes can do that, can’t it? If only they lightened the load, if only they took better care of people, if only they were less harsh, this nation could be close to paradise."

"…."

"But it seems like the nation deliberately avoids that. Why? Aren’t we all citizens of this nation? Why does it hold back from giving to its own people?"

Yuel didn’t respond. The Princess took the silence as confusion, and she refined her question further.

"It’s not to indulge in luxury! If that were the case, you would be living far more lavishly! Not in a cramped room with a corpse but in a grand palace under constant care! But you’re not. Why push people into a hellish yoke?"

"…It’s because."

"Yes?"

Finally, Yuel opened her mouth to speak.

"Because this blessed nation that he and I created must continue forever."