There Is No World For ■■

At the entrance to Gemini City, atop a distant transmission tower with a view of the outskirts—

Scarlett O’Hara stood biting her lip anxiously as she stared at the horizon.

Despite her special background—or rather, precisely because of it—she couldn’t do anything.

Calling for government support or retreating on her own were both beyond her authority.

All she could do now was pray, eyes flicking back and forth between the twisted-necked agent and the battlefield in the outskirts.

Please... please let it end here.

As she kept up her desperate prayers, trying to buy time—

Click, click, kkk—

A grotesque sound came from Jeon Yongseop’s neck. The sound of bones either being forced back into place—or becoming even worse.

Realizing what that sound meant, Scarlett whipped her head around.

The agent had already risen and was staring directly at her.

“Memory of Agent No. 2 has been severed. Report what happened.”

It was the voice of an old man, drifting in from a faraway place.

Scarlett—no, Dina—snapped to attention and immediately began her report.

She explained how she used her authority to track down the Commander, how Jeon Yongseop suddenly altered the plan and attempted to capture the Commander alive.

Then, how an unidentified individual neutralized Jeon Yongseop and forced them to retreat to this location—everything, in full detail.

Throughout her entire explanation, the one inhabiting Jeon Yongseop’s body said nothing. Just silently stared out toward the outskirts.

Was he seeing something she couldn’t? Maybe even something Jeon Yongseop himself had never been able to see?

Swallowing her curiosity, Dina finished her report. No response came.

A short silence.

Cold sweat ran down Dina’s back, and just as the sky at the horizon began to glow crimson, he muttered—

“Ending Number 5, is it.”

Dina couldn’t tell whether that was a good outcome or a bad one.

Like a machine waiting for its next command, she lowered her head quietly and awaited his words.

After a pause, he spoke, as if weighing his options—

“Contact Agent No. 3 via direct line. Request the Holy Sword from Australia through the Department of State. We cannot allow the senile old man to cross the dimensional gate.”

“But... Agent No. 3 is currently monitoring Demerond—”

Dina tried to object, but he cut her off coldly.

“The big-eared one is no fool.”

“...”

“The Revolutionary Faction barely has time to measure the Marquis and the Empire. They’re not free enough to meddle in matters like th—”

He stopped mid-sentence and stared intently at the horizon.

Was it because the sky bloomed with countless shards of ice, visible even from this distance?

No—it was because of the massive raven flying toward those shards of ice. He’d seen its back.

“...What is that?”

Dina narrowed her eyes, seeing the same thing he did. Dangling from the raven’s talons was a man she recognized.

The Vice Commander of the Imperial Knights? Why the hell is he there? Wasn’t he just fighting with that guy?

Before Dina could voice the question, they vanished past the horizon.

Panicked, she reached for her radio—but Jeon Yongseop’s hand stopped her.

“No. Leave them.”

“What? But... the notebook—”

“Enough.”

“...”

“The primary objective has been achieved. Erase all traces and withdraw from here. And... tell Agent No. 2 that she’ll need a proper explanation.”

“...Understood.”

No objections came. The moment she saluted, Jeon Yongseop’s body went limp and collapsed.

His fallen body twitched in pain. Between the injury and the possession, he’d probably need a month of hospitalization to recover from the aftermath.

Clicking her tongue, Scarlett gently repositioned her pitiful superior and reached for her radio to call in the waiting units.

But before she could speak, one of the subordinates beat her to it.

[This is Gamma. We’ve spotted a bike approaching from the southwest road.]

A bike?

She turned her head—and sure enough, an expensive-looking motorcycle was racing toward the outskirts.

[Orders?]

The sniper team waiting beyond the comms asked calmly.

Scarlett stared at the bike for a moment, then answered flatly.

“Let it through.”

[Are you sure? Both women riding it are superhumans.]

“I said let them through. The mission’s over. We’re... pulling out.”

[...Copy that.]

Scarlett shut off the radio and frowned as she watched the bike fade into the distance.

The woman riding the motorcycle—

Her body still throbbed faintly where that woman had struck her in the psychic realm.

“...Looks like a fucking diner lady or something.”

****

The Commander opened his eyes.

He could’ve sworn he’d just been on a battlefield—but the sky above was strangely clear.

Was it a nightmare? Or maybe another dementia episode?

As he fumbled through his fractured memory, a chilly breeze brushed across his skin.

“Is it winter already...”

He wasn’t expecting an answer, but—as always—Sancho replied.

“Winter’s still a ways off, sir.”

“Then why is it so damn cold?”

“Old men tend to feel the cold more, don’t they? I suppose you really are old now, Commander.”

The Commander chuckled and turned his head.

In his now-clear eyes, he saw the Vice Commander seated beside him—and, off in the distance, a young man getting pecked on the head by a raven.

“Looks like something happened.”

“Nothing serious.”

“Funny, you look like hell.”

As he said, the Vice Commander looked no different than he had during the war.

His clothes were shredded, and his face was smeared with soot.

After staring at him a moment, the Commander asked—

“...Did I kill anyone?”

“No, sir. You didn’t kill a single—”

Sancho had been lying without hesitation, but when he saw the desperate look on the Commander’s face, he stopped.

And after a long breath, he answered truthfully.

“...A few mafia goons who came in guns blazing got caught in the crossfire.”

“Civilians?”

“No civilians, sir. Property damage, sure... but insurance will probably cover that.”

With that, Sancho fell silent—and so did the Commander.

A calm stillness.

A cold wind brushed past them both, and just as the breeze began to carry the Commander’s breath with it—

Sancho spoke first.

“Don’t go saying your last words just yet.”

“...How is it that you know me so well?”

“I’ve served under you for decades now, Commander. If even a mutt at a village school can recite poetry after three years, how could I not know how you think?”

Hearing that, the Commander let out a quiet chuckle.

“That’s your problem, Sancho.”

“My problem, sir?”

“You act like you’re not from Earth most of the time, but the moment there’s a mood to set, you casually drop Earth proverbs like it’s second nature. Do you have any idea how much trouble the Saint and I have gone through pretending not to notice?”

“...”

The Commander’s gaze toward Sancho softened—like he was staring somewhere between the past and the present.

“But still... I’m glad. Thanks to you, I learned that Earthlings aren’t monsters. They’re just people—like us.”

“...”

Sancho reached out and gently grasped the Commander’s hand.

The once-powerful hand had grown cold.

“I think I’m lucky... that it ends like this.”

“...It’s not your time yet, sir.”

“Who gets to go when they want to? You just go when it’s time.”

“...Commander...”

Was that a choke in his voice? Sancho ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ couldn’t bring himself to say anything else. The Commander could feel the tremble in his grip.

“Sancho.”

“...Yes, Commander.”

“Was I a good commander?”

“Yes.”

“A good knight?”

“...Yes.”

“And... a good friend?”

“You were the best friend I’ve ever had—in this world, and in any other I’ve ever known.”

“...Then that’s enough.”

The Commander used all the strength he had left to curl his lips into a smile.

If they cried together, it would only double the tears.

“My friend... I’ll go on ahead to join our comrades. You... take your time getting there.”

He had wanted to leave something more comforting behind. But that was all he managed for his final words.

He closed his eyes, quietly realizing how poor he was at expressing himself.

There was the faint sound of brakes screeching in the distance.

But the Commander’s consciousness had already slipped into darkness.

****

Like most people, the Commander found death unfamiliar.

His vision was filled with nothing but darkness. His ears could only hear a dull, numbing silence.

His powerless body no longer felt the cold—but something colder than cold, something hollow, drifted through his soul.

So this is death? This darkness—is this what death really looks like?

He hadn’t been expecting pearly gates or a river to the afterlife, but still... the disappointment crept in.

Even so, standing still seemed pointless.

So the Commander wandered aimlessly through the unfamiliar dark.

Fortunately, the wandering didn’t last long.

Because beyond the void, he saw a familiar face.

“...Saint?”

There was a question mark in his voice.

Understandably so—because something about the Saint in the darkness was... off.

That almost torn-apart smile, those crescent-shaped eyes, and that voice—so filled with joy.

“Ah, Commander! You’ve finally arrived!”

“...Saint, why are you here?”

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

“...For me?”

The Commander couldn’t hide his surprise.

Why would she be waiting—for him, of all people?

The Saint laughed gently and answered.

“Yes. It was such a long wait. But you’re here at last.”

“...”

“You haven’t forgotten the vow you made to me and to Him, have you?”

The Commander lowered his head, mistaking her words for reproach over a vow he failed to keep.

But the Saint only beamed and stepped closer, patting him warmly on the shoulder.

“So you haven’t forgotten. Well done. You did very well.”

“...Saint... with all due respect... I didn’t keep the vow.”

He knelt, as a knight, and begged for forgiveness.

“I’m sorry.”

He was prepared to endure her curse, even if she spat hatred at him.

But the Saint did no such thing.

Instead, she gently helped him up.

“What are you saying? A tree struck by lightning doesn’t always die, and a bird that’s fallen can still take flight again. You still have many chances left to fulfill your vow.”

“...What do you—”

—mean? I’m already dead— was what he meant to say, but the words never made it out.

Because in the very next moment, his consciousness began to dissolve from the darkness.

“Ah... it’s already time...”

The Saint looked startled as she stared at his fading figure. She grabbed his arm—the part of him that hadn’t yet vanished—and spoke quickly.

“Commander! Please... tell him that I loved him very much. And that I still do.”

Those desperate words, spoken in the Saint’s trembling voice, were the last thing he heard—

—before the Commander opened his eyes.