A Night of Vigil
Anastasia and Julius have retired. After our meeting, we got what we wanted: an alliance to defeat the White Whale and assurance that they're not part of the Witch's Cult.
What I didn't expect was the magnitude of the information Anastasia provided.
"What do you think?" I glance at Marco, who's been looking more worried than usual since then.
Felix looks at both of us, not fully understanding, and sits in silence, respecting our space.
I'll have to explain it to him in detail later; I can't leave him in the dark.
Luckily, Wilhelm has understood it perfectly.
The room feels heavy. What we discussed was certainly different from what Marco and I expected. Somehow, I understand Anastasia's reluctance and that sigh of relief she let out.
"If what that diary says is true, then this world will be destroyed at some point in the coming years." I close my eyes, trying to contain the fear gripping my heart.
If that really happened in the past, then what the Cult is doing now will lead to a catastrophe worse than the Witch of Envy.
"That only reinforces what we must do—have absolute control and also seize the other three kingdoms." Marco's statement would normally sound crazy, but if what the diary says is true, then we must proceed that way.
"I think making Anastasia the General Consul of Kararagi shouldn't be impossible." Marco looks at me after my statement, and upon seeing me, understands it's a necessary move.
Anastasia's merchant guild is quite large; her only problem is her political power. If we first make her one of the four mayors, then we can quickly fix that.
If we grant her the authority over our inventions to do business in Kararagi, we could make her the general by buying the position with money, but first, we must overcome the obstacle in front of us.
"We must face the White Whale," Marco says, and Wilhelm immediately exudes bloodlust.
We all look at him, but none of us disapprove of his feelings. It killed the most important person in his life; it's only natural.
Even so, Wilhelm bows, sincerely apologizing.
"We'll give you the final blow, so you can go greet your beloved," Marco's words make Wilhelm nod. "I'd love to meet her."
Tomorrow we'll hold a banquet to deal with this, but the current process is in Anastasia's hands. We've already prepared for weeks in advance, with cannons mounted, knights armed, and ready.
No one is without a weapon or armor, and we also have the grenades Marco invented. We have everything, yet we're still worried. I can sense it just by looking at him.
Marco is hiding something from me.
It's as clear as day; I can see it—it's something related to me.
"Shall we go?" I ask Marco, and he nods.
Felix heads off with Wilhelm to check on the knights. Marco and I walk towards the balcony. We promised to do this after all, and that's what we'll do.
We'll take a moment before getting back to work.
We both sit down, and one of the maids leaves us a bottle of wine and some glasses. When she leaves, I notice Marco's gaze lost in the moonlight. I love this balcony when the moon shines brightly, the garden's flowers look truly beautiful.
I'm entranced by them, seeing a glow I've never noticed before. Somehow, I feel there's meaning in what I'm seeing. The problem is the person beside me won't let me focus.
Looking at me with a sincere smile, the person in front of me is seeking something from me again. He's always trying something with me; honestly, if it weren't for the books I've read, I wouldn't recognize certain things.
Even so, I struggle to accept it.
"What are you staring at?" I ask, and he half-closes his eyes.
"I'm engraving in my mind the beautiful glow of the moon in your eyes." Marco pours me a glass of wine, swirling it to release its aromas. "I'm engraving your beautiful expression, lost in the scenery."
I look away, crossing my arms. I can't understand it, I really can't. The man in front of me might be someone I deeply admire, but he's still a swindler.
I won't let him catch me.
"So many things? Yet you're still hiding things from me; your flattery won't stop me from reading you like an open book, Marco Luz." I stare at him firmly, full of determination.
Marco opens his eyes, smiling and sighing in defeat.
He knows it, and yet he tries to hide it. I can see the shift in his emotions—I can see he's not really upset that I know. He's sad and happy at the same time.
Marco takes a sip of his wine.
"There's something about the future I haven't told you." Marco's hands wring together as he looks at the moon, his gaze carrying a burden he can't bear alone.
I look at his hands for a second, trembling, unable to stop moving. 'I guess some things never change.' I reach out and take his hands. Tonight, under the beautiful sky, beneath the stars and the great moon, I want to share a little more of this person's pain and fears.
He's different from Fourier; he's even different from the person I thought I had idealized.
He suffers and moves forward, yes, but he also suffers and falls. He's a normal person, and that's why I can't understand what draws me to him. What the books describe, what all the stories say.
"Crusch, your life is in danger." I squeeze his hands involuntarily, looking at him in profile, unsure of what he means. "According to the notes about the future, you'll fall under the influence of a Sin Archbishop, Ley Batenkaitos, the Archbishop of Gluttony."
Marco starts explaining to me the story, after we defeat the Whale, we choose a specific route to head to the capital. We were intercepted, and I lost all my memories. I can understand why, but I can't understand why he didn't tell me earlier.
We won't use the routes he mentioned, but even so, it would have been relevant to know.
"I didn't tell you because I wanted to change it on my own. That's why I changed everything—the routes, we made the alliance with Anastasia, we'll bring Emilia to fight. I even wanted to bring Reinhard, but that's impossible for now." Marco turns his head, looking directly into my eyes. It's not emptiness I see in his gaze, it's just the fear of the future. The pain of the fear he carries within. "Sometimes, trying to change the future makes the future happen, so I wanted to leave as few causalities as possible. Today, I believe the opposite."
If my fate is written and Marco has tried to change it, then maybe something will work. If not, I'll disappear from this world.
I look at Marco, and somehow, I feel like I can see him more clearly.
I feel like my heart is trying to tell me something now that my life is in danger.
"I promise I'll save you." I shook my head, rejecting his words. "I can't accept being saved unconditionally, but I would like you to help me."
He knows—my pride is strong.
That's something that will never change about me, no matter how much I learn or do things I've never done before. I will always be Crusch Karsten, daughter of the best parents imaginable.
'Though, I haven't seen my father much. Maybe I'm not such a good daughter.' When all of this is over, I'll go visit him. He likes hearty dishes, so I'll ask Marco to come with me and we'll prepare something special for him.
We'll be able to talk and chat about trivial things.
My life is hanging by a thread, but somehow, the feeling of his hands holding mine tightly gives me such a sense of security that I can't help but feel strong.
Somehow, seeing him worry about me like this warms my heart.
If Felix or Wilhelm found out, they'd probably stress about it and try to stop me, only to accept that I'm not going to change. If my father knew, he wouldn't let me go. And if Fourier found out, he'd just keep smiling to stop me from worrying.
But not this person. This person wants us to find a solution together.
"Why are you smiling?" Marco looks at me incredulously, but right now, I can't help but smile.
I didn't realize it, but somehow his way of being so out of place throws me off as well. I've changed, I admit it, but instead of feeling weak because of that change, I feel more alive. I watch him, his worried and slightly downcast expression, noticing that his features are more handsome than before.
'Was he always this attractive?'
"You look cute when you worry like that." I smile, and he stares at me, his cheeks turning slightly red, making me start to laugh.
He flirts without any problem, but when someone says something back, he blushes. We're in this together, so I'm not afraid.
If he feels weak, I will feel strong; if I ever feel weak, I know he'll be strong.
"Well, it only happens with you." He closes his eyes, sighing in defeat. He scratches his cheek slightly and then looks me in the eye. "I think I have a plan, but it could go either really well or really badly. Do you trust me?"
I immediately shake my head, pulling my hands away and taking a sip of wine. I feel its warmth travel over my palate and down my throat. Marco Luz is a great liar, but he's also an honest man.
When he cares about someone, he does it with all his heart.
"I suppose, even though you're a shameless scammer, you're worthy of my trust." I glance at him sideways, taking another sip of the delicious red wine.
'Are you two a couple?' I put my glass down on the table, closing my eyes and clenching my hands tightly. I know we're in sync every now and then, but for her to think that about us really threw me off.
I have a goal to achieve; enjoying his company is unrelated to being a couple. Someone like me can't love. I can feel that Marco and I are destined to walk together, that we understand each other, and in his support, I find strength.
But that's different.
"Helena is releasing a new book." Marco looks at me with a smile, and I smile back at him. "She says it's going to be a mystery, stepping away from her usual romance novels, but I think in the end, it'll still have some romance."
Helena is a romance fanatic; most of her works revolve around it. I'm even surprised that someone who enjoys romance so much is still single. Someone like her would make a good match with someone as vibrant as Marco.
'No,' somehow, I reject those words with all my might.
"Now that I think about it, the book you gave me when I was..." Marco understands immediately, looking outside. He gets up with his glass of wine and leans on the balcony railing.
I watch him, and my body decides to do the same. I pick up my wine glass and stand beside him. From so close, I can feel the wind around him, as serene and warm as always. The winds around here are usually unpredictable, but the current calm brings back memories.
'I wish we could be like this more often.' I think involuntarily, quickly shaking my head to push those thoughts away.
I have a duty to fulfill.
"It was incredible. I really admired the baker." It seems we're in sync with the same thing.
The story was quite simple: a baker gets frustrated because his bread has no flavor. He followed the recipe, but no matter what he did, his bread, though it looked perfect on the outside, lacked taste.
Desperate, he fought with all his might to find a reason.
"When he failed the first time, I thought about when you started teaching me fencing, and I couldn't maintain a certain stance."
"Haha, that's right. I thought you were smart, but it was tough for you to get it." Marco's talent with swords is less than expected; he shines with daggers, but swords are complex for him.
Even so, he has reached a good level, something acceptable for defending himself with just swords.
Learning to use all weapons to some extent is a first step to knowing how to defend oneself in this world. Marco isn't lazy, and he's worked hard at it.
"Luckily, I had a great teacher." Marco grins widely, raising his glass to mine. "Let's toast to that."
We clink our glasses and drink more wine. We just enjoy the moment, our experiences. Thanks to Helena's books, I've learned a lot, but more than learning from the text, I've learned from how I feel.
When the baker starts traveling the world, searching for a way to add flavor to his bread, he goes everywhere, tasting all kinds of flavors that, no matter how similar, feel different to him.
He seeks out new experiences, thinking that's the right way to give his bread flavor.
He searches the world, exploring every corner.
But he can't give it flavor.
"It reminded me of you." I look at Marco, and he sighs, gazing up at the moon.
"Certainly."
He then finds himself in a church, complaining to God for not being able to give his bread flavor. He goes to the priest and asks if he's cursed or if God is punishing him for something he didn't do.
The priest, wise and calm, replies:
'God doesn't curse anyone, and no one can curse you; the only one who can curse you is yourself.'
Even though it's set in Gusteko, where people believe in a particular god, I can feel that they convey good teachings. I don't know much, but the concept, even though I don't like it, shows great depth.
"I've always thought that God doesn't need to exist, and it's not about belittling oneself either." Marco looks up at the sky with a calm expression. "It's not about believing in God itself, but believing in something that drives you, that motivates you to move forward and makes you happy. In my world, they had a saying: Faith can move mountains."
The baker stormed out, thinking I was just making excuses. He sought out a counterpart, a sorcerer, someone who could place and remove curses.
'I'm cursed, cure me.'
"I felt the same when I told myself I was a monster." Marco chuckled softly, extending his hand, brushing against my thigh.
I glanced down, noticing his outstretched hand.
"Why are you so fascinated by my hands?" I couldn't hold back my curiosity anymore. Honestly, if neither of us has romantic intentions, I don't see a reason for this.
Marco smiled, took another sip of wine, moved away to pour more for both of us, and then extended his hand again toward me.
"I like the security your hand conveys." My eyes widen, realizing it was similar to what I had thought. The feeling of being in tune with someone, the warm sensation of existing in a world where someone understands you.
It's different from Félix, my father, Wilhelm, Reinhard, or Julius. It's just a warmer, more peaceful feeling.
I can't put it into words; I suppose I should read more to understand it.
Without saying anything, I slowly reached out my hand. When Marco felt it, he intertwined his fingers with mine. Both of us, standing on the balcony, with the weight of destiny on our shoulders, held onto each other.
On such a warm night, the only thing I don't want to do is sleep.
"The sorcerer's response sent chills down my spine," Marco says, and I could understand why.
The sorcerer gave him several things to drink, performed rituals, and quickly, the man said he felt better, that he believed he could bring flavor to his dishes again. The sorcerer gave him ingredients to bake bread.
He took them home and made a loaf.
He tasted it, and for the first time, he felt it had some flavor. His eyes filled with joy as he offered it to the sorcerer.
'The bread is tasteless; it has no flavor.' The sorcerer's words angered the baker, who tried to attack him. The sorcerer dodged and handed the bread back to him.
Upon tasting it again, he realized it was indeed flavorless.
'Where did you go wrong?' he asked, but the sorcerer shoved him out of his house and, before closing the door, said,
'I didn't fail, but you failed yourself. You're cured, but you don't want to be healed.'
The baker stormed out and returned to his bakery, noticing a little girl selling bread on a sidewalk. Annoyed, the baker approached the girl to criticize her bread. He tasted it, and as soon as he did, tears began to stream down his face.
The girl looked at him, surprised, and thanked him for enjoying her bread.
'How do you make it taste so good?' the baker asked, but the girl didn't know how to respond.
She didn't use quality ingredients; in fact, the bread wasn't even soft because of that. It was bread made by a novice, with burnt edges and half-raw parts. But even so, it was the most delicious bread he had ever tasted.
The baker took the girl to his shop, explaining how to bake bread. She followed the same recipe the baker had used every day of his life. When they finished, he saw that the loaves looked exactly the same, so he decided to taste hers.
'Did you add something without me noticing?' The baker still couldn't believe how his own recipe could taste so good.
The girl's bread was beautiful, both inside and out. Using quality tools and ingredients made it easier for her to achieve the beauty she desired. Both loaves were identical, but they tasted different.
The girl shook her head, and the baker continued to rack his brain, unable to understand what was wrong.
'Sir, why do you bake bread?' That question made me think back to when I was in my world; it was incredible. The kind of conversations we have, sharing our experiences around something we both care about, is truly gratifying.
'I had to stop reading to think, I understand you.' We both looked up at the sky, the only contact between us was our hands. Yet, in this solemn moment, I felt it was just the two of us.
The baker said he was enthusiastic about making bread and wanted to sell it for others to enjoy. She said she bakes bread to feed her family, and that his reason was also beautiful.
Hearing the girl's story, he thought her bond with her family was deep, and, remembering how unhappy he had been with his family, he decided to do something he hadn't considered before.
For the first time in many years, he sent a letter to his father.
'Father, are you happy?'
That question made him nervous. Even with the girl by his side, the baker, now an adult, reverted to being a child for a moment. And many of us are like that; before our parents, we'll never be wise enough.
No matter how much we grow, before our parents, we'll always be children. Even if they see us as adults, we'll always be children.
'Happy as a clam!' The father's response surprised the baker. His father had always been an unhappy man who constantly complained about life. The baker asked his father what made him so happy, and his father's answer squeezed my heart tightly.
'My son remembered he has a father!' If it weren't for the situation, I would go to him right now.
I've always kept things cordial with my father; I've always been a duchess. I want to see him, but I want to be Crusch Karsten when I do.
I want to talk to him, know his sorrows and joys. My father isn't perfect, and my mother wasn't perfect either.
But they're mine, they're my parents.
There are many bad parents, and that's something I know very well. Even so, there will always be someone to call father, or someone to call mother.
"How are my folks doing in heaven?" Marco looked up at the sky, his eyes watery and his hand trembling.
I held him tighter, moved closer, and brushed our arms together. His parents are dead, so any regrets he has will stay with him for the rest of his life.
"They're waiting to see their son happy." My response was also for my beloved mother. I know there's much to do, but now I have a clearer path.
I'll do my duties and be happy doing them.
"Yeah..."
The baker went to a sorcerer, a priest, traveled all over the world. He saw every corner of the globe. Yet even a little girl could bring flavor to bread, while he was left with his tasteless loaves.
For the first time, he thought,
'Is it me that's the problem?'
In response to that question, the girl showed him one of the loaves he had baked, took a big bite, and smiled at him.
'It's delicious!' the girl exclaimed, urging him to taste it again, but he still found it tasteless."
'Stop lying!' he yells at the girl, but she calmly finishes her bread.
She looks at the man with a serene expression and, with a soft voice, asks, 'Are you ill?' The girl inquires if it's an issue with his taste, but he dismisses it, saying everything has flavor except for the bread he bakes.
The girl pauses, thinking for a moment, before telling the baker, 'Sir, my mother always told me something: When you look at a cloud and see it takes on one shape or another, don't just think about its shape; think about how that shape makes you feel.'
Her words struck me deeply, and Marco nods, admitting that he liked them too.
The girl then approaches the baker, who can't stop crying. 'Mr. Baker, you are neither cursed nor blessed. That doesn't matter; what you need is to give flavor to what's in your heart.'
"I always judged people for seeing the world differently than I do, but I was really wrong." I sigh, gazing at the beautiful plants in my garden. "Since then, I've started to notice how everything around me makes me feel."
The baker doesn't understand, but he begins to recall his journey. He had always focused on what was missing, trying to feel externally what he lacked inside. He looked outward, thinking about what he should create, but never about what it made him feel.
The baker desperately sought something only he could create. It's not about being perfect. It's not about controlling every aspect of your life. It's not about giving something flavor. "The taste of this bread will be the same as my feelings."
The baker tastes his bread and finally feels the flavor. The girl and the baker celebrate, and in gratitude, he provides housing and support for her family. Together, they open a new bakery.
"The Magic Bakery."
It didn't take long for the bakery to become famous. Throughout the kingdom, no one had ever encountered bread that changed flavor. People thought it was magic, but they soon realized the bread was simple bread without mana.
One day, an angry man goes to the bakery. He eats a piece of bread and says it tastes awful, making a scene. Everyone gathers around as he puts on a show. The baker, now with years of experience, calmly approaches.
'Sir, could you tell me about your day?'
The angry man starts to complain about how miserable his life is, recounting all the tragedies and situations that have overwhelmed him. The baker takes a bite of the bread, agreeing that it's indeed bitter and salty.
As they talk, the man unwittingly shares his life story, allowing everyone to hear his misfortunes. The baker tells the man that he can't fix his life, and the man, now calmer, nods in defeat.
The man is about to leave, but the baker stops him.
'I can't fix your life but let me change the taste of the bread.'
The baker tells him that a friend of his knows how to cure the pain in his leg, and that he knows someone who can fix the leaks in his house. And with that act, a chain reaction begins. The people who saw that this poor man just needed help start wanting to assist him.
"Sometimes, the first grain causes the others to fall. Or sometimes, that single grain of sand is enough to help someone," Marco says, looking up at the sky with a warm, contemplative smile. "If people knew the power they have to change the world, if everyone knew that their small action could trigger an avalanche, the world would be a better place."
I accept Marco's words, because that small act I did to help a rival brought this person into my life, just as it has changed thousands of lives.
People then continue helping him. Some tell him what he can do; others say they understand his emotions. Each person helps in diverse ways and to varying degrees.
Someone else tells him that their job has an opening and that he can start collaborating with them immediately.
No one judged the man for yelling or for complaining. The man never hurt anyone; he never complained about the bakery. His only complaint was that his bread tasted bad.
'Try the bread again, sir,' the baker says with a smile.
The man tastes the bread and opens his eyes, seeing that it now has a sweet flavor.
'Sir, your situation isn't fixed, but now there's hope in your heart. Others can give you that hope, but in the end, it's your decision whether to believe in it or not.'
The book then ends with these words.
"I don't give flavor to the bread, but you can. Your bread is still the same; the only thing that's changed is what's inside you." Marco squeezes my hand tightly, and as we both look ahead, I feel him start to tremble slightly.
It seems he's still afraid.
I hold him, looking forward with a smile. To get out of the emotional hole I'm in, I have to start changing my life. To change my life, I have to change how I see the world around me.
There are people who can't appreciate it, but that's only because of what they feel. I've experienced it myself. I realized that my body had gotten used to feeling that way, ignoring my surroundings.
Unintentionally, I had stopped my own growth.
After reading these books, I began to think about how everything I do makes me feel, how looking at the sky makes me feel. When something made me feel bad, I would sit down and meditate on it, examining the reasons.
Then I would start looking for trivial details and say what emotion they should make me feel.
I increased my workload, but I did it with pleasure, without neglecting myself, of course.
"We've changed a lot. Thanks to you, I've changed things I never thought needed changing." Just like bread, we'll have new flavors over time. Only we can decide which flavor to focus on.
If the bread ever tastes bitter to me, I'll think about what to do to make it not bitter. If I don't see a way out, then I'll accept it and keep looking for ways to make it better. No change is instant, so I'll just keep moving forward.
Marco looks at me intently, his eyes trembling and his lips slightly drawn. I hold his gaze, and we both feel each other's support.
"Crusch..." Marco smiles at me, and in that embarrassed smile, I can see his true self, the Marco Luz I've always liked to see.
Marco Luz who can move forward with a smile.
"Yes?"
I can see baker Luz.
"I like you."
I smile, seeing that he's really a trickster. I open my eyes slightly, looking into his trembling eyes with calm. I can't quite find the words to express my heart, but I know that all my thoughts have cleared.
I always thought it was just part of my duty, but I never realized that I have a duty to myself. Both duties are important, and thanks to a small action, the growth in me makes me feel powerful.
His poison seeped into my heart when I least expected it.
"Yes, I know."
Author's Note
The first part of Crusch's alternative story ends here. I wanted to refresh my mind with a condensed story, so I decided to do just that.
Well, this story also sheds some light on the lore of the work. I really wanted to focus on Marco and Crusch, centering on their daily lives. Unfortunately, fate didn't allow that.
As I mentioned before, we all change depending on what surrounds us.
Both Marcos is different, both Crusch are different. Everyone changes based on how they view the world around them.
Have you ever thought about whether the juice you have with lunch makes you happy?
If you have, congratulations, you've found daily happiness.
Few people think about these small joys; they focus on what they don't have or what would make them happy. And hey, that's perfectly fine because only by dreaming can you make your dreams come true.
But it's in the little things where happiness blossoms. The joy of a trip lasts only as long as the trip itself. Some people feel down after traveling, thinking they'll never be as happy again.
I've liked coffee for about two years now. I used to drink it to wake up, but I never really enjoyed it. One day, I sat by my window; I can recall it vividly.
It was nine in the morning; the sun was covered by clouds as white as cotton. The dew added an incredible freshness, and the whole atmosphere was lit in a beautiful pale blue.
I had never sat down to look at the landscape, but that day, I decided to do it.
I looked at the horizon, saw people walking, saw the world as it is, but at the same time, I didn't feel like I was part of it.
"How can I be a part of the world?" I asked myself that question several times, and you know, one can fit in anywhere if you set your mind to it.
But belonging is a different story.
I looked at my cup of coffee and thought about how serene I felt.
Since I realized that coffee made me somewhat happy, I started going to coffee shops, wanting to try a coffee while reading or writing for a while. Each coffee shop made me feel different, and each coffee tasted different.
I bought beans from one café, and they tasted different.
Obviously, it's because of the preparation method, but somehow the one I made tasted better. Not because it was homemade, but because I realized that when I made it, I was smiling.
I noticed the little things in life. I used to think that achieving a certain goal was what made me happy. Then I saw that the small things in life end up being a greatness in one's heart.
When I read Crusch's story, I clearly saw that it fit that concept.
That's partly why I was inspired to write the alternative story, and that's why she was the protagonist. There are many people like her, just as there are people who take it to the extreme like Marco.
And that's okay, the people who change are the wisest, the people who make mistakes are the ones who can help the most.
Those who make mistakes can teach others not. Those who change can help someone else change. Sometimes a small grain of sand in your heart can turn into an avalanche of grains of sand in others' heart's.
I don't know how old most of you are, but that's not important.
You are living your lives, facing situations you didn't expect. You've come out of some well, and others not so much.
But you've come out of them, and for that, let me congratulate you.
If you're reading this, I hope you start to notice the little things in life. Even Re:zero, the original work, shows this. It's the small changes that make something great.
YOU HAVE THE POWER TO CHANGE YOUR WORLD.
Just as you have the power to change others' worlds. When you accept that responsibility, when you see that the world is made up of both good and bad, when you realize that there is no good without bad, it is then that your world will start to change.
Even if you don't accept it, if you've read this far, that's enough for me.
I know that someday there will be something that makes you change, and even if you don't believe it, I've placed my grain of sand.
Thank you very much for reading. The next update will mark the beginning of a new arc in the original story.
I hope you've enjoyed this short story.
Until the next update.