Epilogue

The three of them—Win, Calliope, and Rolant—walk through the manor, leaving the manor unseen. Win does not want anyone in the manor to know what he plans to do, but he does not think he can do it alone, and he does not want to either. Win takes them to the top of the hill overlooking the city. He looks down at the city once more, his heart no longer clouded. It feels so long ago now that he remembered his disdain. Rolant and Calliope look out to the city. They find it beautiful. Win kneels down on the hill. With a series of spells, Win builds a small, simple headstone. He leaves the stone unmarked, though as if by instinct he finds himself tracing his own name with his finger. Calliope notices the headstone first.

“What did you make, Win?”

“A grave. Or rather, a cenotaph.”

“A grave? To who?”

“Somebody important to me. I first met him on this hill. And he’s been a part of me ever since. I don’t know what became of his body, but I know he is dead. I’m sure he would prefer to rest in his homeland, but in a way, this is it as well. And I’m sure he would like to be overlooking such a fine city. And aside from that it’s not quite right to say I’m laying him to rest, either. I’m carrying all that he is inside my own soul. At this point, we’re one and the same. But in the end I’ll be remembered and he’ll be forgotten. There’s nobody here but me to remember him. So this is the least I can do. It’s the proof he existed, the proof he lived, the proof he is my own heart, the proof I remember him.”

“He sounds quite important to you, little lord. Was it your master?”

“No, Marcus has a grave of his own where it belongs, in the manor. But this isn’t for a man who belongs in a place like that.”

“Then who is it for, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“It’s hard to say. There’s no good word to express our relationship simply, none that I know at least. But I suppose…” Win decides he doesn’t need to be so mysterious. “It’s a grave for myself. But the man it’s for is not a noble, not of any kind. He’s so commonplace. But I suppose he’s a genius, by most people’s estimates. Though really he was just another fool. But yes, this grave is to myself, but it is not for Winfred Lufian. There’s no better way to explain it. We are the same person, with all the same memories, even if our lives share so few similarities. It’s the grave of a dead man, but it’s also to me, who still lives.”

“Another self? I’ve never heard of anything like that, little lord.”

“I doubt you would have. I’ve never heard somebody talk about it. It’s not even brought up in any of the books I’ve read. But he knew it well, and he took the news very poorly when he learned what had happened. He found it so displeasing that another like him would suffer in this world. But I know he’s softened up to the idea now. We’ve both grown fond of this world. Though that’s to be expected since we’re one and the same after all. When I talk about it like this, I wonder if this was worth the effort. I mean, I know he died. He’s dead, but he lives. I died, but I still live. He hasn’t ended yet, for I still go on. But I still wanted him to have a grave. Perhaps it’s for the day I die, so we both might be remembered in the end, at least in this small way.”

“Little lord, let us help.” Calliope follows after Rolant.

“Yes. Don’t you think it would be better for more people to remember him? At the very least, we can know his name.” Win smiles.

“I’ll tell you a little about him, then. He was my own age when he died, little more than a boy. He hated the world and he died to protect his sister. His name is Kosuke. And he is me. And I am him.” Win falls into a melancholic silence.

With another series of spells, Win creates a small stick of incense and lights the tip. He claps his hands together and says a prayer in his heart. A message he hopes will reach even beyond impossibility.

“I don’t know if you can hear this, but please don’t forget about me. Please talk to me every once in a while. I’ll try my best to listen this time. So tell me about your life, even the small things, even the boring things. It wasn’t pointless at all. It’s not pointless, so please never stop telling me about them. I’ll definitely listen this time. And no matter how long I live, I’ll never forget about you either. I’ll carry you in my heart, wherever I go. I’ll never stop thinking of you, not until my dying breath. I don’t know if this really makes up for it, but this time I’ll be a filial son and a good big brother. Even though I’m leaving them behind too now. But I’ll return to them. And hopefully, I can return to you too. No matter how far away I am, I want to come home to you, even just one more time. I want you to welcome me home, even just one more time. I won’t lock myself away this time. So… I hope you can recognize me when the time comes. And, well, I don’t know how to say this last thing… God is dead, God remains dead, but I live. I’m still alive. No matter how cruel the world is, I won’t let myself be overcome this time. I’ll be strong. I’ll find my own happiness. I’ll save lots more people. I’ll be a son and a brother you can be proud of… So… Mom, Dad, you don’t need to worry about me anymore. I’m enjoying life right now, so you don’t need to worry anymore. That’s all. If you really do end up hearing this, by some turn of good fate, then… I love you all, more than I can ever explain.”

Win stands back up and faces the sky. He watches the fragrant smoke of the incense float off into the heavens. This powerful man, this beautiful man, this kind man, turns away from the sky. He turns away from the grave, a monument to his own life, a testament to a world he no longer belongs to, a promise only he knows. He begins to walk away from the grave, a gentle smile on his face, tears flowing freely as they streak down. He takes a step towards the manor, the sunlight falling onto his face, illuminating his world, freeing himself from the shadow he once cast over his life. He descends the hill, his heart so full it’s about to burst.