An Old Man Named Fenrir

At this moment, I stand in a place that feels entirely foreign to me. A space that looks and feels like a fantasy tale, like a dream one would find in a storybook. The room shines as brightly as the morning sun over a field of blooming sunflowers, exuding a warmth that soothes grieving and sorrowful souls with its light.

This place is covered by a sky-blue ceiling adorned with white clouds. Not just the ceiling—everywhere my eyes wander, the expanse of blue sky and white clouds stretches endlessly. The clouds drift calmly across the blue expanse. Yet, the peculiar part is that there is no sun in the sky to explain the light filling the room. Where, then, does this radiance come from?

As I take a step forward, a soft and tranquil ripple of water reaches my ears. When I look down at my feet, I see a view just as astonishing beneath me. My feet are standing on the water's surface, not sinking into its depths. The water reflects only my shadow, the blue sky, and the white clouds above. Its bottom is unseen, lost in endless mystery.

What kind of place is this?

From the distance, I notice a lone figure—a man sitting on a long bench. The bench is a simple wooden one, the kind often found in parks. Amid this seemingly infinite and fantastical room, the bench stands out as the only identifiable object, as if deliberately placed there for anyone who seeks to enjoy the serene atmosphere of this endless realm.

I start to walk toward the man sitting on the bench.

As my steps close the distance, a gentle breeze brushes against me, cool and soothing. It feels as though the wind is welcoming me with its caress, softly saying, "Welcome." Occasionally, my hair dances with the breeze, swaying and twirling in its playful touch.

The closer I get, the clearer the man on the bench becomes.

He is an elderly man, seemingly around seventy years old. His face is adorned with a thick blackish-brown mustache and beard, while his long dark hair carries streaks of blood-red. The crimson streaks appear striking against the deep black, glowing vividly as though illuminated by an inner flame.

I now stand right beside him.

"Excuse me, sir. Am I disturbing you?"

I ask gently and politely, my voice light as I speak to the elderly man before me. He turns his head toward me, and I catch a glimpse of his glowing red irises surrounded by the pitch black of his sclera. Ordinarily, I might have been startled or even frightened by such unusual eyes. However, his calm demeanor and serene expression strangely put me at ease. Any fear or hesitation vanishes in an instant, replaced by the warmth of his gentle smile.

"Elena-san... I've been waiting for your arrival for quite some time."

"You know me, sir?"

I am stunned when the elderly man suddenly greets me by name. How could he possibly know who I am?

He chuckles softly and begins to speak,

"Yes, of course. This old man has a vast knowledge of many things, enough to be well-acquainted with you, Elena-san."

Seeing the confusion etched on my face, he simply pats the empty space on the other side of the bench, gesturing for me to sit beside him.

"Come here, young lady. Sit by this old man's side. I want to share a story with you—a story that may seem dull, but please, listen to it carefully."

He gazes at me with warm red eyes. Slowly, I step closer and sit beside the enigmatic elderly man. As I meet his gaze from up close, I notice clearly the elongated pupils within his fiery red irises. The shape of his pupils reminds me of the distinctive eyes of a direwolf.

Who is this old man really? Could he truly be human?

"Are you afraid of me, young lady?"

"A little..."

He laughs heartily, the sound light and joyous, at my candid response.

"You're quite honest, young lady. But don't worry, this old man simply wishes to share a story as a way of thanking you."

"A thank you? What have I done to earn your gratitude, sir? Isn't this our first meeting?"

Upon hearing my question, the elderly man beside me only offers a faint, ambiguous smile in response.

"Yes, this is our first meeting. But I have known you for a long time. Our encounter here is like a destined event written in the heavens."

"Destiny... In that case, may I first know your name, sir?"

I ask him, perplexed by the meaning of the 'destiny' behind our meeting.

"My name is Fenrir."

Fenrir—a peculiar name for a human, as it is the title of a mythical beast from northern legends. Upon hearing his name, the growing strangeness I feel becomes ever more overwhelming. One part of me begins to suspect that this elderly man might truly be the Fenrir of northern myth, while another side of me fiercely denies such a notion as absurd.

"Then why are you here alone, Fenrir-sama?"

"To meet and talk with you."

"What is it that you wish to discuss with me, Fenrir-sama?"

"Young lady, what are your thoughts on the swordsman you summoned from another world?"

I am utterly shocked by Fenrir-sama's question. How does he know about Ryuji-san?

"How do you..."

"Are you perhaps puzzled as to how this old man knows about that? Didn't I tell you before that I am a man with extensive knowledge, one who knows almost everything about you?"

His words only serve to deepen the chaos in my mind, as I struggle to grasp just who this person sitting beside me is and how he seems to know so much about me.

"Now, young lady, could you answer this old man's earlier question?"

His voice brings me back to focus, pulling me out of my whirlwind of thoughts.

"Of course... To me, Ryuji-san is a hero who saved my village. A strange man whose eyes sometimes reflect profound loneliness. A man whose gaze has, on occasion, filled me with concern and unease, for within them lies a glimmer of hatred and vengeance—emotions that seem to drag him toward darkness and bloodlust. Yet, despite this, I feel an overwhelming desire to stay by his side, to keep him from sinking into that darkness."

Fenrir-sama listens intently to my words. Then, after a moment, he speaks,

"I see... In that case, this old man shall begin telling you his life story. A tragedy of existence, a bitter tale that carved wounds into my heart, leaving empty holes that can never be filled. A sorrowful account of the life of an old man who has lived far too long, burdened by pain and despair..."

Then, Fenrir-sama begins his tale.

When he was a child, he was nothing but a mischievous boy—a delinquent who survived by stealing and taking whatever he could lay his hands on. For him, it was the only way to stay alive, as life was often cruel and indifferent toward the weak and powerless.

But then, he met that man—a man who, for the first time, looked at him with gentleness and compassion. To a boy who had known nothing but hardship, that gaze was both alien and miraculous. The man extended his hand to the delinquent child named Fenrir.

From then on, Fenrir began living alongside that man—a man who, he tells me, was never named in his story.

That man was a lord, the ruler of a certain territory, tasked with maintaining peace and harmony within his lands. He carried out his duties with wisdom, balancing kindness with firmness and justice with mercy. The lord was adored, respected, and loved by the people he governed.

This benevolent lord took young Fenrir under his wing. He taught him the meaning of wisdom. He shared his knowledge of the world and life. He taught patience, compassion, and how kindness and strength could coexist.

The lord passed on all his wisdom to the once-troublesome boy. Over time, the delinquent became a steadfast companion and devoted servant to the lord. Fenrir walked beside him, protecting and accompanying him wherever he went. He became the lord's guard and loyal protector.

But then, tragedy struck that harmonious life.

One day, the lord's eyes were consumed by darkness. His heart became tainted and corrupted by shadows born of hatred and anger. That darkness transformed the once-compassionate lord into something unrecognizable—a harbinger of chaos, bringing tragedy, suffering, and death to his people.

Unable to bear witnessing this descent, the boy who had grown into a young man made a harrowing decision. To save the heart of the man who had nurtured him, Fenrir used his own two hands to pierce the lord's heart. His body trembled, wracked with pain and sorrow, as the lifeless form of the man he revered and loved fell into his arms.

As the lord's life faded, the darkness in his eyes gave way, revealing their original clarity and purity.

"I am sorry, Fenrir," the lord whispered, his voice weak and faltering, "for burdening you with such pain. And thank you… thank you for saving me from the shadows that consumed my heart."

These were his final words before closing his eyes for the last time. Fenrir wept bitterly, his cries echoing through the empty halls as he cradled the lifeless body of the man who had raised him with warmth and care. The man who had taught him to live and love.

Following that heartbreaking event, the grieving Fenrir disappeared into seclusion, withdrawing into the dark forests somewhere in the northern continent.

That was the story of Fenrir-sama's life—a tale of tragedy that still lingered heavily in his heart. I could see the sadness, the longing, and the guilt reflected in his crimson eyes. I didn't know what to say after hearing his story. What could I say to ease the pain etched into his expression?

But suddenly, Fenrir-sama turned toward me, his gaze piercing but kind, and asked,

"Now, Elena-san… what will you do if the man who walks beside you succumbs to darkness?"

This was the question he posed after recounting his tale.

What will I choose if one day Ryuji-san falls into the same darkness as the lord who raised Fenrir-sama? What would I do if that really happen? Because, ultimately, I am the one who summoned Ryuji-san into this world.

Therefore, the decisions and path Ryuji-san takes are my responsibility.