Yuder had never thought of naming something as related to responsibility.

As he mulled over Kanna's words, he was suddenly drawn to the word “name” and recalled the man who had named him.

‘...’

Wondering about things that couldn’t be answered was a waste of time, nothing more, nothing less.

Even if Kishiar La Orga had felt something when he gave Yudrain the name, what did that even mean?

And yet.

Even knowing that, Yuder couldn’t resist the impulse that surged inside him and finally opened his mouth to ask.

“...Could it really be so typical?”

“Hmm?”

“The act of naming something makes you feel responsible.”

Kanna, who had been eagerly expanding her guess, tilted her head as if she had misspoken.

“Uh... I thought it was natural, but now that you say it, maybe it’s not? Well... The Sage probably thought the same way as I do, so wouldn’t that make it normal? Or, is there something strange about it?”

Yuder shook his head.

“No. It’s not about Nahan, I just started wondering if it’s the typical judgment. I’ve never had that experience.”

“Ah, really?! Didn’t you say you lived in the mountains? Didn’t you ever raise livestock? A dog or a cat? Or at least, didn’t you give a name to any of your things?”

Kanna, surprised, bombarded him with questions.

“Well, I raised livestock for a short time, but I didn’t name them. As for things... why would I name things?”

Yuder frowned, and Kanna burst out laughing.

“No, like... you know, people who give nicknames to their favorite items. We have people in our group who name their weapons. They put so much thought into it. Like Nahan’s weapon, ‘Star of Paradise.’ It’s clear he put a lot of effort into naming it!”

“...”

Yuder could somewhat understand now. There were indeed some people who named their weapons, but Yuder had never been interested in that, so he never paid it much mind.

“If you’re really curious about whether naming something makes you feel responsible or affectionate, why not name your sword? You’ve got both the sword and its scabbard, right? You clearly care about them.”

Yuder glanced down at the sword hanging securely at his waist. Both the sword and the scabbard had been gifts from Kishiar, and they were rare items that couldn’t be found anywhere else, so naturally, he took good care of them.

But... did that really show to others?

Yuder toyed with the hilt of the sword for a moment before shaking his head.

“No. I don’t think it’s necessary. But I understand what you mean.”

“Aw, I was curious whether you’d be good or bad at naming things, but that’s a shame!”

Yuder couldn’t understand why that would be considered something to regret.

‘Anyway... the conclusion seems to be that it’s typical.’

If it’s normal for the act of naming something to evoke such responsibility that it could lead to brainwashing, maybe the man who gave Yudrain his name felt the same way.

‘He did say he chose a good word and made it meaningful... Maybe there was something similar to that. Whether it was whim or not, I don’t know.’

Yuder had only recently learned that the name "Yudrain" was composed of old words. He’d heard that it literally meant "beginning and end," but it also had the grand meaning of "eternity." The strange feeling he’d gotten upon hearing that still lingered.

Eternity.

Why had that man chosen such a word? Was there truly some intention behind it?

After discussing the act of naming, Yuder was suddenly curious again about that particular question.

Just then, as if Kanna had been thinking the same thing, she spoke up.

“You know, thinking about it, Nahan’s obsession with wanting to escape to a world of only Awakeners might have something to do with the name ‘Star of Nagran.’ You know, they say that the name carries the wish of the person who gave it.”

Yuder’s eyes subtly twitched, but the movement was so slight that Kanna didn’t even notice.

“For example, my name, ‘Kanna,’ was given to me by my mother. She wanted me to grow up as beautifully and strongly as the Kanna flower. So maybe, when Nahan named it ‘Star of Nagran,’ he might have been the one who wanted to reach paradise more than anyone else.”

“...”

“Oh, of course, now the goal and the means have completely changed, and it seems like he’s lost his mind!”

After playfully saying this, Kanna turned to her silent friend and was taken aback.

“…Huh? Yuder? What’s wrong?”

Yuder, known for never showing emotion no matter what happened, had an oddly twisted expression on his face. The unfamiliar, intense emotion flickering beyond his dark eyes was so foreign that Kanna briefly wondered if she had said something wrong.

“It’s nothing.”

But just as quickly, the change disappeared. Yuder returned to his usual expression and quietly stared at Kanna.

“For now, let’s end this conversation. It’s too late.”

“Ah... Ah! You’re right! I lost track of time down here since the passage of time feels weird. Let’s go up and rest!”

Had she misread something? Or did something else cross his mind after hearing that?

Though she felt a bit concerned, Kanna decided not to force him to talk or react unusually if Yuder wasn’t ready to speak about it.

The two left the basement quietly. On the outside, it seemed as if nothing had happened.

However, after parting ways with Kanna, no one knew that Yuder’s thoughts on the old name lingered in his mind for a long time, still unresolved.

 

****

"...I'm back."

Yuder muttered softly as he opened the door to the temporary commander’s office. Since he ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) still shared a room with Kishiar, this was the only place he could return to.

However, Kishiar, whom Yuder had expected to be here first, was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Yuder noticed the brightly burning magical furnace, casting rainbow-colored lights, indicating that Kishiar had not been gone for long.

Yuder let out a long sigh, removed his outer coat, and hung it on the coat rack next to the furnace. He placed Enon’s interpretation and the book on the desk and sat in his chair, finally feeling a sharp ache in his eyes.

It was a symptom he occasionally experienced since gaining magical insight—one of the signs of extreme exhaustion.

‘It was a busy day.’

But once Kishiar returned, he would need to report on everything that had happened, and there were still tasks to handle. Rest was still far off.

‘It’s better to read Enon’s interpretation now. Kishiar reads much faster than I do, so he’ll go through it quickly, but not me...’

He reached for the interpretation, but his hand didn’t move quickly as usual. It felt strangely sluggish. It wasn’t because of fatigue. More accurately, it seemed his body was reacting because he simply had no motivation to read it, even though he knew he should.

Normally, if something had to be done, he would take care of it immediately, so this kind of hesitation was rare. But Yuder wasn’t surprised. It was something that had happened occasionally during his past life as the Cavalry Commander.

‘Back then, I would have drunk some alcohol to get through it, but now... I don’t have that option.’

He had come to realize that the sensation of being drunk wasn’t from the alcohol itself, but from the mild poison it contained. Even if someone offered him a drink now, he wouldn’t be able to drink more.

Yuder stared at the flickering furnace, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes.

The crackling sound seemed to calm his nerves, which had been on edge all day.

If he didn’t want to do what needed to be done and couldn’t do anything else, then the best thing was to shut down his senses and rest, even if just for a moment.

He planned to stay like this until Kishiar returned.

‘...’

But when his consciousness gradually drifted into a haze, images from long ago suddenly unfolded before him.

‘...It’s been a while. I thought it was an illusion, but to think it’s real...’

The gloomy, ash-gray Pelleta Castle. The extinguished furnace. Kishiar from that day.

Yuder looked down at the sword in his hand and clenched his teeth.