I’m Alraune, a plant monster girl... but for some reason, my body had become a Dryades with blue vines.
It seemed I was seeing into Big Sister Dryades’s dreams. After absorbing her, the memories she held must have been awakened within me. I’d drifted off to sleep immediately after listening to Lady Dryades’s story, and it didn't take long to realize these visions were from fifty years ago. They matched the events involving the human Sage that the younger Lady Dryades had described.
Deep within the forest, Big Sister Dryades stood alone, facing a man who could only be the Hero of that era. He spoke to her with a look of intense sincerity.
“I’m well aware that we are different—human and spirit. Even so, I want you to come with me. I promise to make you happy for the rest of your life!”
W-Wait, was this a marriage proposal!?
Oh dear, what should I do? I felt a twinge of guilt, as if I were intruding on something private. To be honest, it was the first time I’d ever witnessed such a moment in person. I felt bad, but I was also incredibly curious!
The Hero presented a blue bouquet to her.
“I wonder how many times I have received these flowers from you now,” Big Sister Dryades murmured to herself.
It seemed the Hero had brought her flowers almost every day. Scenes of those quiet, daily moments flickered through my mind. Big Sister Dryades, who had initially been cold and dismissive as a Forest Spirit, had gradually found herself drawn to this persistent Hero. Before she knew it, they had formed a bond where they could truly open their hearts to each other.
“Very well. I shall dedicate my life to you.”
The two of them reached out, their bodies overlapping in an embrace. A love that transcended the boundaries of their races had finally blossomed.
────The scene shifted.
Now, Big Sister Dryades stood confronted by three people: the Hero, the Sage, and a female swordsman.
“Please, let me talk with you alone one more time,” the Hero pleaded, his face a mask of desperation.
“...I cannot trust you,” she replied.
But when the Hero offered a concession—“Then I will leave my sword behind. You’ll feel safe if I’m unarmed, won't you?”—she chose to believe him. She decided to have one last discussion with him, alone.
Big Sister Dryades teleported to the Sanctuary first to wait for him. However, to her horror, the Hero came charging through the Door of the Sanctuary with his sword drawn.
The blade gouged out her left eye. I realized then that the scar hidden beneath her eyepatch had been carved in that very moment.
“So the talk was a lie... your only goal was to kill me!”
Her vision went dark.
“What happened!?” she heard the Hero’s voice cry out.
Big Sister Dryades muttered coldly to herself, wondering how this man could act so surprised after attacking her. The loss of her eye caused something inside her to snap. The Hero’s sword had severed the chains of her sanity.
When she opened her remaining right eye, she saw the Hero approaching her slowly. He had removed his helmet and looked worried, but she was convinced it was a ruse to lower her guard before he struck again. She wasn't going to be fooled twice. Manifesting a poison blade, she drove it straight into his body.
The tables were turned.
As a dark smirk crossed her face, she noticed what the Hero was actually holding in his hands.
“There was a sword just a moment ago... so why...?”
In his grip, there was no sword—only a single blue flower.
The memory of his proposal overlapped with the blue flower before her. Betrayed by the person she loved most, a tidal wave of resentment toward all of humanity surged within her. A scorching hatred intensified, a desire to wipe out the human race entirely.
Yet, at the same time, a tiny ember of affection remained—a lonely part of her that didn't want to forget him. To keep her feelings from turning to ash, she scooped up the blue flower the Hero had dropped. She touched it delicately before tucking it into her hair.
The name of that flower was the forget-me-not.
In the language of flowers, it meant "True Love." It also carried the plea, "Please don't forget me."
The flowers Big Sister Dryades had used to brainwash humans were identical to this one. Perhaps she had chosen them as her Brainwashing Flowers because she simply couldn't bring herself to forget the Hero.
────────────────
I woke up. My consciousness was pulled from the world of dreams back into reality.
In those hazy memories of Big Sister Dryades, I saw one final image: her burying the Hero in a grave.
“So that’s what happened...”
It wasn't the younger Lady Dryades who had built the Hero’s Grave; it was the older sister. She had left the Hero’s Helmet there and fled the forest to join the Demon King’s Army. When she eventually tried to return, her sister had already erected a barrier. She hadn't laid eyes on that grave again until today, when she finally brought down the Sanctuary.
Suddenly, I realized I had still swallowed the Hero’s Helmet whole. I quickly spat it out of my lower mouth. That was a close call; if I’d left it any longer, I might have accidentally digested a holy relic.
As I sat there wondering if I should return the helmet to the grave, the Sapling Dryades spoke up.
“Mother, what is that?”
“This is a helmet, dear.”
“...Mother, please let me see it for a moment.”
The Sapling Dryades seemed fascinated by it. When I handed it over with a vine, she cradled it against her chest. “Somehow, holding this makes me feel at peace,” she whispered.
Perhaps even without her memories, Big Sister Dryades’s heart lived on within this little spirit.
“If you like it so much, I’ll give it to you.”
“Really, Mother? Thank you!”
I wasn't sure if it was technically mine to give, but since I’d been the one to retrieve it and Lady Dryades was nodding her consent, I figured it was fine. Seeing the Sapling Dryades so happy made me smile; I was just glad to see my "daughter" pleased.
Alright, I’ve decided. Big Sister Dryades’s name was Vergissmeinnicht, right? In that case, I'll call this little one Fair-chan!
As I patted Fair-chan on the head with a vine, I thought back to those memories. The scene where the Hero slashed Big Sister Dryades's eye felt wrong. At that point, the Hero should have already lost an arm to her, making him the One-armed Hero. Yet, the man who had charged through the door with a sword had appeared to have both arms.
The man she saw when she opened her eye again—the one holding the flower—was definitely the One-armed Hero. It happened so fast that I couldn't be certain, and Big Sister Dryades had been too confused at the time to remember clearly. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that the man who gouged out her eye was a fake. The real Hero had left his sword with the Sage and was only carrying a flower.
And that wasn't the only reason I suspected an impostor. Apparently, both the Hero and Big Sister Dryades had "visited" each other that morning to break up, but neither of them had any memory of doing so. It’s highly likely those visitors were fakes as well.
Then there was one more discrepancy.
“Lady Dryades, did you go to the Hero’s Tent that morning?”
Big Sister Dryades had seen her sister and the Hero kissing. But I couldn't imagine the younger Lady Dryades—the one who had specifically asked the Sage and the swordsman to look after her sister—doing something like that.
“I never had a romantic relationship with the Hero, nor did I ever meet him in private,” Lady Dryades confirmed. “The 'me' described in the Sage's account was almost certainly someone disguised as me.”
That settled it. There had been a fake Lady Dryades, too. Someone present that day could transform into the Hero, the older sister, and the younger sister. But was there really someone capable of disguises that transcended both gender and race? Even for a master of disguise, mimicking three different people in such a short window seemed impossible.
As I pondered this, I noticed a small shadow on the ground. I looked up to see a man flying through the air. He was a Dwarf with a barrel-like build and pure white hair, indicating his advanced age.
—Wait, why is a Dwarf flying?
That question vanished the moment I saw the little girl he was carrying.
“Little Witch!”
There was no response. She seemed to be asleep. Why was she with a Dwarf? She was supposed to be in the city chasing the Priest. Between the kidnapping and the flying Dwarf, nothing made sense.
The flying Dwarf looked down at us and muttered, “It seems Vergissmeinnicht has been dealt with. I’m impressed the Crimson Flower Princess had this much strength in her.”
He surveyed us with an air of clinical interest. He was suspicious beyond belief.
“Still, the Crimson Flower Princess looks remarkably like that Saint. I heard she died, but I suppose it’s logical to assume an Alraune mutation was born from absorbing her corpse.”
This Dwarf knew about me—about Iris. I didn't remember meeting him during my Saint Era, but he clearly recognized my face.
“Who... are you?” I asked.
“Me? Well... as a thank you for looking after this girl, I suppose a proper introduction is in order.”
As he spoke, the Dwarf’s body began to warp and distort. It looked just like the way the Little Witch transformed into her white bird form. In an instant, the Dwarf vanished, replaced by a slender woman.
The person floating in the sky and holding the Little Witch was no longer an old Dwarf, but a young woman with white hair. I’d been shocked when the white bird turned into the Little Witch, but this was on another level entirely.
I knew this woman’s face.
Not from my time as Saint Iris, and certainly not from my time as an Alraune. I knew her because I had seen her in a dream just moments ago.
The white-haired female swordsman who had stood alongside the young Sage in Big Sister Dryades's memories. The woman floating above us had the exact same face.