Isis-san had clearly read an incredible number of books, and our conversation on the subject grew quite lively.
It mostly consisted of me peppering her with questions while she answered, but she seemed to be enjoying herself as she explained everything in detail.
Along with history books and tales of adventure, this world possessed types of literature that didn't exist on Earth, such as grimoires. What piqued my interest most, however, was the existence of fantasy novels.
Since Hero Summoning was an established fact here, the concept of other worlds was a surprisingly familiar one. As a result, many authors in this world wrote stories imagining other realms—our world, or perhaps somewhere else entirely.
Finding novels about Otherworld Transfer in a world I had actually been transferred to felt more than a little surreal.
"The more I hear, the more fascinating your books sound. I’d love to read more of them."
"...Then... next time... I will bring... some for you."
"Really? I’m looking forward to that."
When Isis-san offered to lend me some, I replied a bit eagerly, my interest in this world's literature having been thoroughly piqued.
We continued chatting about books for a while, and just as the topic was settling down and I was leisurely sipping my now lukewarm black tea—I noticed it.
As she gazed at me, a faint glint appeared in Isis-san's eyes. A single tear escaped, trickling down her cheek before falling onto the table.
"I-Isis-san!? Is something wrong?"
"...Ah... I’m sorry... It’s just... I haven't been this happy... in such a very long time."
"..."
When I called out to her in concern, Isis-san whispered her reply in a small voice.
That single sentence seemed to harbor emotions so deep they were difficult to put into words, making me hesitate to give even a shallow response.
A brief silence followed, and then Isis-san began to speak about herself in fragments.
She had been born with an immense Magic Power of Death dwelling within her body, and she had been loathed by almost every living creature ever since.
In the beginning, she couldn't control it at all. Simply harboring a negative emotion would cause her power to harvest the lives of everything around her.
Neither animals nor plants—not even the hardiest of life forms in this world—could withstand her aura. In those days, she was a walking disaster, scattering death wherever she stepped.
There probably isn't a single person who doesn't harbor negative emotions in their daily life. Getting irritated at a trivial conversation, feeling restless when things don't go well, feeling lonely when all alone...
No matter how much Isis-san yearned for companionship, any creature she approached would only be consumed by terror before dying.
Over time, she gradually learned to control her Magic Power of Death, but she could never truly suppress it entirely.
However, during those long years, existences with power comparable to or exceeding hers finally appeared—such as the other members of the Six Kings. She was truly happy when she found people who could actually exchange words with her.
Ironically, it was the other Six Kings—her peers who possessed power equal to or greater than her own—who ended up driving her further into isolation.
She had viewed the other Kings as her equals, but as the years passed, they gathered subordinates and kin, becoming central figures in the Demon Realm. When the Friendship Treaty was signed between the Three Worlds, humankind and the gods began to gather around them too... leaving Isis-san as the only one left behind.
While Isis-san could only interact with those of equal or higher standing, the other Six Kings were building friendly relationships even with weak humans.
She was consumed by envy. Seeing the other Kings interact so freely with humankind was agonizing. Even their conversations, which she used to enjoy, became a source of unbearable loneliness whenever they mentioned the Human Realm. She had wept in private more times than she could count.
To her, I was the first human friend she’d ever had, and that fact made her unimaginably happy.
After finishing her story, I stood up from the sofa and moved to her side.
Then, as gently as possible, I touched her small, slightly trembling hand as if to wrap it in mine.
"...Kaito?"
"To be honest, I can’t claim to understand everything you’ve suffered through for thousands of years. I wouldn't dream of saying I know exactly how you feel."
"..."
"And I can’t say anything cool about fixing that loneliness for you, either. I don't think I have that kind of power."
To put it bluntly, I’m just an ordinary guy. I can't do things beyond my reach. All I can do for her as she trembles there is be myself and face her with absolute sincerity.
"The fact that I can even talk to you like this is only because of a strange power called Sympathy Magic. It’s a complete stroke of luck. But I believe this, too, is a form of fate... So please, come visit me whenever you’re lonely. I might not be able to do much, but I can always be here to talk."
"...!"
"You don't have to worry. I promise you right now: I will never fear you, and I will never turn you away."
"...!?!?"
I wasn't sure if I had put it into words well enough, but I felt like I had managed to convey my feelings.
The fact that I could withstand her Magic Power of Death was thanks to a power I had obtained by chance, but that power was still a part of me. There was no point in wondering what would have happened if I didn't have it. Instead, I would put it to good use for her sake.
Upon hearing my words, Isis-san looked down, her body trembling. A moment later, she lunged at me as if she had been propelled by a spring.
"I-Isis-san!?"
I felt her cool body and her soft weight against me as a floral scent wafted from her hair.
"...Kaito... I love you... I love you... I love you so much..."
"..."
I was startled by the sudden hug, but seeing her bury her face in my chest, her shoulders and voice shaking, I couldn't say a word.
She might be one of the Six Kings, one of the most powerful beings in existence, but she wasn't some invincible, heartless entity.
As she clung to me, weeping, her trembling shoulders looked terribly small. She felt so fragile that it seemed she might crumble if I touched her.
As she wept, letting out thousands of years of accumulated sorrow, I held her close—carefully, as if touching a delicate sculpture made of snow.
Dear Mom, Dad—I don’t want to patronize her by just saying I feel sorry for her. There’s really so little I can do. But for right now... is it okay if I try to act a little cool?