I Just Wanted a Peaceful Life… So Why Do Heroes Worship Me?

The sanctuary didn't scream.

It simply tensed.

The air went still. The moss curled inward on the stones. The plum blossoms stopped shedding petals mid-fall, suspended in an unseen breath.

And Rei knew—someone had entered who shouldn't have.

Someone who didn't belong.

He was already walking toward the north ridge by the time Zephyr stirred and Fluff sat upright. Ellyn and Auron were mid-conversation when the tea in Ellyn's cup vibrated softly, unnaturally. Even Ferren stopped mid-ramble, frowning into the sky like the wind had forgotten how to move.

Lynna noticed the shift too.

"What is that?" she asked aloud.

Rei said nothing.

But the sanctuary did.

Roots thickened under the soil. The paths warped, just slightly, as if trying to twist away from what was approaching.

By the time Rei reached the ridge, the man had already crossed into the boundary. He wore confidence like armor—formal robes brushed clean, boots shining despite the forest, a golden ring on one hand inscribed with old temple markings.

He smiled the moment he saw Rei.

"I thought the stories were exaggerated," the man said. "But here you are. Living like a farmer in this... ghost forest."

Rei stopped several steps away.

The sanctuary hummed—soft, low, like a growl too deep to hear, but impossible to ignore.

"You should leave," Rei said.

The man laughed. "Still so dramatic. I came to talk."

"You came to confirm."

That made the man pause. "I admit, the rumors were absurd. 'The Silent One lives in a garden where even death gets lost.' But now I see… it's true. You've buried yourself under dirt and vines and call it peace."

The leaves near Rei's feet trembled.

"You're mistaken," Rei said softly. "Peace is not something I buried myself under. It's something I grew."

The man tilted his head. "Still hiding your name, I see?"

Rei said nothing.

So the man said it.

Out loud.

Clear. Sharp.

The name Rei had abandoned.

The one that once made beasts bow and kings kneel.

The sanctuary reacted first.

The trees groaned.

Not from wind.

From resistance.

The light dimmed beneath the canopy. The air tightened. And the ground beneath the man's feet cracked—not violently, but deliberately.

The sanctuary was listening.

And it did not approve.

"You shouldn't have said that," Rei said, voice still even.

The man scoffed. "What, will your garden smother me?"

Rei didn't answer.

Instead, moss curled upward around the man's boots. The path behind him crumbled, sealing itself. The air grew thick—not choking, not cruel—just... absolute.

Like judgment.

Like protection.

The man's smile slipped.

"You bound it," he whispered. "You didn't just grow this place. You fused with it."

Rei stepped forward once.

And the sanctuary moved with him.

The wind pressed down on the intruder's shoulders. The roots coiled tighter. The trees swayed without breeze, leaning toward Rei like old allies.

"You are not welcome," Rei said. "And you will not speak that name again."

The man opened his mouth to argue.

And found he couldn't.

Not because of magic.

Because the forest itself held his breath like a vice.

He gasped. Choked.

And dropped to his knees.

Rei didn't lift a finger.

Didn't glare.

Didn't threaten.

He simply looked at him.

And the man broke.

Not from pain.

From fear.

Fear of the silence.

Fear of a power so old, so patient, so refined, it no longer needed to scream to be heard.

When Rei finally spoke again, it was with the gentleness of a leaf landing on water.

"You may forget that name," he said. "But you will remember this. The sanctuary does not forgive."

The man crawled backward.

The roots released him.

The path behind him reopened.

And the forest pushed him out without another word.

—

Later, Lynna found Rei back in the greenhouse, trimming vines again like nothing had happened.

She didn't speak at first.

Just watched.

Then finally, "I felt it."

"I know."

"That wasn't magic."

"No."

"It was you."

Rei glanced at her.

She didn't flinch.

"Whatever your name used to be," she said quietly, "I'm glad you chose this one instead."

He looked down at the soil, ran his fingers through the roots.

"It's not the name that matters," he said. "It's what I refuse to be anymore."

And outside, the wind began to move again.