Of course — here’s a smooth English translation of your text (kept in a natural, novel-style tone):
There was something strangely unsettling about looking at that day’s memories from an objective perspective.
Zenya narrowed her eyes as she watched the Demon King emerge through the raging dust storm.
It wasn’t surprising in an era when entire villages or kingdoms could be destroyed by the Demon King’s army. But seeing the temple smashed apart like this was shocking.
Even if a whole village was wiped away, the small temple within it would remain without a scratch. Temples had always managed to escape the demons’ grasp.
“Fall into hell, Demon King!”
A holy knight, appearing from nowhere, shouted a meaningless curse and charged at the Demon King—only to collapse.
The knight’s final strike did nothing. The Demon King simply stared indifferently at the small wound on the back of his hand.
And standing before him was a terrified young Zenya—Astria.
It’s not different from what I remember…
And yet, it felt different.
Was it because it was the past? Before this memory appeared, her heart had been racing, but now she felt nothing in particular.
No… maybe she was angry.
But that anger wasn’t coming from the memory itself—it was her reaction to the situation she was experiencing now. After all, it was because of the Demon King that Zenya had been dragged into the battle between two demons.
Why did you dump this kind of job on me?
Standing crookedly, Zenya glared at the Demon King, who was striking a dramatic pose before the ruined temple.
As she stared at him with deep dissatisfaction, a cautious hand reached out from beside her.
Zenya lifted her head and looked at the hero, who gently caught her wrist.
“Why?” she asked.
His blue eyes—strangely clear today—scanned her face as if measuring something. Then he spoke.
“Should I erase him for you?”
“…What?”
“I can take care of it.”
When his gaze flicked toward the Demon King in the memory, a chill settled in his eyes.
“You look like you don’t want to see him.”
Zenya’s mouth fell open. She didn’t know how to respond.
He was the hero. And since he was the one offering, he probably could erase the memory. But if they interfered with the illusion and the mirror magic twisted, things could become worse.
Still…
“Is that really possible?”
Her voice came out awkwardly. Zenya bit her tongue, trying to calm herself.
But she couldn’t think rationally. If she shook her head now because it might be dangerous, what if he didn’t deal with the Demon King in reality either?
Zenya clenched her fist tightly and blinked. Without realizing it, her breathing had become uneven.
“It’s possible.”
His confident voice silenced the last trace of distrust she had.
She wanted to answer immediately, but her throat felt blocked, as though she couldn’t speak. Her heart pounded hard, striking through her whole body.
As she bit down on her lip, an unfamiliar thumb touched it.
The gentle pressure brushing her lower lip made her mouth part slightly. When she looked up, the hero spoke soothingly.
“You’ll leave a mark. And you don’t have to answer right away.”
Her lips trembled. The hero pressed them once more and smiled faintly, then lifted his head.
“Honestly… I’m the one who doesn’t want to see it.”
Zenya followed his gaze forward.
She saw the Demon King reaching out toward Astria.
The memory that followed was painfully vivid—something that had shaped her entire life.
Astria had used her holy power for a final desperate strike.
But it hadn’t harmed the Demon King at all.
Instead, it exposed her special power.
And then she’ll be kidnapped.
But what she saw next was completely different.
Someone was holding the collapsed Astria in their arms.
And a red, blade-like force surged toward the Demon King’s outstretched hand.
A sword?
The crimson sword-like power cut through the Demon King, and as if it were a lie, he began to scatter apart.
“Ah…”
Zenya stared quietly at the man who had destroyed the Demon King while holding Astria.
The hero.
She had longed for him… but someone who definitely hadn’t existed back then.
Which meant this wasn’t reality.
And yet she couldn’t look away.
So you truly are the hero.
His presence struck her anew.
As Astria vanished from his arms, just as the Demon King had, the hero approached Zenya again.
Zenya watched him come closer, the man lifting the corner of his lips as he stopped in front of her.
“Zenya, are you alri—”
“Hero…”
She couldn’t hold it in anymore.
“I’ve waited for you… for such a long time.”
A feeling she couldn’t name—excitement, joy—washed over her. Her voice trembled.
Her emotions swelled until she could barely breathe.
“Please… save—”
But the words never came.
Crash!
A deafening sound tore through the air. The ground shook violently, cracks spreading around them.
Zenya nearly fell, but the hero caught her.
Ignoring the collapsing scenery, Zenya grabbed the hand holding her tightly.
She didn’t know when she’d have another chance to speak.
Perhaps sensing her desperation, the hero whispered into her ear.
“Let’s talk… after we return to the room.”
The space was filled with the sound of things breaking and tearing apart, but his quiet voice was clear.
When their eyes met, he nodded.
A promise that he wouldn’t run away, even if it wasn’t now.
Zenya’s anxiety eased.
“…Okay.”
But just as she nodded, an irritatingly familiar voice rang out.
“Zenya!”
The voice belonged to Leraje—one of the culprits behind today’s incident.
* * *
Leraje stood with both hands over his heart, gazing reverently at the mirror.
Ever since witnessing the man presumed to be Zenya’s lover enter the mirror—and Vine being flung back out—his heart had been pounding.
“How much longer? Why is it taking so long?”
After Vine appeared, the effort to undo the spell accelerated, but it was still far too slow.
“If you’re so frustrated, why don’t you do it yourself?”
Berith’s crooked voice came from behind, but Leraje ignored him.
Even though Berith spoke like that, he was still helping dismantle the magic.
Of course, that was partly because of Leraje’s conditions—and Vine’s active cooperation.
Without looking back, Leraje replied.
“It’s difficult. This time, I intend to take in everything with my own eyes.”
He had no intention of looking away out of embarrassment or missing that beautiful form.
“Hah!”
Berith sprang up, his face flushed with anger.
“You’re joking right—!”
“Berith. Focus.”
Berith’s mouth opened in protest, but Vine didn’t even blink.
He knew what Berith wanted to say.
But he didn’t want to waste more time dealing with Leraje.
Vine shook his head seriously.
After a few frustrated laughs, Berith finally returned to examining the spell.
It seemed he felt a bit guilty for dragging Vine into this.
Even though he knew the mirror wasn’t truly dangerous.
Not that I’m going to make him feel better about it.
Judging by how tightly Berith pressed his lips together, it would take time for him to calm down.
Vine tapped Berith’s arm lightly in thanks, then recalled the unknown man who had thrown him out of the hole.
That power…
Leraje claimed the man was Zenya’s lover, but it was only speculation.
The fact that he had torn open the mirror spell and forced his way in meant he was far from ordinary.
If he had another purpose…
They needed to break the spell as quickly as possible.
“Done.”
At Berith’s words, Vine turned and saw the magical array losing its form.
Vine helped disrupt the flow faster, then immediately cast a protective barrier around them.
The moment the barrier fully formed, the mirror shattered into countless pieces, scattering everywhere.
But no one in the storage room cared.
“What a beautiful pair of lovers!”
Leraje looked perfectly fine, as if he had defended himself without warning.
Vine slowly rose and looked at the two figures who had emerged from the mirror.
Zenya looked mostly unchanged.
Then Vine turned his gaze to the man beside her.
A large figure, face hidden beneath layers of cloth.
He seemed to have just used great power—restrained now, but the aura spilling from him was anything but ordinary.
As Leraje’s excited voice suggested, the way the two shadows overlapped did make them look like lovers.
Vine stared quietly at the unfamiliar man’s hand wrapped around Zenya’s waist.
