When Steve offered the Holy Grail—as if he had conquered the entire cosmos—to King Solomon, the Demon King's all-seeing golden eyes, always clear and unshakeable, were troubled for the first time.
Wielding clairvoyance, he was able to see into the past, foretell the future, and witness countless tangles of cause and effect unfolding into endless possibilities. Yet, he had never before witnessed a scene like this, something so far beyond his comprehension—a genuine miracle not belonging to this planet, unveiled before his very eyes.
He was then told that he could make a wish—one that belonged to him alone.
His gaze lingered, hesitating, flickering between Steve's gentle, encouraging smile; Gilgamesh's amused expression from afar; and Goetia's clumsy, side-glancing profile.
At last, his eyes accidentally met those of Ritsuka Fujimaru and Mash.
At that very instant, the supercomputer-like mind of King Solomon crashed.
He saw it.
In the eyes of the two utterly exhausted children, their hair disheveled, he saw radiant, dazzling colors that defied even his EX-ranked clairvoyance.
Relief at victory, grief for fallen companions, hope for the future, a plea directed at him, and countless other emotions—contradictory yet genuine—all interwoven like a tapestry of humanity, like a starry sky ablaze with a brilliance called human kindness.
It was incomplete, fragile, and yet—and precisely because of this—immensely beautiful.
He recalled the future he had spent with them as Dr. Roman: those noisy but heartwarming days.
He remembered smiling to protect them, the moment when he unleashed his Noble Phantasm to shield them.
So this... is what color means, he thought.
At that very moment, Steve's final words became the blow that broke his composure.
"Make your wish… As you yourself once said, this is not a story of death and parting, but a tale of love and hope, isn't it?"
"I..."
For the first time, he spoke not as King, but using "I." For the first time, he wished—not for others, but for himself: "I want to experience for myself… what those colors truly feel like."
As if led by the starlit sky, the heart which had always been the instrument of God now beat for himself alone.
Without hesitation, he clutched the Lantern of Chaldea tightly in his hands, invoked his entire will from the moment of his birth, all of it dedicated to this selfish wish.
"I am prepared to relinquish everything granted to me as King by the gods—grace, wisdom, power, everything."
"My only desire... is to live once more in this world, as a simple, pure human being!"
The wish was granted.
A brilliant white light burst forth from the Holy Grail, engulfing King Solomon completely.
Within this light, the regal, long robes which symbolized his kingship melted away like ice and snow. The ten rings on his fingers—proofs of absolute power—transformed into streams of light and vanished into the void. His long, white hair—a sign of divinity—faded to a soft orange, while the all-seeing golden eyes, when they closed and reopened, were now a warm, luminous green.
That inhuman, fearsome aura of detached indifference was gone completely.
In its place was only the warmth—and the vulnerability—of human life.
When the light faded, the figure standing in the same spot was no longer the solitary, overwhelming King of Magecraft. Instead, he was a young man in his early twenties, unremarkable at first glance—linen coat, messy hair, a slightly weary and self-conscious expression. He seemed no more remarkable than a clumsy neighbor; someone you'd never look twice at.
This was the birth of Romani Archaman.
Strictly speaking, this was the name he would later give himself, but thanks to his clairvoyance, even before reincarnation Solomon had glimpsed the name in his own future. The word Roman—signifying something unknown in this entire era—felt fitting, representing the newness he felt in his rebirth. And so he chose to keep this name for the next chapter of life.
"Ah..."
He blankly stared at his own hands, feeling the air moving, the pounding of his heart, the fatigue from battle coursing through his body. For humans, these are utterly ordinary sensations, but for him, they were all new and astonishing.
But then, a flood of memories surged into his mind.
He remembered. Just a moment ago, he had been acting mechanically—like a robot—expressionlessly following Marisbury's orders, summoning powerful Servants...
He remembered the cold, merciless things he'd said, the arrogance, the fear he instilled in Mash, Ritsuka, and Olga Marie with his magic...
"Uhh…!"
And the next instant, this newborn who had just gained human emotions let out a shrill, childlike scream.
His face went beet red, color spreading to his neck. An unprecedented sense of shame and guilt erupted within him like a volcano.
Desperately tugging at his own messy hair, he suddenly bowed at a deep 90-degree angle toward Ritsuka and Mash, shouting with all his might:
"I'm sorry! I'm really, really sorry!"
"That...that wasn't me! Well, it was me, but also not me!"
"It was all the work of a nonexistent twin brother! Yeah, that's it! I had nothing to do with it!"
"Ha ha, ha... ha ha ha..."
He tried to brush it off with a terribly unconvincing lie and a forced, emotionless laugh, but his jumbled words and shifty gaze only made him look more suspicious. And ridiculous.
Olga Marie, who stood nearby, shot him a fierce, contemptuous glare. Instantly, he quieted, collapsing down and squatting on the ground in a little circle, muttering: "It's all over… My first impression is ruined… Girls are going to hate me forever…"
Looking at the man before them—lazy, unreliable, but unbelievably kind, exactly like the doctor in their memories—Ritsuka and Mash were momentarily stunned but then burst out in laughter.
The exhaustion of battle and melancholy of farewell were blown away—at least a little—by this humorous, heartwarming reunion.
Steve, having witnessed the scene to his great satisfaction, quietly stepped aside, ceding the stage to the children, who at last had their happy ending.
…