novelraw Chapter 152 : Chapter 152
Chapter 152 : Chapter 152
Chapter 152: Blossoms, Bouquets, and a Storm of Flowers (4)
Afternoon, Cia-Harphe Academy.
As the winter wind brushed past the windows of the office—
[Professor Argento.]
THUD, THUD.
Fabien knocked on the round table.
Piles of documents were scattered across its surface. They were copies of various records procured from Portsmouth. Not only the resident registries of those who had lived there over the years, but also the annual chronicles had been secured. Abel was reviewing them, organizing the information according to the report format.
[Professor Argento.]
THUD, THUD.
Fabien knocked on the round table once more.
“I am listening.”
Abel slowly raised his head.
Holding a stack of papers, he looked at Fabien. Between ash-dulled strands of silver hair, Fabien’s silhouette was reflected in Abel’s dark blue eyes.
“What is it?”
[That is a strange question.]
Fabien shrugged.
Then he jerked his chin toward the office entrance.
[I have been telling you repeatedly.]
That the Vice President has arrived, he whispered, and at the same time—
[That is right.]
Konstanze’s voice reached Abel’s ear.
Abel turned his gaze toward the entrance of the office. Konstanze was standing there, her back to the archway.
[I waited for over thirty minutes. You only noticed me just now. What were you thinking about so intently?]
“My apologies, Vice President.”
Abel rose from his chair.
After offering a light bow, he gestured toward the seat opposite the round table.
“I was reviewing the records obtained from Portsmouth.”
[I see.]
Konstanze nodded.
She took the seat across from Abel. From among the scattered documents on the table, she picked one up and skimmed its contents. The report itself was merely a procedural formality. She already had a general grasp of the facts.
[This will be difficult to organize.]
Konstanze frowned.
Every record contained gaps. That meant a great deal of information had been discarded. The registries were filled with erased names, and lies were interwoven throughout the chronicles. It must have been an attempt to conceal what had occurred in Portsmouth. After all, compiling the documents had been the village chief’s responsibility.
[The report you submit will be stored in the vault. Only I will be able to read it. Human sacrifice, monster worship……. Such matters must never be disclosed to the outside.]
“I understand.”
Abel nodded once.
He had instructed the students as well. They were to keep silent about what had happened in Portsmouth.
The value attached to the name Portsmouth was trivial. It ought to remain trivial in the future as well. As long as what happened there did not become known, Portsmouth would soon function as nothing more than a small fishing village.
Not a cursed village where human sacrifice and monster worship had taken place, but a modest fishing village, left as such.
[…How frustrating.]
Konstanze let out a sigh.
[If the truth were revealed, if it were reported by the press…… the local community would be isolated, and fanatics might even impose private punishment…….]
Konstanze was right.
That was precisely why silence had been chosen.
Village Chief Robert, the Miko Eleanor, and the elf Pnakotic. Apart from those three, the residents of Portsmouth had not known the truth behind the faith. They did not know. Even that ignorance would be considered a sin by some. Ignorance in remote regions was often misconstrued as barbarism, and to the so-called civilized, barbarism was treated as an original sin.
[…This way of thinking is somewhat mechanical.]
Abel’s gaze narrowed.
He looked at Konstanze with a wordless expression.
No, that was merely a doll. A doll modeled after Konstanze von Theresia. The doll understood her own position perfectly. She simply did not realize that she herself was a doll.
[Your class…… those children. Is there no chance they might reveal the secret?]
“There is none.”
[You are certain? There is no need to use a Vow Spell?]
“I will guarantee it.”
[…I want to trust you.]
Konstanze removed her glasses.
With her eyes closed, she sighed.
[I…….]
I am relieved they are safe.
Truly. I am genuinely relieved that your students are safe.
Konstanze murmured softly.
[To be honest, I want to abolish practical evaluations. There have always been casualties. Your students endured it well, but this year alone, three died and more than ten were seriously injured.]
As adults, or as Teachers, we try to protect students, yet we keep placing them in danger.
[Even setting aside practical evaluations…… in this place of learning, students die for many reasons. Teachers kill students, students kill students, and students choose death themselves…….]
“Children are always dying.”
Sometimes, they die first of all.
CIAR is no exception.
Abel whispered.
“I do not believe Teachers can be noble. After tallying children’s pain and anguish, we merely assign them trials one after another and observe. We rank children through numbers and treat them differently as a result. We insist they carry their own convictions, yet at the same time force them to follow the Teacher’s will.”
How dazzling.
Thinking that, Abel turned his body.
He stood facing the office window. The expansive grounds filled his view. Though the break had begun, many students remained. Among them were those whose relationships with their families were strained, and those who had nowhere to go if they left CIAR. To Abel, all students seemed fragile.
“And so, a Teacher inevitably commits both great and small wrongs against children…….”
Abel extended his hand.
He grasped the curtain and pulled it closed.
The cold sunlight dimmed.
“……That is why, at times, it becomes unbearable.”
Konstanze did not respond.
She merely brushed her hair aside, polished her glasses, and looked at Abel. The reason his expression appeared blurred was not merely due to her eyesight. Konstanze knew why Abel felt guilty.
[The children…….]
And so she spoke.
In a small, whispering voice.
[To the children who were offered as sacrifices in Portsmouth…… in the end, all we could teach them was death.]
The children offered as human sacrifices.
The truth that countless boys and girls had been kept alive while fused with monsters. And the truth that Abel had been forced to end their lives. Konstanze knew all of this. She was reluctant to question and answer for herself what was right and what was wrong, yet she could be certain of one thing.
She herself knew no other way.
She herself could not be free of guilt.
[What do you plan to do now, Professor Argento?]
At Konstanze’s question, Abel silently stepped forward.
At the center of the round table, he looked at the yellow rose sealed in a glass bottle.
[…No, Sword Saint Abel of the Margin.]
It was the rose Fleur had given him.
A rose left unattended for too long, with nothing but remnants remaining.
The water inside the glass bottle had discolored as it mixed with the rotted stem, and the shriveled leaves had decayed like the hand of a corpse rather than a flower.
[According to what you said, an Apostate visited the area, and that was what started the monster worship…….]
Abel picked up the rose.
He forced himself to smell it.
All that greeted him was a foul stench.
[…You intend to pursue them, do you not?]
“Of course.”
The Parousia Denomination.
They could not be left alone.
Portsmouth must have been nothing more than a diversion to them. He had no intention of allowing them to continue indulging in calamities.
“Portsmouth will be safe now.”
Abel brushed his hand through empty space.
RUMBLE. A small Subspace opened.
To Konstanze, it appeared to be a Pocket Plain. Abel placed the rotted rose inside it.
“By now, a certain Knight should have arrived.”
[…A Knight?]
Abel nodded.
Then he shifted his gaze toward Fabien.
“So, for now, I must…….”
Flowers.
As many flowers as possible.
“……go and buy them.”
***
Flowers.
So many flowers.
Facing a vast flower field, Osmond came to a halt. Had it been three days of walking? He thought he was nearing the sea, yet the flower field was lush. It felt strange to call this a fishing village’s scenery. Above all else, the smell. The floral scent seeping into the clown’s mask felt familiar.
‘……Miss Fleur?’
Why did that thought come to mind?
The scent of flowers somehow felt like the scent of flesh. As Osmond stood there thinking that—
- Hey! Let us slow down a bit.
- Yeah……. I am sweating even though it is winter.
- Drink this first. I mixed some lemonade.
At a distance, people were gathered near the fishing village.
From the look of it, they were burying the dead. Wooden coffins were lined up in rows, and young men and elderly alike were digging through the flower field. Had there been a monster attack? There were quite a few coffins. I should help. As Osmond took a step forward—
“Well now, there is a suspicious fellow.”
“You are right. He looks really suspicious.”
Suddenly, voices reached Osmond’s ear.
An elderly elf woman and a human girl. Pnakotic and Eleanor were standing behind him.
“Your name?”
Eleanor asked with her arms crossed.
“……The Mysterious Masked Man.”
Osmond replied blankly.
“I see.”
Pnakotic let out a hollow laugh and said,
“Nice to meet you, Osmond Epanoui.”
She pronounced his name perfectly.
“You must be surprised.”
“At how we know your name.”
Osmond’s head tilted to one side.
How do they know my name? I have never spoken it once while wandering from place to place. As he stood there, frozen in confusion, Pnakotic and Eleanor continued without concern.
“We read the article in the Daily Watcher. It seems you have been wandering across various regions.”
“Judging by your movements, it looked like you would reach Portsmouth soon. I myself stayed here until recently.”
It was strange.
The old woman’s manner of speech, the girl’s tone— somehow, they felt like the cadence of a certain man.
“You seem to be wandering in order to help someone…….”
“……If you would, please take a look around this village.”
Abel Argento.
Yes. It sounds like that man.
“This place will suit you perfectly.”
“Are you not asking for flowers as your reward?”
“There are this many flowers here.”
“That is all, for Osmond Epanoui.”
Signed, Abel Argento.
Pnakotic and Eleanor finished speaking.
“……So Abel stopped by here?”
Osmond finally spoke, and—
“That is right. He asked us to pass the message along if a man wearing a clown’s mask arrived.”
“He seemed to know you would come here. Are you friends, perhaps? So, what do you think?”
“Will you help us?”
“Will you help us?”
Pnakotic and Eleanor asked at the same time.
“……Fine.”
Osmond answered without hesitation.
“But in return…….”
He asked only one thing.
Moving his armor-clad body, his face hidden behind the clown’s mask.
“……Give me these flowers.”