novelraw Chapter 74 : Chapter 74
Chapter 74 : Chapter 74
Chapter 74: A Flowering Bone (2)
Noon, Cia-Harphe Academy.
Abel stood in the middle of his office. He had just changed out of his torn formal coat. As he tightened the knot of his tie and looked out the window, it was cloudy. A rain cloud, starting to gather from the north. A black curtain seemed to have been drawn across the edge of the sky. Perhaps the first snow would fall. Abel thought, feeling the chilly air.
Around Abel, two figures were shimmering.
It was the result of a long-distance communication spell being activated. Each figure represented the crest of the institution connected by the spell. The full moon engraved with an eye was the symbol of the Inquisition Bureau, and the black sun was that of the Imperial Secret Service.
Abel’s expression hardened.
The Director of the Inquisition Bureau, and the Chief Knight Commander of the Imperial Secret Service, were all without exception big shots that formed the core of the Empire. Abel responded to them as the Sword Saint.
“I will only state the main point. I need an army.”
The order was simple.
Dispatch support troops to the Saint-Pierre estate. For relief, not for battle. After reporting the aforementioned request to the Pope and the Emperor, take action. As the Sword Saint, Abel of the Margin, will be visiting the Saint-Pierre estate.
“Begin preparations for this.”
A moment of silence.
The leaders of the Papacy and the Imperial Palace understood.
That the Sword Saint would reveal himself. In the Saint-Pierre estate.
It was an irrefutably important matter. There was no need to even question the intention. As the Sword Saint had only acted publicly in situations of national crisis.
And so, the faint two figures disappeared, and
a shout, soaked in bewilderment, echoed.
Drogo von Babenberg le Zylon.
The Prince of the Snowy Mountains, the crest of the Zylon family, stirred beside Abel. A bear shouldering a shield was flickering as if enraged.
“That is correct, Your Highness.”
Abel nodded.
“As of today, the Saint-Pierre estate will disappear.”
“There is no time for a lengthy explanation. By all means, please dispatch the barbarians of Zylon.”
<──Don’t be ridiculous!>
Sway.
A fluttering flower petal.
Abel’s gaze turned to the round table. The yellow rose in the glass bottle. The flower Fleur had given him had completely withered.
“...If I may be so bold as to say, I know as well.”
Abel extended his hand.
He gently caressed the leaf of the yellow rose.
But it was useless. He brushed his hand carefully, but it crumbled futilely. The blackened petal broke into small pieces and fluttered, and
“Fabien.”
Abel looked back with a hardened expression.
[Yes, Professor Argento.]
In front of the office's archway door, Fabien stood.
Fabien’s mana reactor began to flicker wildly. Numerous questions tore through Fabien’s mind, but there was no need to seek answers. As Fabien had come to learn how to endure questions.
“Go to Monika.”
She will need you, he said.
After speaking softly, Abel stared out the window, and
[Understood.]
Fabien turned around without hesitation.
A questionable, but unquestionable, absurd and irrational event is about to happen.
With such a premonition.
* * *
Phew.
Fleur’s breath poured out.
Steam misted the surface of the car window. Fleur extended her index finger and parted it. As she drew a distorted curve, she felt her body temperature had risen, and a faint pain was being engraved.
And yet, why was it? Vitality was welling up and her mood was elated. Every sense added to her body became sharp. Thump, thump. And what about her racing heart? Fleur’s chest heaved busily. The monster’s core must be taking root in her body.
“Louise.”
Fleur held a smile.
Leaning back in the back seat of the mana-powered vehicle.
“Listen carefully. You must move as soon as I enter the banquet hall. Servants are not allowed in the banquet hall, so you mustn’t miss that opportunity. Go to the butler. I’ve told him the entire plan. Evacuate with the servants. The knights will help.”
“What nonsense are you talking about again?”
Please be quiet for a moment.
We’re about to pass through a dimensional door, she said.
Louise muttered, turning the steering wheel.
“Nonsense? I…”
“I know everything, my lady. You’re trying to die, aren't you?”
Fleur’s lips stiffened.
A firm silence flowed, and the exhaust sound of the mana-powered vehicle settled between Louise and Fleur.
“Since you’re going to die anyway, shall we be honest? There was something I couldn’t say because of my low status.”
Fleur just stared.
At the back of Louise, who was sitting in the front seat of the vehicle.
“My lady, you are obsessed with flowers like a mad person, but you seem to be indifferent to the roots that make up the flowers. I always thought you were unlucky. The flower above the ground seems to stand alone and lofty, but the flower below the ground desperately extends its roots.”
The servants knew.
That you were always desperate, my lady.
You tried to be kind to us. You always did.
You were endlessly clumsy and therefore rude at times, but it didn't matter. The servants all liked you, my lady.
Because you were different, my lady. Unlike the people of the Saint-Pierre family who rationalize their immorality under the pretext of faith, you, my lady, who actually had an audience with the God of the Underworld, did not owe your faith.
The roots have reached.
Your roots have reached us, my lady.
“And what about me?”
I…, she said.
Louise let out a sigh, and
“...I’ve always felt it, you blockhead.”
she gritted, biting her lower lip.
Because it was always a mess. Every time Fleur stole and wore it, Louise’s maid uniform would get dirty. It was caked with stubborn dirt and dust, and she sighed so much that a sweet smell just vibrated.
Therefore, she knew. This person would die someday. That she would face the family, even if it meant being prepared for death. That because she looked up at her mother who had hanged herself, because she looked up endlessly, she would never be able to confirm her own roots.
“Do you understand, Lady Fleur? You are a fool of the world…”
“Thank you, Louise.”
Fleur just smiled.
Sitting in a demure posture, she hardened her smile as she always had. So that’s what it was. I was the only one who didn't know. I thought I had never touched anyone, but I had been connected to everyone all along. With that thought in her mind.
She had received love.
She had received consideration.
She had been sharing friendship.
What a fool I am. Why didn't I know? Marco da Materazzi's love was sincere. The servants had always been considerate of me. Louise Bourdieux had been sharing friendship with me. I thought I hadn’t learned love, consideration, friendship, but I had been receiving them so fully.
I had been connected to everyone's roots.
‘Then what about you, Monika?’
Fleur thought, glancing at her shoulder.
A single withered petal was on Fleur’s shoulder. She picked it up and sent it flying out the car window. The petal melted into the distant landscape.
‘Did I reach you too? Even though I was so broken.’
I hope so.
Even though I can’t turn back now.
* * *
A pile of flower petals scattered.
The petals, withered from clotted blood and stained with dust. Monika moved forward, parting them. With her amber eyes hardened, she stared deeply at the leather armor displayed in front of her.
Cia-Harphe Academy, the Black Swan Building.
Monika, who had reached her dormitory, began to arm herself.
I’m going to the Saint-Pierre estate. Monika resolved, spreading the black-painted armor. I have to save Fleur. No matter what makes Fleur die, I will save Fleur. I don't know the way. I don't know the justification either. All I know is an endlessly poor fact.
‘You…’
If I dare to say, you should not die.
Monika knew the reason why she had survived. It must have been thanks to the deliberation of the people of Sarrifis. That she, the youngest, she, the most powerless, should not die. She was able to survive because everyone had resolved so.
So I have to go.
Even if Fleur's death is providence,
even if it is a fate determined by the Main Gods, let's decide not to know in the end.
Let’s decide not to know lightly. No matter how learned one is, if one cannot save Fleur, let's resist to save Fleur while being endlessly ignorant.
‘Because I was the same.’
Monika extended her hand.
Numerous paper slips on the dormitory wall. She caressed the names engraved on them. And so, she could not know. The people who had willingly sacrificed themselves to save her, through them, she could be firmly ignorant.
‘No one would have known.’
that I could survive,
they must have tried without anyone knowing.
* * *
A picture frame was hanging on the wall.
In the midst of the fiercely blowing wind, Fleur looked up at the picture in the frame.
‘I’m home, mother.’
Three people made up the canvas.
The most hateful man in the world, and the most beautiful woman in the world. Between them, a young Fleur was smiling. It had never been like that, there had never been such a family-like time, but how simple and deceptive was the painting forged from fiction?
‘Fleur has not forgotten.’
Pertillier Epanoui was steadfastly unhappy, and
only the picture of Pertillier de Saint-Pierre remained. Disguised with neat curves and splendid paint. As if she had been happy throughout her life.
‘Fleur de Saint-Pierre pretended not to know, but…’
Fleur turned around.
The far north of the Holy Numeros Empire, the middle of the Saint-Pierre castle.
Her enemies were everywhere. And so, she was happy. More than happy. They would die today. Their severed heads would form a mountain range, and their gouged-out hearts would steadfastly freeze. Yes, so…
‘Fleur Epanoui has not forgotten.’
Your death,
she has not forgotten it even once.
* * *
Fleur had an army.
Thirty in number. Twenty-nine had lost their selves, but their desire for revenge was clear. That was why they were following Fleur.
The only dead man who had not lost his self, Alberge Hildeberg, was a good knight. He would be a help to Fleur’s command.
Osmond Epanoui was a natural-born swordsman. He had been trained to roam the battlefield by mobilizing numerous artifacts.
The resuscitation ceremony would not be helpful in battle. But she had learned a large amount of divine magic, and she had advanced her physical abilities by ingesting a monster’s core.
‘This is all I have.’
Fleur thought, staring at the mirror.
The servants were moving busily. To adorn Fleur. Thick makeup covered Fleur’s face, and a pure white dress enveloped her thin body. Her blue hair, which had billowed like a wave, was neatly tied. The frills that made up the dress were as fresh as if imitating flower petals, and yes, that’s right.
Wouldn’t it be too flashy for a shroud?
Fleur guessed with a smile.
“Lady Fleur.”
Meanwhile, a servant’s whisper reached Fleur’s ear.
“Let’s go. The banquet is about to begin.”
Fleur did not delay.
She put on white shoes and stepped on the carpet.
But it was black. Fleur’s long shadow.
The shadow, caked with grudge, shimmered at Fleur’s feet.
* * *
Damn it, why is this so complicated?
Monika thought, letting out a deep sigh. She couldn't put on the armor as she intended. It had felt simple when Abel helped, but it was quite tricky to put it on alone. Damn, damn, damn. As Monika spat out curses with a frown,
[Monika-nim.]
Thump, thump.
A knock on the door was heard.
[Is there anything I can help you with?]
Monika opened the front door.
Fabien’s face was visible through the gap in the door. The same smiling expression as always. But it was somehow unfamiliar. Was it because she hadn't seen him for a few days? A strange warmth was felt from Fabien’s expression, which had felt mechanical.
“Um…”
Monika rolled her eyes to the side, and
“...It’s difficult to put on the armor.”
she muttered, pouting her lips.
She was embarrassed. To not even be able to put on her own armor.
[Rest assured. I will help you.]
Fabien didn’t mind.
[Because I am the latest model golem.]
And so, she stood facing the mirror.
As Fabien calmly helped her arm, Monika examined her reflection in the mirror. Her black hair, which had reached her shoulders, was neatly tied. The leather armor that enveloped her body was good for melting into the shadows, and by mobilizing a spell, she had reduced its weight and secured its elasticity. Of course, even so,
I don’t look like a real knight at all.
Monika thought with a bitter expression.
[May I confirm a few things?]
Suddenly, Fabien’s whisper reached Monika’s ear.
[It is not a question, but a confirmation. May I?]
“Of course.”
[It does not seem you are arming yourself for training. Is that correct?]
“...That’s right.”
[It also does not seem to be a decoration for self-satisfaction. If that were the case, you would be smiling while looking at the mirror.]
“No, it doesn’t make sense to put on armor just to look in the mirror once.”
[Is that really so?]
Huhu.
Fabien laughed, and
[You are about to engage in a real battle, Monika-nim.]
he declared, looking up at Monika.
The ends of her boots were tied, and the armor was completely worn.
With this, all preparations were complete. Fabien lightly stood up and stepped back.
A real battle.
Monika placed a hand on her chest.
It felt as if her carefully frozen inner self was melting. That’s right. From now on, it’s a real battle. It’s different from the daily training. She wasn’t caught up in a sudden accident. She had finished preparing to head to the jaws of death herself. She would grip the hilt of a sword in the midst of a pile of corpses, and throw herself into a disgusting conflict of interests. To stop someone’s death, she would have to be prepared for her own death as well.
[Since it seems you are engaging in your first real battle, I will be honest. There was something I couldn't say because I didn't know what was sincere.]
Monika just stared.
At the face of Fabien, who was standing demurely.
[Monika-nim, you seem to steadfastly discover life. It must be because you are living so desperately. Thank you for holding a funeral for the golems. Thanks to you, their lives were completed. Mourning must be the process of discovering life from death, and then properly reviewing it.]
I can finally say it with certainty.
Monika-nim is like the sunlight. Or like a stream.
A seed buried in the ground cannot sprout on its own. It sprouts by the sun, by the water.
A small seed, buried deep somewhere in this world, sprouts because the sun finds it and shines on it, and the water finds it and seeps in.
And so it becomes vibrant.
I too was able to become vibrant.
[Do you understand? I will dare to say it.]
Monika-nim is…, he said.
Fabien whispered, extending his index finger.
[somehow like a hero.]
“──Pfft!”
Monika laughed hollowly.
She could distinguish between a fairy tale and reality. A fairy tale is made of cheerful pictures and words that stir the heart, but the style of reality was cold, and there were plenty of things that couldn't be solved through the heart. In the first place, she had no time to examine her heart right now. It was time to check her equipment.
‘This is all I have.’
Monika had a great sword.
It was a weapon that didn’t suit her build. Although it was said to have a power comparable to a holy relic, it was only suitable for killing monsters.
And she also had a prosthetic arm. She had familiarized herself with the functions of the prosthetic arm through her training so far. She could fire a volley of mana bullets, and it had a built-in blade that could be used as a secondary weapon.
And pollen. It was possible to release the pollen of the porginay that was the material of the prosthetic arm. The small particles that were emitted would neutralize low-level magic.
Finally, aura.
Monika held her breath.
She concentrated the aura that had been circulating in her body into her prosthetic arm.
And so, a green stem of grass began to envelop the dark prosthetic arm.
It was easy to gaze at the lushly woven belief with her eyes. It was difficult to form it into sentences. Monika could not yet put her own belief into words.
‘Then what about you, Fleur?’
The aura that had been enveloping the prosthetic arm was dismantled.
The stem, woven into a strand, broke into pieces, and the leaves that had raised their blades scattered. Only the fragments of aura that had seeped into the empty air were shining faintly. Monika took a breath once and moved on.
‘Can I let you know? That life is so difficult.’
I hope so.
Because I’m going to follow you from now on.
* * *
Monika ran.
Busily, towards Abel’s office.
Fleur walked.
Calmly, towards the family’s banquet hall.
Then, for a moment, Monika turned her head.
The second day of the Moonlight Day was in full swing. The scenery outside the window that made up the corridor was noisy. The capital, stained with various colors, was like a barely completed puzzle. Because so many pieces of life had overlapped, it would not change even if a piece from a corner were to fall off.
Then, for a moment, Fleur turned her head.
A snowflake was shimmering outside the window. In a corner of the bleakly withered Saint-Pierre estate, a tall, snow-covered mountain was heavy and hazy. The wind brushed against the mountain ridge and became noisy as if screaming, but it would not be as much as a person’s wail.
Monika ran again.
Busily, her black armor bobbed wildly.
Fleur walked again.
Calmly, her white dress fluttered slightly.
And so, she arrived.
Monika stood facing the entrance of Abel’s office.
After taking a breath once, the moment she reached out her hand and knocked on the archway door,
And so, she arrived.
Fleur stood facing the entrance of the family’s banquet hall.
After taking a breath once, the moment she reached out her hand and was about to open the archway door,
.
.
.
[The shadow of the Pantheon will clothe you.]
It was as if time had stopped.
The whole world except for Fleur stopped. The snowflakes that had begun to scatter were fixed in the empty air, and the servants who had bowed their heads to greet her were frozen like stone statues.
Fleur hesitated for a moment, but
she turned around and stared at the gaze directed at her.
Numerous eyes from the ceiling, from the wall, from the floor,
had begun to sprout from all directions, but
only one pair of eyes was facing Fleur.
“O God of the Underworld.”
A pair of light blue eyes with a faint blue light.
Fleur was in the two eyes of the God of the Underworld. In the center of the field of vision, on the horizontal and vertical axis, Fleur stood. With her hands clasped, with a surprised expression for a moment.
“...I apologize.”
Fleur took a step.
She was approaching the God of the Underworld. Fleur, who was filled in the God of the Underworld’s vision, gradually grew closer, but even so, it was only for a moment. She became faint as if she had become eternally distant. Fleur’s figure gradually became faint, and in the end, only a faint outline could be perceived.
“I have committed a blasphemy. I have swallowed a monster’s core. I am ashamed as an evangelist. You may consider me abominable.”
[No, that is different.]
The God of the Underworld quietly declared.
[I cannot impose good and evil on you. The Main Gods are irrelevant to the standards of their creatures. Whether you consider yourself good, or whether you consider yourself evil, it cannot reach me. It is the history of each of you that determines what is right.]
“But, O God of the Underworld.”
A pair of light blue eyes with a faint blue light.
The God of the Underworld was in Fleur’s two eyes. A pale man standing with a lantern in one hand, wearing a cloak as if woven from jet-black. Fleur’s and the God of the Underworld’s eyes were endlessly similar, but they were decisively different.
“...Why are you shedding tears?”
The God of the Underworld’s eyes were getting wet.
The water that had quietly seeped out formed a drop and flowed down, and his wet eyes trembled carefully.
[No, that is different.]
The God of the Underworld declared again.
[I have no eyes. These are your eyes. To open your eyes when you are born, and to close your eyes as you die, is the physiology that you have seized. Thanks to your birth, I was able to see you. Soon, when you close your eyes, I will pull out these two eyes and give them to you.]
So it is your cry, he said.
The God of the Underworld whispered to Fleur.
[This cry is not mine. It is only yours.]
“No, that’s not right. I don’t cry anymore.”
Fleur extended her hand.
She carefully caressed the God of the Underworld’s face. After wiping away the water that wet his eyes, she caressed the tears that had flowed down his skin. And so, the God of the Underworld’s vision became whole.
Fleur was smiling. What was in the God of the Underworld’s vision was a perfect smile. The God of the Underworld, who had once heard Fleur’s cry from a distant place, held a question towards the smiling Fleur from an exceptionally close place.
He had no choice but to ask again.
[You…, why are you smiling?]
“It seems I don’t like it when you are sad, O God of the Underworld. I was always like this. I always smiled even beside my wailing mother. I thought it might get better if I did…”
Thank you very much, he said.
Fleur whispered to the God of the Underworld.
“for hearing my cry around the time my mother passed away. Thanks to you, I was able to face it too. My own indignation.”
She began to leave.
Fleur moved away from the God of the Underworld’s vision.
The huge archway door leading to the banquet hall. Fleur took a breath with her hand on its surface. She stood in silence with her eyes closed, then looked back for the last time. At the eyes of the God of the Underworld, who was seeing her off blankly.
“O God of the Underworld, I am not afraid of death.”
Fleur bowed her head, and
“It won’t take long. I will be seeing you soon.”
she opened the archway door without hesitation.
One, two. The eyes that had sprouted from all directions disappeared, and as Fleur’s footsteps gradually faded,
[Fleur, only now do I realize──.]
The God of the Underworld also closed his eyes.
The time that had stopped began to flow again.
[──The reason I gifted you the resuscitation ceremony.]
The figure of the God of the Underworld vanished, and
[was not to save someone else, but because I wanted to save only you.]
only a small sigh was left behind.
Neither in the past, nor in the present, nor in the future,
lonely in a place where no one could hear, just faintly.