Sophien. (1)
Julie awoke in a bedchamber of the Imperial Palace.
The Emperor Sophien sat at her bedside. As always, Kairon stood behind her.
…
Julie was momentarily flustered. The unexpected nursing care made her eyelids flutter involuntarily.
…It is not a mere injury, but a curse. And a most vicious one at that.
Sophien spoke in a tone as dry as desert sand. Julie, who had hastily tried to sit up, flinched at the pain.
Ugh!
It is well. Lie still.
No, I—
I have heard this curse was acquired while escorting Deculein.
…
Julie said nothing. Sophien scanned her body from head to toe.
We too once suffered from a dire affliction. It was a tormenting life. Torment so profound it dulled even the sense of torment itself… Knight, look upon Us.
…
Julie dared to meet the emperor's gaze. But Sophien's pupils held no vitality. No spark of life. It was an astonishingly hollow light.
Sophien let out a faint chuckle.
Thou seest it, doest thou not? We overcame that past affliction, but another still gnaws at Us. Its name is ennui, or perhaps sloth.
With those words, she placed her hand on Julie's forehead.
In that instant, Julie felt a refreshing coolness seep into her body.
Your Majesty. This is…
The rune language Deculein taught Us. A tongue of healing, but this curse is not one that can be healed. It is but a temporary alleviation of symptoms, symptomatic treatment.
Ah!
Julie promptly sat up. Sophien shook her head slowly as she watched the knight hurriedly assume proper form.
To rise further would be not courtesy, but rudeness. Remain as thou art.
Yes.
Moreover, it is not fully healed. That curse will one day claim thy life.
…Yes. I know.
The curse was gradually worsening, intensifying. The pain that tore at her heart like claws had become her morning routine.
Seeing thee reminds Us of Our former self.
As if understanding that pain, Sophien gazed at the moon beyond the window and murmured.
Then and now… Perhaps We wish to start everything anew. Knowing nothing at all. Forgetting every memory… This life is ruined.
A wistful lament. Julie flinched and responded.
Speak not such words, Your Majesty. Ruined? Never.
Sophien's gaze returned to her.
Thy curse cannot be healed. In a broader sense, it places thee in a plight akin to Our past self. Dost thou not wish to start anew? Dost thou not think, if only I had not escorted Deculein then?
…
Julie nodded silently. Sophien asked earnestly.
Why?
Because that choice is mine to make, and this life is mine to live.
…
A truly knightly answer.
A small silence settled over the sickroom.
…So it is.
Sophien nodded faintly once or twice, then let slip a tiny smile.
Thou art different from Deculein.
…Am I?
Julie thought of Deculein, her face clouding with melancholy. The hem of Sophien's wide cape coat brushed Julie's fingers.
Indeed. Vastly different. Deculein lives as if there are no wrong answers in his life. He acknowledges no errors, as if his path alone is truth.
…You speak truly, Your Majesty. The Professor is indeed like that.
Yet to embrace even wrongs as thy own share, as thou dost—the more wrongs accumulate, the more wounds thou shalt bear. And thus thou shalt perish.
Sophien sneered coldly. But Julie's response was merely a warm smile.
Your Majesty. Even scarred and wounded, a knight endures. And I am a knight.
…
Sophien stared intently at Julie. It rang true, and that irked her for some reason.
True. Thou art a true knight, but such knights as thee are few.
I thank you for the praise.
It is no praise. Rest easy and depart.
Sophien rose, her coat flapping. Julie insisted on standing to offer a formal bow to her back, and Kairon closed the sickroom door.
Thud—!
Thereafter, they walked the corridor in silence.
Step— step—
Sophien's stately footsteps.
Over them came Kairon's voice.
…Your Majesty. Do you truly desire that?
Sophien halted abruptly. Kairon spoke to her back.
If you wish to start anew, it can be so.
…
I can make it happen.
At last, Sophien turned to face him. Kairon, head bowed, continued.
Your Majesty deserves happiness.
…Hmph. Who says so?
Anyone would say as much. If they knew of Your Majesty—who died dozens of times, suffered decades of agony, attempted suicide dozens of times. All would say it.
What?
Sophien was genuinely taken aback.
Kairon had always been statue-like. Even the talent named by the imperial court was called Statue.
In truth, the medium by which Kairon multiplied his body was a statue.
Kairon. Thou knowest Us not.
I know a little.
Sophien furrowed her brow.
Even if thou thinkest so, thou art speaking impossibly, and far too emotionally.
It is not impossible. Your Majesty, there is an Altar beneath this palace.
Kairon raised his head. His eyes gleamed with a knight's resolve.
They seek to gather and exploit Your Majesty's authority. If we turn that against them, we can return.
Return?
Yes. Your Majesty can know happiness. You can become a new person in a new world, forgetting all the pain thus far.
The Devil's Mirror desires Sophien.
The Altar harvests her authority [regression] from the world within that mirror.
Kairon had conceived a possibility: by turning those two seemingly symbiotic entities against themselves, they could construct a "new world"—a "completely different past."
It stemmed from Deculein's words—that the Devil's Mirror wished to become the "world"—but was an entirely different notion from Deculein's.
In Kairon's scheme, the Devil's Mirror would become the new world, and the Sophien within it would regress anew, stripped of all memories from this life.
If this life was ruined, then truly aim for the next.
What if the same history merely repeats?
Sophien peered into his eyes.
I shall prevent that.
…
…A conversation that went nowhere.
Time frozen still.
Air thick and suffocating.
In that silence, Sophien turned away once more.
Step step.
She had silently dismissed him, and understanding her intent, Kairon stood rigid as a statue in the midst of the corridor.
A dark night.
Back in my office at the tower, I immersed myself. I pondered deeply, sinking into thought.
…If I can comprehend the Devil's Mirror.
I gazed at the mirror atop my desk. I activated Understanding upon that simple glass.
Its properties and nature became clear at once.
Heat sand to extreme temperatures—and though there are intermediate processes—it becomes glass. Curiously, earth and fire are my affinities.
I need more detailed information.
I rose. The tower library would hold tomes on glass or mirrors.
As I stepped into the corridor to board the elevator—
Huh-euh!
Some small creature let out a bizarre gasp.
…
Ifrin.
With a world-weary, haggard face, clutching coffee in one hand.
Without greeting, she backed away stealthily— stealthily—
Ding—!
The elevator arrived.
I turned to her and said,
It seems not unfolding as thou hoped.
…N-no. If I just grasp the clue… I can.
…
I can, somehow, anyway.
The mumbling girl. As I regarded her silently, Ihelm's words suddenly echoed in my ears.
—Pity for Luna's daughter, who pretended to be loved by her father?
Probably… he was right.
Ifrin.
I pity her strangely. Deculein harbors almost no compassion, so this must be a fragment of Kim Woojin.
Why, why are you staring?
Thus, in this world, there are few who evoke fragments of Kim Woojin in me.
For now, only Sylvia, Ifrin, and Yeriel—the three of them. Julie is the precise opposite.
Julie most strongly affirms me as Deculein. She is the bond I cannot reject, the emotion I cannot deny.
Conviction and diligence. Those two virtues suit thee.
…Pardon?
Strive endlessly. And trust in thy future self.
…
Ifrin's eyes widened. I boarded the elevator at once.
Ding—!
Descending to the first floor, there was Julie.
Professor.
…
Julie greeted me with an awkward expression. She was still in light armor.
I approached her.
Julie. Cease thy escort duties henceforth.
No.
What do you mean, no—
I am sorry.
…
That apologetic tone sealed my lips. Biting her lower lip, she continued.
I know my recent ailments hinder my duties as your escort.
…
I am sorry.
I was momentarily dazed. But soon I grasped her meaning, and unwittingly ground my teeth.
Moreover, in the near future, I failed to protect you.
Countless words swirled uselessly in my mouth. A fury boiled from the depths of my chest.
In these eyes, the image of you dying remains vivid. The sword wound piercing your body…
Julie bowed her head. Her voice grew moist, as if damp with tears.
I could not understand her.
Professor. I understand if you are disappointed in me.
This woman, who cannot love herself—why, just why is she such a fool?
I acknowledge all my faults.
I wanted to say,
Thou hast no fault.
We simply should not be together.
But grant me this one duty, at least.
Julie spoke resolutely. Her hand gripped the hilt at her waist tightly.
I shall strive harder. I shall protect you even if my body breaks. I shall not falter—
Julie.
I did not wish to hear more.
Thou art not needed.
!
Julie's breath hitched sharply. She bowed her head, hiding her sorrowful face.
Go now. I have business in the tower library today.
Thus, this foolish woman—I love her.
This maddening emotion—I do not wish to reject it.
I shall await—
Go.
…I am sorry.
And so, Julie departed.
Opening the tower doors, descending that long path.
With unsteady steps, still unhealed.
…
Watching her go, I leaned against the wall. I placed a hand over my heart.
Deculein's resonance was spreading through my body.
Why do you look so?
Then, a voice from somewhere.
Turning, it was Ifrin. Having descended to the first floor unnoticed, she fidgeted before blurting it out.
…I will help.
…
You know what research brings you here, right?
…
I'm Ifrin, your assistant.
Pretending not to have seen the prior encounter? Or ignoring it?
I let out a small sigh.
Thou hast time to spare, then.
Ah, well… Honestly! …I can't. How can I comprehend 30,000 pages in a month? Impossible.
…
That's why you assigned it, isn't it?
I walked wordlessly toward the basement library. Ifrin hurried after.
Pat pat pat pat—
I did not bother stopping her quick steps.
Nor did I remark on her sidelong glances.
…Three hours later.
Are these the ones you meant, Professor?
Ifrin proved moderately helpful.
In the tower library, strewn with hundreds of thousands of tomes, nothing is more tedious than finding the right book.
Yes.
I had ordered every text related to mirror magic.
The Devil's Mirror is, after all, a mirror. Understanding mirrors' properties would surely aid me.
Anything else?
This time, glass. Everything on glass.
Got it~
Glass, glass, glass, glass. Ifrin muttered as she searched for books, and I focused on the tomes.
…Another three hours passed.
By morning.
Professor Deculein.
An imperial knight appeared unannounced in the library, calling me solemnly. I read my magic tome without glancing up.
Professor Deculein.
-Bueh?!
The second call, louder. Ifrin, dozing face-down, jolted awake with drool.
Only then did I turn to them.
The knight said,
His Imperial Majesty summons you.
…Sophien adapts to all things with ease. She learns quickly, masters swiftly.
This "world," this "reason"—neither proves particularly difficult. Indeed, a mere sidelong glance suffices to grasp most of it.
Thus, she has a habit of not thinking deeply. The more she thinks, the more tedious it becomes; the more tedious, the lazier she grows.
…
Yet today—for the first time in ages—she pondered at length. And now she toyed with her hand mirror, tapping it lightly.
Morning had come.
She awaited the one's imminent arrival.
Knock knock—
The emperor's bedchamber. At the knock, Sophien opened the door with Telekinesis. As expected, Deculein stood there.
Thou hast come. Enter.
Yes.
Deculein stepped one foot inside, and the attendants closed the door.
Sit.
Sophien indicated the seat before her. Deculein approached silently and sat.
…
…
Sophien poured coffee into a teacup, and Deculein sat rigidly upright—like etiquette personified.
Sophien spoke first.
Deculein.
Yes.
Today, We have attempted that thing called "thought."
It was Kairon's doing. That damned fool's words had compelled her to "worry"—a vile affliction.
In thinking, We discovered a memory within the mirror long ago. To liken it, 'twas finding a needle in a sand dune.
Sophien sipped her coffee while regarding Deculein.
A distant memory of Ours. There was a presumptuous fool who introduced himself to Us as "Professor."
Deculein's eyes were, as ever, steadfast. It pleased her.
He bowed not, feared not, was bound by nothing—showing only honest self.
That fool vowed to share Our path and end, yet came never again.
Sophien let out a small sigh. A breath akin to laughter.
Had that fool been there. Had he come as promised.
…
We might have endured.
Deculein closed his eyes briefly, then opened them. That reaction sufficed.
Kairon bid Us remake this world.
…Did he?
Indeed. In that world, We could become truly ignorant, a new person—forgetting all suffering endured thus far.
…
A most tempting proposal.
Deculein listened quietly.
…Kairon's intent is admirable. His care for Us moves Us. Yet… if We truly did so.
For some reason, he sensed her next words.
Would it not be defeat to the devil?
Sophien twisted her lips. A cold sneer escaped.
We abhor defeat. To none.
She gazed into her teacup's coffee. Its still surface reflected her.
Thy fiancée Julie called even wrongs her life, and thou livest as if ever right. In this world, countless others carve their own answers besides you two.
Sophien raised her head again.
But none sought to rewrite an already submitted answer.
True.
Indeed… Deculein. We grow sleepy now.
Her eyelids drooped heavily. The toll of prolonged worry and thought, after so long.
When We slumber, the door below shall open…
Sophien half-closed her eyes. Through them, she saw Deculein's face.
A countenance owing no debt to sleep—cold and resolute.
We ask thee. With none to watch, We suffered.
She spoke her heart honestly.
In that depths below, wilt thou witness Our form, Our myriad deaths…? Wilt thou remain in Our memory…?
Deculein answered without hesitation. He would, assuredly.
Yet to Sophien, his voice already faded faintly.
Gradually, consciousness submerged.
It may be decades, or a century… Even We know not what life We shall live. Is that well…?
Deculein's voice seeped into her ears.
—Yes. As promised before, I shall accompany Your Majesty through every step. Without fail.
His voice spread murkily, as if underwater.
—And at the end of that path, return here once more.
Yet words like certainty followed.
—To stand before Your Majesty.
Haaaah…
Sophien replied with a yawn. As she slept, Deculein watched quietly, then rose.
Now, the time had come to truly keep his promise.