There Is No Paradise of Pure Happiness
I strolled the island alongside Sylvia. She guided me here and there.
"That's the curry restaurant. It's quite popular."
The island resembled a modern Mediterranean landscape. The deep blue, vivid sea and peaceful village seemed modeled directly after it.
-Sylvia killed the Professor!
Suddenly, Ifrin's relayed message came to mind.
Thanks to The Villain's Fate, my deaths had become something of an annual event. I wondered just how many times I had died and come back to life.
"Over there is the gallery. A picture gallery."
Sylvia pointed to a spot. It was a small wooden building.
"……."
"……."
Then, silence fell abruptly. Sylvia stopped walking and looked up at me quietly.
I asked,
"……Do you have something to say?"
"My paintings are in there."
"And?"
"……."
Sylvia puffed out her cheeks. Then she shot back curtly.
"Aren't you curious?"
I examined her gallery with the Naked Eye. There were no special traps.
"Let us enter."
"Yes."
Sylvia nodded. We headed toward the gallery.
She opened the small door first.
Thud—
She stepped inside.
I surveyed the gallery calmly. There were many canvases: landscapes, portraits, still lifes, abstracts.
"What do you think?"
"……."
Sylvia asked. At that moment, I was overcome with a dusty sentiment.
The art hanging on the gallery walls. Sylvia's paintings, as felt through my aesthetic sense, were perfect.
"You shall become a fine painter."
Sylvia shrugged wordlessly. I moved across the gallery carpet, appreciating the works.
A still life of sunflowers. A landscape of a distant empire's magic tower. A self-portrait of herself with golden blonde hair and golden eyes.
"Once upon a time, I too dreamed of being a painter."
"Even you had a dream."
Sylvia walked a step behind me.
"No one lives without dreams."
"Dreams."
"Indeed."
At that moment, I turned to Sylvia. She had matured like a finished masterpiece.
It had been only a year since she left the magic tower.
"A painter was my dream. Thus, I envy you now."
"You envy me."
Sylvia echoed my words. I smiled faintly and gazed at her canvases. I appreciated them with these eyes.
"Perfect aesthetically, artistically, and popularly."
"……."
"Intuitive brushstrokes. A sense for color usage. The way you interpret subjects and pour them onto canvas."
I turned my head. My eyes, which had been on the works, now took in Sylvia again.
"I approve of it all utterly."
"……."
Sylvia nodded. She gazed at me intently, then conjured another canvas and easel. She poured paint and brush onto it.
Scrape, scrape, scrape.
A painting of me, as she looked upon me.
"Sylvia."
She peeked her face over the easel.
"I told you not to call me by name with that mouth—"
"Do not turn back."
"……."
Her hand froze. She cleared her throat lightly. Then, moving the brush again, she said,
"I cannot."
"The reason?"
"Because this island is a 'wave spreading from one point.'"
"……."
Her words held a very small clue.
I thought I understood its meaning.
"I wished you had not come here."
Scrape. Sylvia set down her brush. Then she turned the easel around.
I looked at myself captured on the canvas and said,
"You are the center of the Voice."
* * *
The 'concept' of a wave is the 'phenomenon' of vibrations spreading from a single point in matter or space.
Thus, the Voice was a phenomenon, and simultaneously a concept.
Yet the Voice harbored desires beyond that. It yearned to become something it lacked: 'substance.' It chose Sylvia as its vessel. And Sylvia willingly accepted.
In that way, Sylvia became the center of the Voice.
Click—! Flicker—!
A dark night. Lights flickered on along the roadside lamps. The gathered people around them smiled brightly and clapped.
"The technology here is still rudimentary. Even streetlights amaze them."
Sylvia explained their reactions. The island was newly born, so the residents rejoiced even at mere streetlights.
"There must be some who originally lived on the continent."
"They are busy. They intend to take the lingering demonic power here and return."
"Treasure hunting?"
"Yes. Grimoires. Trait tomes. Undead manuals. Necromancer robes. And more, scattered all over the island. Interested?"
I shook my head.
"I was once. But I reached a conclusion. There is no meaning in growing strong by borrowing demonic power."
"……."
Sylvia nodded as well. Then she looked up at me and asked,
"Are you hungry?"
I regarded her face.
Golden eyes dry as dust, lips pressed firmly. She showed no expression.
"Eating would not be unwelcome."
At my words, a faint change came to her eyes. They trembled slightly. As if a little pleased.
"Yes. Follow me."
She spun around gracefully. I followed her down the dark path.
"Sylvia."
I called her name. Her steps halted abruptly. She glared at me with furrowed brows.
"That's the third time already. I will not tolerate a fourth."
"Sylvia."
"……."
I am not one to heed such prohibitions. Neither commands, threats, nor coercion sway Deculein.
"Whether you tolerate it or not is of no concern."
I approached Sylvia. I loomed over her from inches away.
"No, do not tolerate it."
Sylvia remained expressionless. I observed her state as well.
"……."
"……."
"……."
"……."
We stood wordless for a long while, but Sylvia smirked first, twisting her lips.
"The demon inside me will not emerge."
At those words, I furrowed my brow slightly.
"So it is true that you have 'devoured' the Voice, Sylvia."
"……."
I deliberately called her name. Sylvia's shoulders trembled, but she said nothing more.
"A curious affair."
Sylvia had confessed in the gallery that she was the center of the Voice.
Thus, she could not leave this island. She must not. For the Voice would spread across the continent.
Yet within that, Sylvia had added one thing.
That she had 'devoured' the demon.
"Yes. I did not lose. I won."
Sylvia is no Yukline. She harbors no purpose of exterminating demons.
Yet the Illayde are no naive house either.
Sylvia had accepted the Voice into her body but did not yield to it. Instead, she devoured it.
"You have no business here."
Sylvia said. I nodded.
There is no demonic energy on this island. Thus, sustaining the island, reviving the extinct race and the dead—all stem from Sylvia's power.
"The echo phenomenon on the continent will soon fade. I will make it so."
"……."
Just then, we arrived at the restaurant. It was a dining establishment. As we opened the door, a server guided us.
"Veal steak. One red wine."
"Yes, Miss Sylvia."
Sylvia ordered as we sat. She pointed to the server entering the kitchen.
"An adventurer who originally lived on the continent. She settled here."
"I see. Devoid of ambition."
"I will not draw outsiders here."
Sylvia spoke as if negotiating. I tilted my gaze upon her.
"I will ensure no other incidents occur on this island."
Suddenly, Ifrin's voice echoed in my ear.
-Sylvia killed the Professor!
For some reason, I felt I understood the motive.
"So leave me be like this."
The food arrived just then. Tender steak. I sliced along the grain with my knife. But Sylvia's cuts were clumsy.
No, her body lacked strength.
I swapped her plate with mine.
"……."
Sylvia looked at me with slight surprise. As I cut the steak again, I said,
"It is efficient. Since your body seems weak, I cut it for you and swap plates. This way, even if poison lurks only in mine, we are prepared."
Then Sylvia's face twisted sharply. The first intense expression she showed.
"Madman. There is no poison."
Sylvia ate the steak pointedly. I took a piece as well.
"Moreover, to answer your words."
I put the meat in my mouth. Swallowed cleanly, then spoke.
"That I cannot do."
"……."
"I shall surely find a way to utterly annihilate the Voice and bring you back to the continent."
"……No."
Sylvia shook her head. I cut her off.
"Cielia is here, is she not? Is it for her sake?"
"……."
Then Sylvia's hand, gripping the knife, trembled.
"Then I shall ask."
As if knowing what I would say, her breath grew ragged. She glared at me with eyes thick with resentment.
"If I kill her—"
Bang—!
Sylvia slammed the table and rose. Tears already welled in her eyes.
"……What is the problem? There are no demons here anymore."
"No. The demon lingers yet in your body. I will find a way to dismantle it, and when I do, this island, the extinct race, the dead—all shall collapse. The death of the Voice and Cielia is the natural sequence."
"……."
"Sylvia."
I rose as well. I met her eyes.
"Do not flee reality."
"……."
"Cielia is already dead."
"You killed her."
Suddenly, pity stirred for her.
It was fact. I had killed Cielia with these hands, and I had no intent to justify it.
Sylvia ground her teeth, muttering as if spitting blood.
"You killed her."
"……Indeed."
"Your fault. You—"
"Then, continue hating me and live."
I cut her words.
Strangely, sympathy welled.
"Why did you flee?"
This was Kim Woojin's heart.
In this girl now, I saw the old Kim Woojin. She was trying to flee, just as I once had.
"……."
Her breath trembled. Sorrow dwelled in those deep eyes.
The server closed the kitchen door.
"You did not wish to flee."
"……."
Flight.
At Sylvia's question, I pondered briefly. She asked not Kim Woojin, but Deculein.
Yet in the end, it applied to both.
"Because of Illayde, the one you love died."
She already knew that fact.
Such an intelligent child could not be ignorant.
"Escape is the easiest path. I know it well."
I answered. Words I had never confessed even to Yuarra, but this girl shared a 'similar loss.'
"I tried fleeing a little."
Not long, nor short. Each moment gazing at her coffin felt unreal.
I slept countless times a day. I forced dreams to evade reality.
"Yet in the end, I accepted it. That she had died."
"……."
Now, before me stood one trying to flee a bit longer than I had.
"I faced it squarely. And buried it in my heart."
I took a step toward her.
But I had no illusion of persuading her with mere words.
"Likely, the demon revived Yuarra here because of me."
Sylvia's body flinched.
"Forcing a choice upon me. Just as with you."
I sneered. I shook my head slowly, twisting my lips.
"But Sylvia. I do not flee. Dozens of times, hundreds—I shall recall my love and die."
Sylvia gasped.
"Thus, I shall kill Cielia here."
Her face showed fear as she stepped back.
"You, harbor that grudge and live hating me forever."
No. A faint mutter scattered, and I seized the shoulders of the girl trying to flee once more.
"Thus, do not flee."
"……."
"Listen well."
I told her. A simple truth I had learned living as Deculein, and as Kim Woojin.
"In no world exists a paradise of pure happiness."