Chapter 158
Chapter 158
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter Title: Ronellia
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A distant wail struck her ears.
"Don't throw me away... please..."
It was the plea of a young child. A heartbreaking cry soaked in loneliness.
"I'll do anything..."
The sound grated on her nerves. If she could, she would have covered her ears.
She didn't hate children or anything. She wasn't some cold-blooded monster incapable of empathizing with others' sorrow.
But simply listening to the crying made unpleasant sensations from past memories resurface.
That's why it grated.
KABOOM! Crunch!
The cries were replaced by even louder noises. Gunshots rang out, followed by several explosions.
What silenced the child's sobs wasn't warm affection, but greater fear.
...
The child trapped in a cage no bigger than a single mat froze in anxiety, holding her breath.
A deafening roar she'd never heard before. The acrid smell of gunpowder, sniffed for the first time in her life, wafted in through the vent.
"Aaaagh!"
A piercing scream.
It was the scream of the researcher who had been injecting her with needles just yesterday.
The child trembled in unprecedented terror. Fear of the unknown.
Her world was narrow. In her world, the scariest things were the researchers and the instructors who forcibly trained her. The little girl locked in the cage knew no greater fears.
But those very people...
The ones she feared and dreaded most in the world were now screaming in real time beyond the door. They might even be dead.
Her already pale face drained of even more color. This was far more terrifying than the knives slicing her flesh or the needles longer than her fingers piercing her body.
"Mr. Fergus..."
Help me.
Prostrated on the floor, she instinctively sought the old man who was no longer here.
The researchers who treated her body like an object while spouting nonsense, the instructors who yelled and wielded violence, the mother who sold her daughter for a few coins—none of them would help her.
But the old man who had once shown her warm affection just might.
The child curled up tightly on the cold, hard floor, groaning amid the explosions, gunpowder stench, and screams.
"Hic, sob..."
How much time passed like that? Eventually, the screams died down, and the hinges of the iron door—that had cut her off from the world—creaked open.
"...A test subject? Right before disposal."
The man who appeared from beyond the door was a young man with a cold demeanor. His gaze on the child in the tiny cage was emotionless.
The child felt a strange familiarity in that look. Similar to how the researchers had regarded her, yet directed somewhere else entirely.
"Please... spare me..."
Shivering, the child looked up at the man. She had no mother, no researchers, no instructors, no old man left anymore.
"I'll do anything..."
"Anything?"
"Yes..."
The man narrowed his eyes in surprise. A girl of barely ten was groveling, fully aware of her plight, bowing low.
"...Fine. I'll take you in. Do you have a name?"
"Ronellia..."
"I'm Colton Keil. Call me Colton."
The man's eyes on the child remained cold and mechanical.
But even that was salvation to her.
The treatment of the child, Ronellia, was astonishing.
Contrary to expectations that she'd be sent to some orphanage with minimal support, Ronellia was adopted as Colton's foster daughter. Even she hadn't anticipated it.
No more living like a lab rat in a tiny cage. Instead of a hard floor, she had a soft bed. Instead of dog food, luxurious meals were served. Her standard of living had transformed beyond recognition.
"From today, your name is Ronel. Ronel Keil."
From that day, the child received a new name.
She learned to write and read, to add and subtract.
To devour books, to judge and think for herself.
From how to cut meat with fork and knife, to how to move her body and wield weapons.
Unlike the education in the lab, it was humane elite training, but it still pushed her body to the brink all the same.
Yet the child never complained. Even if her knees bled from rolling on the training ground, she stood back up. Even if she pulled all-nighters past sunset, she read.
But she lacked talent. Her martial prowess fell short of the upper tiers, and her mind wasn't exceptionally sharp.
She clearly heard the mansion servants whispering about her. Anxiety gnawed at the impatient girl.
Hadn't she already been abandoned once by her mother and twice by Fergus? She didn't want to be discarded again.
That was when it happened.
"Don't be so hasty. For your age, that's already average."
A cold tone.
But content that didn't match it at all—warm.
At Colton's encouragement, the child's eyes widened round.
His expression resembled the terrifying researchers'. Yet his words evoked the warmth of Fergus, whom she had once relied on.
Two incompatible atmospheres coexisting. The child remembered.
Craving human warmth in the narrow, dark lab—those memories.
Memories as the little girl Ronellia trapped in the cage.
From that day, after finishing her daily routine, the child sought out Colton.
At first, he received her perfunctorily, but her persistent visits eventually increased their time together.
Colton was a rising star in politics. No one but the association's heavyweights could sit at his table.
Yet before long, a little girl was sitting there too.
Climbing onto the chair with her short legs, she sat across from Colton, boasting about her training achievements over dinner.
Each time, Colton praised her in his usual dry tone.
It could pass for a father and daughter at dinner. Since he'd adopted her, it wasn't wrong.
She grew more spoiled, but Colton didn't curb it.
Sometimes she even acted cute, just like a child her age.
In those moments, the perpetual coldness in Colton's eyes warmed—not an illusion.
The child realized for the first time what happiness was. The affection she'd longed for, finally.
She wished this moment would last forever.
As one human. As a little girl who loved being loved. She hoped this somewhat unfamiliar but ordinary daily life would be eternal.
However.
"Ronel, live not as a human, but for humanity."
Colton wanted her to live not as a human, but for humanity.
Not as one human, but as one of humanity.
Not as the little child craving affection in the lab cage, but as one more loyal to humanity than anyone, acting for the city's future.
The child realized the source of the eerie familiarity in Colton's cold gaze. It was obsession bordering on madness.
Blind obsession to right the center, unite humanity, and eradicate threats beyond the barrier.
Fighting scared her. Pain hurt, and she hated hurt.
But what if she said no here?
If she said she wanted to bury herself in peace, in ordinary daily life.
She just wanted to live as an ordinary human.
Not as Ronel for humanity, but as the ordinary little girl Ronellia.
Growing up loved, not much different from others, living the life she wanted.
But.
The child could only nod.
She didn't want to disappoint the man who saved her from hell. Hadn't she sworn to him before coming here that she'd do anything?
Above all, being abandoned again was worse than death. Disappointing him might mean discard once more.
"...Yes. I understand."
From that day, the child resolved to become not Ronellia, but Ronel.
She hid the frail child Ronellia deep in her heart, striving to live as the Ronel Colton wanted.
But her timid nature fearing violence remained. Traces of the scared child crying in the cage lingered somewhere in her bedroom.
Yet with the sole thought of not disappointing him, she threw herself into the world of violence.
She carried out missions without sparing her body, eliminating obstacles under the banner of humanity. She did things she couldn't proudly admit in public.
She wanted to live as Ronellia, but couldn't.
She couldn't fully become Ronel either. She tried to live as Colton desired, but couldn't shed the habits of fearing violence and craving affection. Even as her body grew, she remained a child longing for love.
She grumbled and nitpicked constantly, dragging out her words in an undignified manner. At dangerous missions, she'd pout visibly and act spoiled.
No matter how you looked, she was far from what Colton pursued. But he didn't mind much.
She griped, but followed orders without backtalk.
And more than that—when danger struck, she acted first.
It was true.
She was the one who shot Betty during the standoff with the refugees.
She was the first to pull the trigger when Anis went berserk among the heroes.
When the front lines collapsed and heroes scattered, she rallied them and charged boldly.
In situations where death loomed, she always acted without hesitation.
She was a spoiled child and a soldier who spared not her body for humanity. At some point, she'd become a mix of Ronellia and Ronel.
"........."
Finally, the child opened her eyes.
Beneath her half-crushed vision, blood-soaked dirt greeted her.
"Cough."
She saw a magic beast charging with claws raised. With no strength left, she forcibly twisted her body to dodge.
Skree!
Barely grazed by the claws, a sound came from beyond. A wail pursuing pain, filled only with violence. A sound terrifying enough to make her body tremble every time.
Do you know?
The truth is, I wanted to live as a human more than anyone.
Not as one of countless humanity, but as an ordinary yet special single human.
I feared violence. Getting hurt terrified me more. Fighting anyone was loathsome.
But I fought.
Because disappointing you scared me more.
Being abandoned again was too frightening.
So, I've even thought this once.
When everything ends.
After uniting humanity as you wished and victorious over the demons.
Then, how about suggesting we live as humans together?
As father Colton, uniquely yet kindly affectionate, and daughter Ronellia, timid and willful but full of charm.
Yeah.
A bit late, maybe.
But if that day comes someday.
Let's have a proper talk then.
Suggest living not as one of humanity, but as single humans.
I've thought that.
If that day comes.
What would you say?
...Who knows.
Come to think of it, we never had such deep conversations.
Your past.
Why you decided to become an association executive.
What made you hate the central powers.
From such trivial things.
Why you took in a girl with no special talent like me.
What you thought of me.
Come to think of it, I knew nothing about you.
I never asked anything about you.
Maybe I was scared.
Scared of digging too deep and being abandoned.
Will you remember me?
The me without pretense, whole.
Ronellia, the ordinary, scared little girl no different from others.
...Probably not. Human Ronellia will fade forgotten by all.
After all, I never told anyone.
I lived as Ronel, ever faithful to humanity, not the timid, lonely Ronellia.
Hiding my frail heart deep inside, pretending to be strong.
Especially before you.
Having lived that way, you'd think dying like this satisfies me. Maybe even applaud my noble sacrifice.
But no.
I don't want to die like this.
Even if I lived as one of humanity, at least dying—I want to die as a human.
As a single human remembered by someone.
Yeah.
I want you to know.
Remember the child Ronellia and grieve for her.
Others maybe not, but at least you.
Not as Ronel, but as Ronellia.
The child regretted.
Still whimpering in the tiny cage.
If I'd known, I should've at least said something.
Always too scared for my own good...
And then.
To the magic beast's claws now right before her, the child—
..........
...Ah. The flames.
"Isn't that the kid you cherished? How's it feel?"
"........."
"Whoa, what's with that face? This is genuinely surprising. Even a cold-blooded guy like you must feel something now?"
"......An emotion a psychopath like you couldn't comprehend."
"Heh heh. Still can't resist a retort in a moment like this. Wonder what she was thinking as she died? Regret? Despair? Aren't you curious? Huh?"
"...She wouldn't have regretted it. She seemed soft on the outside, but her heart was as strong as steel. The path she walked proves..."
"Puhahaha!"
Camilla burst into laughter. Not for any particular reason.
Just Colton's mournful reaction amused her. She couldn't help laughing.
"How is it? Smell the cherry blossoms? Puhaha! I can."
Camilla smirked slyly. Colton's face flushed with rage.
"...Shut up."
His brow furrowed deeply. In anguish.
"Don't mock that child's death... Ronel's death."
A torrent of emotions poured from his glare at Camilla.
He who always maintained a cool poker face couldn't contain the erupting feelings now.
Camilla beamed at the sight, elegantly spreading her arms toward the monitor.
Behold.
Isn't the scent of cherry blossoms beautiful?