Star's Tear (3)
As expected, the village chief had a severe trauma from the spell called Star's Tear.
The world called her the Star's Guide, saying that the great mage Agnes had massacred thousands of monsters with her tremendous magic, saving countless villagers and lords.
But among those massacred were the great mage Agnes's own comrades.
Its power was so overwhelming that she couldn't gauge it properly.
I understood.
Even the person who developed the atomic bomb felt terror and anguish at its power, trying to stop further nuclear weapon development afterward.
Originally, it should have been a strategy where her comrades held the pass while she completed the incantation to repel the invading enemies.
But the magic's power was too immense, sweeping away even the allies who'd been fighting by her side just moments before.
What must that guilt and terror have felt like back then?
What fueled her fear and guilt even more was that her comrades didn't die right away.
Those caught in the heat and storm had their bodies shattered, sliced, and burned all over, she said.
Even the ones who could cast healing magic were swept up, so the village chief tried wrapping their wounds with every piece of clothing she had and using everything at her disposal to restore them.
It was all in vain.
A great mage who wielded such powerful magic with her vast knowledge couldn't even recognize a single herb that could save a life.
As a result, she endured her comrades' groans—whether curse or consolation—for three days and nights.
She kept up the futile treatment until soldiers arrived later and confirmed their deaths.
Having had a similar experience myself, I could somewhat understand that pain.
Is killing a patient groaning in unrelenting agony, with no hope of survival, truly for their sake?
Or is it for their sake to never give up and keep them alive even a little longer?
Suppose that patient is someone you love. Could you end it with your own hands?
Or, hoping to save them even a bit, could you tell them to endure the pain and live?
It's not a question with an easy answer.
That's why it's such a tormenting dilemma.
A dilemma that leaves scars of pain.
"This time... I adjusted it carefully.
I aimed where you weren't. I swear it.
Please believe me."
"I'm really fine.
This wound's from fighting demons, I tell you.
Sigh..."
While getting my wounds healed at the village chief's house, she was making a fuss over even the smallest scratches.
Still, since a living village chief was better than the dead, I let her treat me without complaint, thinking I should look after her condition more.
The sun had risen, but there was still much to do.
I had to bury the dead villagers.
Once the treatment was done, I'd move right away.
Even with her trauma turning her into a whiner, she was still a warm-hearted person.
"Even with such painful memories, you used magic for my sake."
"……."
Ah, did I say something unnecessary?
She suddenly went quiet.
The village chief wrapped the bandage around my arm in silence for a long while.
"You know it well too. To achieve what you desire, you need a resolve of your own."
I knew. I had no choice but to know.
I'm not a child who gets mochi just for crying anymore.
That's what growing up means.
You endure the pains, hold them in, and before you know it, you're broken without realizing.
I pulled the village chief into my arms.
"...Kirgil, what the—?! S-suddenly...!"
This frail body in my arms—I could finally sense the heart with which she'd returned here, and the immense pain and resolve it took to drop Star's Tear.
Staggering into the village as noona, standing before my house.
How terrified must she have been?
How frightening must it have been to search for me amid that explosion?
"If you suddenly do this to me..."
Did I want to soothe her wounds?
Or do something for her?
I hugged her without thinking.
But now that I held her, it felt less like I was healing her
and more like I was the one being healed.
Finally, her scent rose like fragrance—not blood or scorch, but the village chief's own.
Her body heat slowly warmed my heart, chilled by so many deaths.
Stroking her hair felt like petting a cute animal, easing my mind.
Above all, the village chief flustered in my arms right now was utterly lovable.
"Ki-Kirgil... Th-this sis is also rea... ready..."
At times like this, I wanted to correct her—not sis, but cozy noona.
"Agnes n..."
Suddenly, all tension in body and mind melted away.
Without realizing, my consciousness...
"Uh... what?"
A large bed.
The village chief's bed.
The window outside was faintly red.
The sun was setting.
I must have slept at least half a day.
I rubbed my face with my hand to clear my head.
Tension released, and I passed out without knowing.
Yesterday, I'd pushed my body beyond limits in battle,
and done cruel work until dawn.
Being with the village chief had snapped the taut tension in an instant.
But why was I naked?
"No way!?"
I threw off the blanket—and there was the village chief!!
"Huh, she's clothed."
Guess it wasn't a mistake in the chaos.
Looking closely at my body, I saw ointments plastered here and there, bandages wrapped around.
Suddenly, I recalled the village chief urgently calling me before I lost consciousness.
"Ah, I've worried you unintentionally again."
I saw the bedsheet around the sleeping village chief's eyes soaked through.
She must've thought I'd suffered some major unseen wound and died.
I carefully slipped out without waking her.
It was a relief she was asleep.
This task, I had to do alone.
I dug pits in the hill behind the village.
Sunset came midway, so I lit torches nearby and kept working.
Once all the pits were ready, I laid the villagers I'd lived with until just days ago into them one by one.
I carefully gathered severed limbs too, burying them together.
The village chief would probably find even watching this hard.
She'd known them longer than I had, including kids like Kras she'd doted on since childhood.
In truth, the explosion around my house hadn't just damaged monsters—it mangled quite a few villagers' bodies too.
If she saw that, her heart would break anew with every corpse.
So I buried every villager one by one, even marking wooden plaques with their names.
Not just for the village chief, but for the villagers who'd return soon—I wanted to show them neat graves, not the horribly mutilated bodies they'd hate to remember.
So anyone could visit without burden, remember their names, and cherish their memories.
That was the least honor I could give the dead now.
Finishing all, I looked to the sky. Unlike yesterday, it brimmed with stars, as if they'd pour down.
Far off, shooting stars streaked quickly.
The faces of the villagers I'd just buried came to mind one by one.
Even Kras and Shtai's...
Were these shooting stars Star's Tear?
Or my tears?
Returning covered in dirt, I found the village chief crouched by the door, waiting—unclear how long she'd been up.
"You've worked so hard.
I heated bathwater behind the house—go wash up."
She seemed to know what I'd done.
Unlike our world with instant taps, boiling bathwater here took real effort.
Not something you prepare on a whim.
After washing in hot water for the first time in ages, she applied more ointment and rebandaged me.
"……."
"……."
We were both silent.
Something told me speaking now would unleash a flood of emotions.
Treatment done, she stood blankly before me as I sat on the bed's edge.
Seemed she had something to say, so I waited quietly.
"……."
"……."
The silence stretched endlessly.
I kept waiting, unsure how long.
But I couldn't wait anymore.
The village chief had started crying.
The village was still just us two.
We had only each other to comfort now.
I pulled her into my arms again, receiving her tears like yesterday.
Only then did she speak.
"When you called my name and fainted.
Do you know how much I hoped?
Do you know how much I despaired?
And then you left without a word...
I... I..."
"...Sorry. I just couldn't tell you, village chief."
"I know. I know what you did.
Still... still... when I opened my eyes, you were gone.
I reached out, but nothing was there.
That emptiness.
It hurt so much.
It..."
The village chief began sobbing uncontrollably, unable to speak.
Knowing what I'd done must've unleashed not just feelings for me, but grief for the dead all at once.
Tonight, it seemed I'd melt away the knots in her heart together with her.