Chapter 305
Chapter 305
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 15
Chapter Title: Can One Who Has Seen the End of the World Plant an Apple Tree? (10)
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****
I feel like I'm dying.
“The desert really is a hot place, isn't it? You're sweating so much.”
“Ah, well... a bit...”
“Hehe. That's why desert folk mostly stay indoors unless there's something urgent. Even a single ray of light sneaking through a tiny hole heats up the whole room, so they weave colorful threads into carpets in sealed houses without windows, or tan the hides of desert creatures, or prepare all sorts of fruits.”
“Th-that... sounds pretty ni—"
“And in those quiet, still moments, thoughts start to multiply. The men mourn—or resent—those who fell by their side or at the tip of their blades. The elders and old women ponder what they must teach the children who will grow in this parched land, the stories they must share. And the woman drawing her beloved... she lets memories rise like heat haze, connects the stars pouring down to sketch his face. She cherishes that longing, filling the empty space in her heart with her imaginings just as they are. Even knowing that when they meet again, no matter how grandly she pictured him, his true form will be far more beautiful and precious.”
“Cough!”
“Oh dear. Doesn't the tea suit your taste?”
“N-no, it's very, very good...”
“Don't speak so formally? Words are the refined inner self, and honorifics are expressions that diminish oneself. To me, who wants to hold you endlessly in my arms, even that restraint feels regrettable. Come on, call me 'Anaya~'.”
“Uh, w-well...”
“...If there's still distance in your heart, shall I close it a bit more?”
Swish—
“Ah, Anaya! Miss Anaya! Over there!!!”
“Hehe. Hearing my name, which I only whispered to myself, from the lips of the one I love... it's more heart-fluttering than I imagined?”
...I feel like I'm dying. I'm gonna die! I'm dying! I'm gonna fucking die!!!!
No idea how she knew and waited, but Anaya was there in the first village we reached after entering the desert.
In front of the captain and the crew, she declared in a soft yet firm tone that she was borrowing me, and when the captain fretted, wondering if our taboo had been exposed, she dismissed it with, “He knows my name.”
“Name?”
“The name...?!”
“W-we were wondering why someone from the west came all the way to this dangerous great desert! So there was a reason!”
“Captain! Don't you think we need to change plans a bit? At least give us one night...”
“Ugh...”
Amid the crew's cheers, their odd expectations, and the party ignoring my desperate pleading eyes, I was helplessly dragged to Anaya's tent.
Into a thick tent that completely blocked the sunlight.
Into a bed adorned with gorgeous silk and translucent canopies, amid the sweet scent of a hookah.
Just the two of us!
God, Buddha, Jesus, Roham, protect me—I've worn out every prayer! Arghhh!
Me, human Professor Park. The master crisis manager, famed cliffhanger gambler.
Over those four days sailing the desert sands, I'd mobilized every brain cell from countless past crises to prepare dozens of simulations for encountering Anaya and countermeasures, even role-playing them in Hydra's mental space to drill them into my tongue.
[J-just calm down. S-settle your heart! Rakshasha approach, S38 scenario! We're prepared! F-first, manly serious face, grab her shoulders with both hands and push back, th-then the next line... uh...]
“Looks like you like the mint tea? It's refreshing, right?”
“Uh... yeah...”
“It's the tea desert women favor to cool their excited hearts while waiting. I've drunk a lot of it myself.”
Pour—
Swish—slap!
“Guh!”
[Guh!]
But. In this tent with no table, sitting side by side on the soft bed, the moment Rakshasha leaned over to pour tea and her shoulder touched my arm!
[C-command center, command center! Wh-what do I do in this—]
[Beeeep—]
“Hydra, don't leave me! Hydra!”
Every contingency protocol from [A-1] to [Ha-50] ascended straight to the heavens.
Unlike her outdoor garb that covered all but her eyes in bare skin-hiding cloth, the desert woman's indoor attire was... quite breathable, light, with airy silk that looked so cool, damn...
Even in the dim tent, the moment Anaya's glossy, sun-kissed bare shoulder touched my arm, that sensation—the soft, slightly moist bare skin's warmth—was pure fuuuuuck—
---------
- Holy: Ding dong!
- Holy: Ding dong! Ding dong! Ding dong! Ding dong!
- Holy: Ding dong! Ding dong! Ding dong! Ding dong! Ding dong! Ding dong! Ding dong! Ding dong! Ding dong! Ding dong! Ding dong!
- Holy: Yaaaaaa!
- Holy: alkjaweiojaflkdf.xvcn.xvc;iaj;
- Holy: Professor! You playboy! Look here! Heeeere!!! Clap clap clap clap!
---------
“Gasp!”
“...My lord?”
“Th-the tea! Mainland mint tea really is amaaazing!”
Gulp gulp gulp gulp!
Right before losing it completely, the chat exploding upward in my peripheral vision snapped me back.
‘This isn't a game, this isn't a game!’
Chanting it like a mantra, the Professor quickly scanned the chat participants.
Speed Wagon? Absent. I'd told Dana to act in ways that help clear quickly without burdening, and she'd promised to step aside.
Rakshasha, or Anaya Tam Shandea, is my one and only desert connection. Falling out with her would make this desert trip hell, so maintaining a 'good relationship' with her fits Dana's 'help clear' directive. Half-approved, even...
‘Think, Professor. Think, think!’
She's an info broker. Survived from the apocalypse's start on that title alone in this blood-and-gunpowder hell.
Her, step aside? Won't watch 'cause it's burdensome?
Bet you anything: the famed info broker Speed Wagon could monitor me more thoroughly and from more angles than anyone here, if she wanted.
‘She's watching. Not in chat, but probably in a dark hospital room, stroking a busted drone on her wheelchair, eyes gleaming!’
Picturing that super-real scenario cooled me right down. Damn. Came fully prepped and nearly one-shot.
---------
- Take a Look: Tch!
- Jokasss: I stayed quiet on purpose, and you still had to interfere.
- Holy: Interfere?! We're not strangers to Dana! After seeing that convo last time, you say that?! You trash!
---------
Snapping to, I took the cool tea with bleary eyes and gulped it down, feeling my mind clear enough to think.
As Anaya quietly poured beside me, frowning her smooth brow, she leaned closer, her voice trembling faintly.
“By any chance... is my attention... burdensome...?”
[Guhhh!]
A voice soft with moisture, pitiful enough to make a psychopathic serial killer drop the knife for flowers. Unlike her bold moves earlier, Anaya cautiously reached out as if asking permission, tracing the seal above my collarbone again.
“Did you know? Among the many imaginings I've drawn of you inside me... this was one of them. Professor. Soft yet tough, hiding deep feelings behind shallow actions, skilled yet endlessly pure. Body and heart are one, so if the body drifts, the heart follows. It's no rarity for good men to attract many women.”
Swish—
Following her fingertips, the curse seal slithered like a living thing into her palm. Anaya—or Rakshasha—alternated between the intricate pattern and the Professor's face, sighing softly.
Curse seal, [Eight Strands of Fire]
Sounds impressive, but anyone who's dabbled in ancient curses can do it—simple stuff.
As simple as its effect: drawn in eight lines, it shifts form based on the target's psyche, no fixed patterns, so the caster infers roughly. Basic interrogation curse.
Interpreting it is way harder than casting, so it fell out of use. But its simplicity makes tampering obvious, so her profession favors it.
Interpretations vary by person, not super accurate. But the seal stuck to the Professor for so long...
“...How pitiful.”
At least, it wasn't the flustered joy of reuniting lovers. Meaning his heart had drifted far from her side.
****
Rakshasha swept back her hair, seeing the man's face mix panic, guilt, and hesitation like he had big news.
‘Did I rush too much?’
Long ago, her curse master had divined for fun. Divination's all interpretation, results vary wildly by view.
[Advance toward the well between Cyan and Dopplon's stars. Your true love will find you slumbering there, call your hidden name after long waiting, warm you with his heat.]
Vague, sure. So she'd waited like flowing sand for their streams to meet.
But when her subordinate gasped that “he” entered the desert, she'd ditched calm patience, guessed the divination meant this nearest oasis, rushed prep.
“...Anaya. Truth is, I have something to tell you...”
Uncharacteristically trailing off, fumbling yet resolute, she bit her lip. This won't do. Can't be rest for my pure love if I crush his heart like stone.
Unable to meet his eyes, Rakshasha looked up, gently wrapping his hesitant rough hand on her shoulder.
“I know?”
“The truth is...?”
Slipping in precisely to cut him off—her bad habit from pressuring talks, unfit for a lover. But she didn't want his next words, so she wedged in softly each time.
“How could I not? Though we've not shared bodies or deepest whispers, as one who calls you lover, how could I miss your heart?”
“...I never meant for you to—”
“Shhh. No guilt, no apologies. If I burden your heart, nothing sadder. Heavy steps sink in sand. Desert women take farewells lightly?”
Better free than forced burden.
“And as one who saw your heroic side long ago... I'm prepared to welcome a sister sharing your bed?”
“...Huh?”
And.
Blow away the broken bond, forge a new one.
“Deserts are perilous; men die easy. Lone women struggle here, so dead men's sworn brothers or kin take simple marriages to support them—not rare.”
Rakshasha smiled faintly at the Professor's baffled face.
“Any children?”
“Wh-what?”
“Children. Your heir, son or daughter. Has she who stole your heart borne your seed? If we share a man, who’s elder sister?”
Pffft!
Cough, cough. Gack, heave!
“Oh my. Shall I wipe you?”
“N-nooo! I mean, you're saying, Anaya, you and Dana would both... with me...”
“Guess I'll need bigger bedding when picking dowry? For three to lie.”
“Cough cough! Gack!”
Gulping tea to soothe his burning gut, he spat it out. Realizing at last, his face burned redder; Rakshasha found him adorably biteable.
‘Dana. Dana... Pretty name. Maybe not that precious? Curses hang on known names, yet she revealed her lover's so easily.’
Blushing fluster, yet hopeful—unavoidable.
“No, kids...? We parted in Tobrun, not enough time since...”
“Oh? I don't know who, so I considered all cases? Among your shipmates, pretty elf and sturdy troll woman?”
No troll expert, but gestation's under half a human's half. Didn't expect his range so vast, but his warm open heart makes it plausible...
“N-no! Just comrades! Notum's old acquaintance, Idrasil... I'm, uh, mentoring her! That's it!”
“Oh my~ Mentoring? Could you mentor me too? I'd learn well. Just how you want: detailed, intimate parts. Perfect. Fit?”
“No, not that... Anaya, please!”
“Oh dear, too bad. Just a joke then?”
Hehe.
So cute.
Seeing his speech loosen, mood thaw, Rakshasha couldn't hide her smile. Heart on sleeve like this. That dumb face, more sorry than relieved at her understanding release.
‘Really, can't help teasing?’
In the melting vibe, she smiled playfully.
“Rakshasha. It grates like sand in my chest. But call me Rakshasha again for now.”
“...Sorry.”
“No more of that. I've sacrificed much; surely you can grant that... Professor?”
Puppyishly nodding, she beamed, rising.
“Truth, I admit my inexperience. First real emotion, not business—I demanded raw acceptance. Like tossing an unspun, pupal silkworm and begging pretty praises.”
Knows people-handling, men-handling cold. But blanks before him. Like info calling him sharp genius, yet he's dumbstruck.
“But I don't repeat mistakes? Moon Shadows lifetime uncovering, stealing, thieving hidden things—I'm their chief? Clumsy embracing you dropped in my lap, but snatching you from another's arms... I'm unmatched. So...”
Smack—
“Pray she who stole your heart grips it tiiight. Next you call not Rakshasha but my name... we'll embrace so close no boundaries, whispering names?”
Fuuu—
Leaping to the bed-sitter, leaving a deep kiss mark on his nape, she whispered declarative last, inhaled his scent deep in reluctant hug end.
For now, this much. No repeat mistakes; no burdening him.
Flutter—
“Mmm~ So hot. Sun's set? Outside cooler now—shall we walk? Things to tell, hear. Heard you're busy; hard to spare time? If not to see me... why come?”
Draping outer garb, she took his still-frozen hand, leading.
Oasis with sun half-sunk horizon, rising moon, star-packed sky reflected, glowed beautiful.
‘At least, wish to see this with him—granted?’
No night together, but daytime comrades—half success. So thinking, Rakshasha exited tent with Professor.
****
Crunch. Cruuunch—
“M-Master. Stress releases bu-bu-bu-bad hormones, harming mental, psychological health and phy-phy-physically various rrrrrrr—”
“Got it. I'm fine, Ginny. Not that shaken.”
“B-bio scanner shows intense mental fluc— like a 14-year-old girl seeing kitten hit by train, shattered—similar level—”
“No. Not that bad. Fine. Just... startled.”
Beep—beep—
Rattle rattle—
Admin wing, top-access research facility only.
Alias, Professor Ward.
Wheelchair Dana, soul-pledged sleeping Professor body leaned, watched all his and Rakshasha's affections.
To end. Bar distasteful hug, nothing; they exited, she rewound recorded vid convo.
[Pray she who stole your heart grips it tiiight. Next you call not Rakshasha but my name... we'll embrace so close no boundaries, whispering names?]
[She grips it tiiight.]
[Grips it tiiight—]
[It tiiight—]
[Your heart—]
[Heart—]
.
.
.
.
Drip—
“Steal you, huh... Unintended, but message received loud. Rakshasha.”
Vitality, confidence no frail like her; alluring beauty even women fall for.
Proud he withstood her temptation, yet irked he didn't crush harshly—knowing his nature, something boiled inside.
To calm, Dana pressed forehead to bedside thing.
Thump—thump—
Unbelievable coma pulse strength. He's here. Not desert, Sector 47 admin. Alive, by me.
“I'm not without possessiveness.”
Knows greedy, selfish.
But for now, Human Professor Park's lover spot hers.
Hates anyone snatching before eyes, even dead.
Priority his safe return absolute; if truly truly truly unavoidable... she'd hole up, block senses, curl.
Still, hate's hate.
“So, do... well. Figure it.”
...Smack.
Fist of helpless feelings on his monster arm, that's it.
“Ow...”
“Keeek! Master! Mastermastermaster Dana Elisha Hyacinth injury! Bruiseeeeeee—critical contusion, nurse call! Nurse call!”
“N-no. Not that—”
“To ward! Patient needs rest—”
Obvious: hitting unscratcheable-by-chainsaw arm hurts hitter more.
Swallowing dizzy tears, Dana soothed rushing nurse, wheeled to her room.
Huddled researchers in Professor wing corner finally sighed relief.
****