Chapter 172: [Side Story] Black Butterfly
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 172: [Side Story] Black Butterfly
I look back on the time that has passed.
My memories are warm, joyful, happy.
And they are faint, melancholic, sad.
And behind them… there is still pain.
* * *
I opened my eyes to the sound of the wind.
It was raining, and my mood soured instantly.
Why on earth did I have to wake up on a day like this?
That alone was enough to displease me. Without even bothering to gauge how long I had slept, I stepped outside.
—I called you.
A voice echoed, as if answering my unspoken question. It was the voice of the one I had met after living through a vast, unremembered stretch of time.
It was the voice of the one who was both a single entity and the whole of existence—appearing sometimes as a young child, sometimes as a mature woman, and on more whimsical days, as a red bird.
"Why on a day like this? You know I hate it."
I hate rainy days.
She had to have known. As the one who knew everything in this world, she must have known how much I hated such days.
—Something has appeared. Something unknown. Something strange. That is why I called you.
Even then, I didn't think much of it. My only thought was a mild curiosity that there was something even Serenti, the god who created me, did not know.
I did not know that this was the beginning.
If the one who was supposed to know everything in this world did not know, then how could I? Of course, the matter was far too grave to find any comfort in that fact, but at the time, I simply did not know.
And so, the event that would later be given the grandiose name of the War of the Two Gods began with Serenti's quiet call, waking me from my slumber on a rainy day.
—Sispanian. Help me.
It was all backward.
Serenti, who was always the one begged for help, was now begging me. Though spoken in the irresistible language of a god, it was undoubtedly a plea. Her voice was more desperate than I had ever heard it.
"Speak."
The reality that awaited me was no laughing matter.
The Evil God, whose very name was a trial to speak, had awakened. An entity never before seen had blinded Serenti's eyes and begun to claim lives.
My kin who rashly intervened died in vain, forcing me to hide our young. The continent split and drifted apart, and the half that remained lost its beauty, turning into a desolate wasteland. I watched with my own eyes as countless races vanished, becoming mere legends.
The Evil God's final prey was the weakest of all: humans. To stop it, a few of the strongest humans gathered. Yet, they were still so fragile.
—I know they are our chance.
Serenti called the humans our last chance. She bestowed her power upon them.
Thus, seven humans gathered. Together with them, I helped to shackle the Evil God. A humble yet grand final battle began.
Serenti, who fought alongside us, made her will known. She said it was better for her to disappear than for everyone to die. We could not object, and so Serenti fell into a deep slumber alongside the Evil God.
Four survived.
No, four died.
And with that, the final battle ended.
Everyone knew that Serenti had fallen asleep.
The chaos among the living who had lost their god was far too great. And so, I could not bring myself to sleep again.
* * *
Some time passed.
We were called heroes.
Humans draped the word ‘sacrifice’ over the names of the fallen. They had simply died and vanished, but their deaths were beautifully packaged.
And then, they were forgotten. Humans praised the surviving heroes instead. They had learned that doing so was the only way they could survive. There was too much loss to spend all their time mourning the dead. To grieve for everything would drive them mad.
"Sispanian."
He was no different.
Once the war ended, the surviving heroes should have been forgotten like the dead, but he refused to let that happen. He stepped forward and gathered the survivors. He buried the memories of the fallen and rallied the living.
"So you hate the rain and like the snow?"
And he followed me, shadowing my every step.
A human who was undoubtedly called a hero by others. A human who possessed a sword sharper than any other. A human who could command others with a single word. The strongest human.
Such a man followed me around.
In the end, a mere human relentlessly pursued me, who was not.
"What else do you hate?"
I couldn't understand why he asked such things.
When he had looked at the world he protected and called it beautiful, I had merely remarked that the falling snow was more beautiful. I had never explicitly said I hated rain or liked snow.
Yet, he knew. And he always asked me things like that. What else do you hate?
"You."
I hated him.
* * *
Did Serenti know?
How the world would change because of him? How I would change? How my world would change?
That he would become both the prologue and the epilogue of my life.
Did she know?
Or did she not?
If she knew, I would resent her for the rest of my days.
Did she know?
Or did she not?
If she did not know, I would resent her for the rest of my days.
* * *
"I like butterflies."
I didn't care.
He didn't care that I didn't care. He came as he pleased, babbled as he pleased, and left as he pleased.
"They're nice, aren't they? They make you feel as if flowers are blooming, as if spring is always just around the corner. That's why I like them."
Neriad, the hero who died in the final battle.
The day news arrived that the woman who had left upon realizing she carried Neriad's child was still alive, he came to find me again. Out of the blue, he started speaking of spring-like things. Of things that felt like flowers blooming.
"Secritia. They say she named it that."
Harboring a secret.
A new country with such a meaning, Secritia.
He was delighted as he shared the news that she had founded a country with that name. He rejoiced that she had built what was surely a beautiful nation by the sea—the same sea Neriad, who died protecting her, had longed to see one last time.
"To me, that news was like a butterfly. Like a flower in bloom. Thank goodness."
He was glad she hadn't died, glad she was alive. Glad she had gathered people, built a nation, and risen again. That, he said, was a flower.
So he said.
"Sispanian. What do you like?"
"You leaving."
"Tell me something I don't already know."
"You not coming back."
And he remained as bothersome as ever.
Unlike Quetros Siegfried, who was steadfast in his loyalty, he was steadfast in his defiance.
"Anyway, maybe I should take Quetros and build a country of my own."
And just like that, he declared his intention to found a nation.
* * *
He kept his word.
He said he would step forward, and he gathered the people.
He said he would save the world, and he saved everyone.
He said he would found a nation, and he built one.
Kairis.
The place where spring comes.
He established a nation with a name that suited him perfectly, a name only he could have chosen. Upon the ruins of a fallen kingdom and its devastated lands, he built a new nation ruled by a new hero.
"I like you, Sispanian. I think I have for a very long time."
And just like that, he refused to let me go.
I was not some Ancient Dragon playing at being human on a whim. I was not mimicking human life to pass a mere fragment of my agonizingly long existence.
I simply existed as myself. He knew this. Yet, knowing this, he still acted as he pleased.
"I do not."
I had never once called him by his name, nor had I ever spoken a single kind word to him. I was merely a pillar, supporting humanity in Serenti's place.
I was not human.
I was busy enough searching for a way to bring back the sleeping Serenti, protecting my young kin from death, and simply trying to comprehend this world.
"The places humans live are too cramped and suffocating."
Cramped and suffocating. Moreover, they are noisy, annoying, and it always seems to be raining. Humans live in such places.
And they live such short lives in those places.
"So, I will absolutely never marry you."
I hated it.
I hated the thought enough to want to return to my nest and sleep for a hundred years, just so he could never find me again.
"Hmm. I see."
For once, the man who never listened simply answered like that.
And then, he began to build a royal palace the size of a town.
The day I found out, I came very close to killing the hero who saved the world.
* * *
Most humans were narrow-minded, arrogant, and weak.
He was not narrow-minded or arrogant; he was strong. He was kind, thoughtful, smiled often, and spoke beautifully.
And he was selfish.
Terribly, dreadfully selfish.
"In the end, you will leave, and I will be the one left behind."
Knowing full well that it would end that way, I asked him why he held on to me so tightly.
"Because you are my entire life. I wanted to become even a small part of yours. It's selfish, I know, but it's what I wanted."
Knowing I would never be able to forget my memories of him, he still called to me. He asked me not just to remember him, but to cherish him as a memory.
"You might not understand right now. But someday, when it snows, I want you to frown as you think of me, the one who used to annoy you. When you look at the sea, I want you to feel irritated as you remember me following you around. And when you see a butterfly, I want you to smile, remembering how I said I liked them because they made me feel like flowers were blooming. Not just to remember, but to feel something when you do."
That, he said, was what it meant to cherish a memory.
"I know it's selfish, but I still wanted that. I couldn't help myself."
He held on to me as I tried to leave, overwhelmed by his relentless persistence.
"Just how much more do you want from me—"
"I love you."
He really was…
…so terribly, dreadfully selfish. He remained selfish to the very end.
I could not shake off his hand.
Because at some point, probably a very long time ago, I had already come to feel the same.
* * *
"Sis."
"No."
"Phani."
"Stop it."
I became the queen to the king of this new nation. The humans rejoiced, and he was happy.
And I conceived a child.
He was truly, utterly terrible at naming things. He acted as if he had done his part just by naming the country and the capital.
"Bern."
"No."
To be unforgettable is a sad thing. That was why I disliked it.
A human's life is so very short, and I knew he would eventually leave me. In the end, heroes are forgotten, and I knew I would be the only one left to remember after everyone else was gone. I did not want to give my child such a name.
"Camillon."
Butterfly.
The name he said he liked slipped from his lips.
"I like it."
"Ah, we've finally decided."
He smiled.
Even though he must have known that I had still never called him by his name, and even though he knew I had never once told him I loved him, he smiled, happy that we had chosen our child's name.
And so, time passed.
The child was born. Finding it wondrous how he inherited my black hair and his green eyes, I bestowed a small blessing upon him.
The child began to speak, grew taller, and matured. Time flowed on. It slipped away.
And he slowly sank into the depths of those passing years.
I, who could not bind time, was weak.
Time, the years…
The days Serenti granted to humans were so short.
To me, who had lived through countless ages, that day…
…came far too quickly.
* * *
"Hatsuara. Don't go."
"I love you."
He smiled.
I wept.
* * *
The palace he built for me was so grand.
Yet, the tomb built for him was so small.
I visited that place every single day.
I went there knowing I could never meet him again. I went because the days would not pass otherwise.
Would he come?
Would I see him?
I went to him as a butterfly.
Even as our child departed, and that child's child departed, I…
…became a black butterfly and visited his side.
A black butterfly hovering near the tomb of the deceased king.
Unaware that those who had forgotten it was me were spinning new legends, I went…
…with a heart praying for spring to come.
* * *
And so, I still look back on the time that has passed.
My memories are still warm, still joyful, still happy.
And they are still faint, still melancholic, still sad.
And behind them, it still hurts.
Because of memories that refuse to be forgotten, and because I now know what it means to cherish them.
Because I have been left behind, all alone, in this longing.