The Scent of Oblivion
Listening to the method, it was memory erasure through the Oblivion Flower.
The way to regain those memories was different from Cryan’s case. Simply catching the flower’s scent would suffice, making it remarkably simple.
Yet if the lady truly believed I had died…
As someone who could only watch from afar, witnessing that sight might shatter my heart.
“It is a sound idea. With this, we could place Banquite perfectly upon the stage.”
So, stay calm. Just say what needs to be said.
“The problem is whether the lady can endure that weight.”
“…Yohan?”
I gripped the lady’s hand tighter.
“You said we are not merely similar, but the same.”
Please look this way.
Then the lady turned toward me, looking somewhat embarrassed.
Yet in contrast, she adjusted our loosely clasped hands, interlocking our fingers more firmly. My heart was too heavy with worry to feel surprised by the gesture. In truth, I barely even noticed it.
She answered.
“Yes. We are the same… I did say that.”
“I agree with those words, which is why I must say this.”
“What do you mean…?”
“If, instead, I were the one who believed you had died…”
A vision of the future unfolded. My breath caught even as I tried to sigh. Words formed on my tongue only to lodge in my throat. My voice barely squeezed past my Adam’s apple.
“I might go mad.”
“You… wouldn’t do that.”
“No. If you disappeared, this world would hold no meaning for me. I would become an entirely different person.”
At those words, the lady’s cheeks flushed faintly. Did she understand why I was saying this?
She seemed to realize her own embarrassment only now. Her fingers loosened slightly as if to pull away… yet she hooked her little finger around my ring finger instead. The cool touch of her skin was vivid.
I had taken her hand without discomfort, but perhaps she was simply being considerate. Still, the conversation could not end there.
“…However, my words always seem to be contradicted by what I said in the past.”
“N-no, Yohan. You are right.”
“This must be exactly how you felt when I first suggested faking my death…”
The lady spoke with a startled expression.
“…Yet I still gave permission. Do you think this is a good plan after all?”
“Regrettably, yes.”
I nodded.
“This was my plan to begin with, and you accepted it with great generosity.”
“Th-that’s true…”
“What you proposed is an excellent reinforcement of the plan. It would be strange to criticize it.”
Yet even as my mind accepted it, my heart could not. I understood that truth with painful clarity.
It was not a bad idea, so I had to praise her. But why did my chest still ache?
Why must the lady endure such things? Why must we always face these trials?
Is salvation truly this difficult?
The lady seemed to have nothing more to say. She merely fidgeted her little finger, still gently entwined with mine.
‘…This won’t do.’
My deliberation did not last long.
“I am sorry for being such an inadequate servant, my lady. I am sorry I cannot do better for you.”
“N-no… As I always say, you are the servant I cherish most—”
Tug—
Without another word, I pulled her hand and drew the lady before me into a gentle embrace.
“I am sorry for making you do this.”
I had hesitated until the very end, and now I wanted to die even more.
‘I’ve done it…’
But this was not… This was not born of any romantic intent!
I had only wanted to offer a sliver of comfort with my inadequate heart to a pitiful soul in need of healing and warmth. It was simply an act committed because no other thought came to mind.
Had the lady not stroked my head when she spoke of rewarding me?
Though I had long outgrown the age for such childish indulgence, she had still granted it. Therefore, feeling the same sentiment, I had done something similar in return.
Of course, I knew that being held by someone like me—a bear of a man—would not feel particularly pleasant, yet I had done it anyway. Whether she would accept it, I could not say. My mind had surely been broken for quite some time.
“——!”
With her strength, Karalin could have pushed me away if she truly disliked it. Instead, she only trembled briefly in my arms, offering no resistance at all. I could not understand why.
‘M-my heart…’
It was pounding so violently that I could not think straight.
Was this all right? Could I truly do this?
I hoped she would not misunderstand, yet guilt flooded in the moment the act was done.
Lady Karalin was tall among women, but I was exceptionally large even among men. When I embraced her, her head reached only to my chest.
From her hair came the faint scent of cedar leaves brushed by wind. It was not merely the nostalgic fragrance of the North. It was the scent of the lady I cherished most in this world, and it had never felt stronger than in this moment.
My lady. My beloved lady…
Yet she remained silent for so long. How was I supposed to resolve this…?
“P-please do not be alarmed, my lady…”
Instead, she only buried her face deeper into my chest, hiding her expression.
‘…Wait a moment.’
Her hands had started to wrap around my waist, only to stop midway. What did that mean? Did it mean I could hold her longer?
But that would be far too embarrassing, so I spoke while trapped between hesitation and action. If I had committed to this, I needed to explain…
“This is, well, my lady…”
“…Y-yes.”
“I wished to imprint my warmth upon you.”
She remained motionless.
“…Even if you come to believe I have truly died, this memory will not vanish, will it?”
“Th-that’s right…”
“Therefore, if you truly intend to carry out this plan…”
I spoke with resolve.
“I wanted you to remember clearly, through this brief moment, that I—who cherish you above all else—am still alive.”
“Yohan—”
“It is warm. I am alive.”
Yet as I spoke, my heart gradually calmed. I raised a hand and gently stroked her soft, blue hair.
“That is why I apologized. You deserve far greater respect, yet I feel so small for being able to offer you nothing more than this.”
Then I noticed something. The spot on my chest where the lady had buried her face felt slightly damp!
…Oh no. Had she cried?
Rustle, rustle—
At that moment, footsteps approached from beyond the walking path near the dormitory—a place I had thought deserted.
“…Shall we stop here?”
“Y-yes…”
Shuffle, shuffle—
We quickly separated. Though the lady had claimed she paid no mind to the petty rumors of common folk, this… this was different. It was simply too strange.
Afterward, neither of us could meet the other’s eyes. I did not know. I no longer understood anything… This had been an act driven by emotion and impulse, something that had never happened between us in all our time together.
Thus, in the moment when I could not even decide what to say next—
“…Yohan. Take me back to the dormitory.”
“O-of course.”
“Shall we go…?”
Since the lady had taken hold of my sleeve and asked to be escorted, I did so.
This was simply how our relationship was.
***
With field training imminent, the professors were each busy preparing evaluations and practical exercises for their students.
Yet Professor Casacos remained devoted to her true work—experiments and research—even today.
This was no dereliction of duty. She had completed everything required of her. This was merely her struggle to achieve her dream, even at the cost of sleep.
Ever since meeting Yohan and recalling that day in the year 678, Casacos had been possessed by something she could not name. The moment her lectures ended, she would shut herself in the laboratory, wholly absorbed in cultivating a new homunculus.
Preparing lecture content? She simply used whatever was already in her head. She was a genius who could afford to do so.
But even for such a genius, there were things that could not be done no matter how many attempts she made.
She could not create another child like her first and most ambitious creation—the homunculus ‘001’.
No matter how she altered the material ratios or adjusted time and temperature, the result remained the same.
Thud—
Once again, Casacos kicked a metal can and slammed her head against the desk, sobbing.
“It seems all my talent was spent in my youth. You pathetic old maid…”
Why could she never reach 001, no matter how many times she tried to recreate it?
Why could she not even produce something in human form?
She drew a cancellation line through the number ‘451’ written on the chart before her.
After creating 001, she had attempted to make 450 more. Even after changing every variable, these countless trials had all failed because… it seemed the only remaining explanation was that her own biological data was incorrect.
She could change everything else, but not that one thing. Did even a homunculus refuse to be born from an old maid’s genetic information?
Damn it all.
“Aaaagh—!”
Crash—!
With that thought, Casacos violently swept everything off her desk with her hands. Curse this entire world.
Roll, roll—
Yet the recoil caused an ice crystal resting atop the freezer on her desk to tumble over. It was a remnant from when student Yohan had frozen and then healed his own hand—a fragment he had discarded into the laboratory trash bin, which she had unconsciously picked up and kept.
Yes. This was the act of a pervert. But the reason she had done something so perverse was simple: even after reading his personal records, her curiosity about him remained unsatisfied.
At least in her mind, there was no such thing as coincidence when it came to déjà vu. Though his records had not answered her questions, perhaps investigating him one detail at a time would yield a clue?
Thus, the very first goal she had set upon returning from the administration office that day was to uncover his inexplicable abilities. If the ice was created by his power, perhaps it would be different—
Driven by that vague curiosity, she had kept it.
And now that ice had rolled across the floor and landed, with perfect timing, inside the homunculus cultivation chamber on the adjacent table.
Plop—
Right on top of 451, whose experiment had just failed!
“Kyaa, kyaaah—!”
The precious specimen was about to be ruined!
What a homunculus in cultivation required was a “mana-infused artificial womb organ.” Its interior had to remain in a vacuum mana state, with only her own mana ever introduced.
This was no trivial matter—it concerned the mana organ itself. Mana organs were unique to each individual, much like fingerprints. If they became mixed, an irreversible event would occur.
A healthy adult’s immune system could block such intrusion, but a fetus was different. The same applied to a homunculus.
If even the slightest amount of mana from someone whose genetic information differed from the homunculus’s creator entered the chamber… the homunculus would necrotize without ever opening its eyes and wither away.
And if ice awakened by Yohan’s spirit magic entered, the outcome was obvious. The mana organ was an even more critical factor than cultivation temperature.
‘Well, it was a homunculus that would never have been born anyway, so it probably does not matter much…’
She had wanted to test a few more conditions while she was at it, yet things had come to this… As expected, one should never vent anger outwardly.
With a resigned sigh, Casacos reached into the chamber to retrieve the ice that had fallen inside.
……
……
…Yet.
“…Huh, huhh?”
Why was this homunculus still maintaining its form?
Wait. It should have necrotized by now. Did that mean Yohan’s mana organ was identical to hers?
‘That makes no sense. There has never been a recorded case of someone—mana-incapable or otherwise—possessing an identical mana organ…’
But in that instant, her neurons connected.
‘—No. There is one possibility.’
What if it was someone with the same genetic information? Someone with genetic information so similar it was virtually identical.
Since humans required both a father and a mother to be born, such a person could not exist in this world…
…Unless that person was a human created solely from one individual’s genetic information. A “homunculus.”
In that case, it would make sense that it did not die.
At that moment, she recalled Yohan’s year of birth.
‘678.’
Because a soul entering a homunculus was an absolute impossibility, she had dismissed the possibility even when suspicion arose. Yet now that possibility had become reality.
Without even thinking to tidy her tangled hair or pallid complexion, Casacos dashed out of the laboratory.
She had to meet Yohan right now.