In a Way, It's a Journey
The carriage wheels rolled with careful deliberation. Rood found himself reflecting on how often he had been watching the scenery from inside a carriage lately. That was never the case before.
Rood had always been more inclined to ride a horse than to sit in a carriage, and even then, he preferred galloping alone at full speed. He had been elite personnel who infiltrated enemy territory and sowed chaos in every conceivable way, yet as a common soldier, he had never received the special privilege of riding in a carriage. Though he had glimpsed the outside world from within one a few times recently, Rood still gazed out with genuine fascination. It felt as though the world were flowing backward.
The wheels turned relentlessly beneath their heavy burden, like fate itself, while the coachman occasionally flicked the horses' rumps to guide them onto narrower paths. Riding in the carriage brought thoughts that had never occurred to him during those breakneck rides on horseback.
"Rood, is there something amusing to see out there?"
Rood turned his head. On the long seat opposite him, a girl lay on her side, watching him. Or rather, she was a woman in the form of a girl. Even now, Rood struggled to fully accept the reality; to him, they still seemed like two different people.
"It's part of my duty. If any problems or anomalies arise, I must notice them first."
"Oh dear, are you still upset that I wouldn't let you guard me from outside the carriage?"
Rood offered no reply to Isabelle's question. Truth be told, he was a little angry.
From the moment they set out, he had believed it would be best to guard her from outside the carriage and had intended to do exactly that. Yet before departure, on Isabelle's orders, he had been made to ride inside with her.
"Come now, let it go~ Having you beside me is far more reassuring, isn't it?"
"Your Lordship seems to treat even matters of life and death as nothing more than a lighthearted jest."
Isabelle let out a small laugh. "My life is already wagered. What difference does it make if it ends a little sooner?"
"Must you always speak like that? If that's truly how you feel, then there's no reason for me to serve as your knight guard, is there?"
Rood was indeed furious that he could not fulfill his protective duties properly, but he convinced himself the true source of his anger lay elsewhere. It was Isabelle's attitude—her refusal to value her own life and her casual dismissal of any threats to it. Perhaps the real problem, he thought, was that he felt no revulsion at the sight of a girl who seemed to hold life in such contempt, or who found existence itself so hollow.
"If that's how I made you feel, then I'm sorry. But... but listen."
Isabelle swallowed once, then smiled. "Tell me, Rood. What do you believe is the true purpose of a carriage?"
"Why are you suddenly asking something like that?"
"Just humor me for now."
Rood considered it briefly before answering. "It exists to carry you from the estate to your destination."
"That may be true. But if so, wouldn't the horse you ride be faster?"
Rood shook his head firmly. "There's the risk of a fall. The carriage's true purpose isn't speed. It's to deliver you safely."
"Perhaps. But in my view, a carriage is..."
Isabelle stared directly into his face. Rood frowned, unable to grasp her meaning, but she simply smiled at his confusion.
"I believe it exists so that one may enjoy the scenery one loves."
When Isabelle dropped her formal tone, Rood's shoulders twitched. He had been caught off guard. Her original way of speaking was more ordinary. He suddenly wondered why she chose to speak in such an archaic manner.
Pushing the question aside, he replied first. "A carriage is meant to take you somewhere. Saying it exists to view pleasant scenery sounds rather strange, doesn't it?"
Rood had dropped his own formal speech as well. He had not forgotten the promise she once made to explain the nature of aura to him. Though opportunities for the two of them to be alone had arisen occasionally since then, one of them—almost always Isabelle—had always been too busy for a proper conversation. Still, a promise was a promise. In this moment, he spoke comfortably, and he did not overlook the fact that she would likely prefer it this way.
"Among the words of an ancient sage, there is this one."
Isabelle continued, "The purpose of travel is not to arrive. The purpose lies in the journey itself."
"And why are you bringing that up now?"
"Because I want to say that I am riding this carriage simply to savor this very moment."
Hearing her words, Rood recalled how he had been leisurely gazing at the scenery outside the window just moments ago, lost in a dozen different thoughts.
"I understand the meaning, but what I was trying to say is that I don't like how you're treating your own safety."
"Isn't life itself a kind of journey?"
Rood was momentarily speechless.
"People often confuse the two. They draw some distant realm or boundary and exhaust themselves trying to reach it. But, Rood." Isabelle's eyes shone in a way they never had before. It was neither cosmic nor jewel-like. They simply gleamed like the clear eyes of a single human being. "In the end, the final destination of life is always death. Are we truly living just to die? Or are we living to achieve the goals we set for ourselves along the way?"
"I don't know. I've never died, so I can't answer the first question. As for the second, isn't achieving something better than achieving nothing at all?"
"That may be. But if the goal is 'progress,' why does no one ever ask what exactly we are progressing from, or in what direction we should advance?"
Rood spoke with conviction. "Geniuses like you—forgive me for saying so—especially nobles, probably wouldn't understand. For most people, even that kind of progress is a heavy burden. Without it, survival itself becomes difficult."
Born an orphan, Rood knew the cruelty of reality all too well. The law of the jungle was fundamental. Life was an unbroken chain of suffering. In a world where failing to advance meant you could not survive, what meaning could direction possibly hold? Even if it held any, nothing mattered more than staying alive. That was what Rood believed.
Yet Isabelle placed a single finger against his lips.
"The genius you yourself acknowledged says you are wrong."
She withdrew her finger. Turning her gaze away, she looked out the window, listening to the sound of the rolling wheels.
"To someone like me, whose life has little time remaining... someone who, as both a genius and a noble, lacked for nothing and advanced with unstoppable momentum... I am dying. In every sense of the word."
Rood had no response.
"Progress only concerns itself with climbing higher. It says nothing about the direction of one's life. It is like the saddle of a horse sprinting at full gallop."
"What of it?"
"Most riders on such a horse meet their end when the beast collapses and breaks their necks. I am merely fortunate enough to be the rider who survived with nothing but bruises covering my body."
Rood finally understood the metaphor. Isabelle was faster than anyone. Like a peerless steed racing across the vast plains without restraint, her end was drawing near. The Isabelle he had observed until now should have had no regrets, yet he now realized she harbored deep doubts about her own existence.
"What do you regret so deeply?"
"Regret... is not quite the word. Rather, I have begun to think that I wish to live like this from now on." Isabelle smiled. "Let us live as we are today. Let us enjoy the leisurely pace of the carriage. Let us cherish this time we can spend together."
"I still find it difficult to understand."
"It's all right if you don't. But if one cannot enjoy life, then what is the point of living at all?"
Rood looked at the carriage with new eyes. He reflected on his past, on how he had always considered reaching greater heights the most important thing and had run toward that goal without pause. It is still an important value to me. He felt a certain pride in the fact that his convictions had not been shaken by Isabelle's words. Yet he also began to understand why one might choose to ride in a carriage rather than race forward on a swift, powerful horse.
The carriage wheels continued to roll without rest.
"We'll be arriving shortly!"
At the coachman's call, Isabelle opened her eyes. Rood, who had removed his coat, leaned out the window to look ahead. Isabelle glanced down at the slight weight resting on both her shoulders—warm, comforting, and familiar.
"A coat...?"
She examined it with open curiosity, turning it this way and that, before hugging it tightly to herself.
Knock, knock.
Isabelle flinched, quickly pretending to smooth out the wrinkles in the coat as she spoke. "W-what is it?"
"We have already reached the Helpm Territory and are entering the city now."
"That was rather fast."
"Yes. However, the surroundings seem quite strange."
When Rood pointed to a particular spot, Isabelle's expression stiffened. The tips of the crops there were beginning to turn black.
"The fairies have departed."
"Fairies?"
When Rood asked, Isabelle answered concisely. "Fairies choose a part of nature they wish to resemble—plants, inanimate objects, that sort of thing—and then live with the joy of tending to it."
She added, "I was taught that one can discern a fairy's mood from the color of the leaves left behind where they have departed."
Isabelle shook her head as she gazed at the blackened foliage. "Black signifies anger. This territory has been cursed."
At her words, Rood's half-lidded eyes flew wide open. Cursed?