Chapter 106
Chapter 106
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 105
Chapter Title: The Comforting Pianist
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Owen's grandfather.
Oster Baltani.
Too tired, perhaps, Owen had fallen asleep in Iluania's arms, leaving us to visit his gravesite late at night.
The Claren cemetery held fewer spirits than one might expect. Most were lost in repose, and the yokai wandering the city streets had driven off the evil spirits.
Before the grave where he slumbered.
A faint light emanated from the black gem in my grasp, granting a brief morning to the artist who had lived his entire life alongside the piano.
The form of a man with striking white chin beard and disheveled hair slowly materialized, then opened his eyes.
[Where is this?]
"A cemetery, Oster Baltani. I am the necromancer who awakened you, Deus Verdi."
He likely wouldn't know the title of Necromancer, so I kept the introduction simple. Oster scanned himself.
[Did I fail to reach the bountiful lands prepared by Goddess Demeter?]
A follower of Goddess Demeter, then.
They believed that after death, they could feast to their heart's content in the lands she had set aside.
I had no intention of revealing the truth about the afterlife to him.
I didn't want to disturb the dead man's rest or shove harsh reality in his face, so I cut straight to it.
"Owen Baltani. I have questions about the boy's abilities."
[Owen...]
Oster's face filled with pity as he thought of his poor grandson.
[A truly tragic child. He lost his parents young, and all I could teach him was the piano, since that was the only thing I knew how to play.]
"He's still following in your footsteps."
[Poor boy.]
His wrinkled expression carried a heavy sorrow.
"I heard you consoled Claren's yokai and saw them off."
[A black mage like you knows even that?]
Oster had no intention of hiding it. He clearly didn't welcome a black mage like me, but he continued speaking for now.
"Owen wants to follow what you did. The boy pities this city's yokai and feels bound by duty to see them off."
[...]
"It's necessary, too. With yokai overflowing in Claren, the spirits are terrified, turning into evil spirits that harm the city's humans."
From this angle, it seemed the old city of Claren owed a great debt to the man before me.
But the old man thought differently.
He saw it as a burden.
[What does that have to do with Owen?]
"..."
[I consoled this city's yokai because they were pitiful, and simply because I could.]
Oster gazed at his palms. Rough and coarse, they hardly seemed the hands of a pianist.
[But I don't want Owen bearing that burden too. The yokai are pitiful, but I don't want my grandson chained to it.]
"..."
[Do you know why yokai gather here more than anywhere else?]
Oster poured it out like a confession.
[It's because of the artists flocking to the city. They're a kind of excrement born from the imaginations and desires those artists create.]
Just as I mentioned when crafting a vein to devour Princess Elenoa's dreams.
Yokai and thoughtforms arise from accumulated wishes and desires.
The desires and wishes of Claren's countless artists had mingled, spawning an excess of bizarrely shaped yokai.
[As long as the city endures and the artists don't leave, they'll keep multiplying.]
"That makes sense."
I agreed easily, and Oster ground his teeth, clenching his fists as he replied.
[I want Owen free of this yoke. I don't want him wasting his life buried in other artists' refuse.]
A truly guardian-like choice.
There was no need for a single boy to pour his entire life into the city.
I understood that, but he still hadn't answered my question.
"What exactly is Owen's ability?"
[...]
"Every time he plays, yokai come to him. Until we know precisely what that power is, yokai will haunt him his whole life."
Oster let out a heavy sigh. He seemed to suspect I had ulterior motives.
[It's not the kind of talent a black mage like you might covet. It's simply the gift of a pianist, passed down from me.]
"..."
[That child is a genius. A piano genius. If there's an god of art, you could say it truly dwells in him.]
Oster's voice rang with sincerity. He was genuinely extolling the boy's talent.
[A talent that surpassed even a wretch like me in an instant! That's Owen! I say flat-out it's a waste for him to handle other artists' scraps here!]
"Answer properly. What is the ability you and Owen are hiding?"
The only flaw might be that it only manifested when playing the piano.
But seeing yokai and ghosts was no ordinary gift. Even necromancers couldn't perceive them without powerful evil spirits present.
It matched the eyes I possessed, no different from beholding a new world.
But Oster gave an unexpected answer to my question.
[Damn it! I don't know either!]
Spilling the secret, Oster balled his fists and swung them through the air.
[One day, suddenly! They appeared! Suddenly, they found solace in my playing and vanished! I just did it because I could!]
"..."
[I want to ask them myself! Why did they show themselves to me, forcing this duty on me! And now chaining my grandson's ankle!]
"I see. Understood."
No falsehood tainted his outburst. Oster was genuinely frustrated, clueless about why he possessed such a power.
"Sorry for disturbing your rest."
As I prepared to lay him back to sleep, Oster urgently reached out.
His hand passed through me, but it was enough to halt my actions.
[W-Wait! If you're truly sorry for disturbing me, grant one request!]
"..."
[I-It's a plea from the dead! Please! It's not something strange!]
"I won't indulge unreasonable demands."
I had disturbed his rest, so I'd at least hear him out. If it wasn't too much trouble, I might even comply.
[It won't be hard at all! It won't take long either!]
Oster voiced his desperate plea, and after hearing it all, I nodded, deeming it no great burden.
* * *
Claren's city hall was in chaos every single day.
Broke artists had no one to blame but their own talent and the environment they'd created.
But Claren's artists, unable to admit their lack of talent even on their deathbeds, always stormed the city hall, harassing the staff.
"No, why not me?!"
"You're handling things like this?!"
"Most of the city is artists! In a tourism city like this, is this all the respect we get?!"
They endlessly inflated their own value, called the mayor a fool, and shouted that the city would collapse without them.
Especially with Artists' Day approaching, they screamed for better welfare, acting like martyrs.
"Hah."
The receptionist felt a throbbing headache coming on. She considered quitting, but every Artists' Day, they appeared like they'd hit some berserk button.
Claren had become a tourist city thanks to artists' efforts, but now there were too many.
Truth be told, the city hall and mayor wished some would leave.
Of course, voicing that would spark cries of artistic oppression.
Not all artists were like this, of course. Those making scenes were less than 10% of the total.
They were just the loudest.
"Look at this! This! My painting's spot is a landmark—why don't I get anything?!"
"That was already popular. You should be fined for graffiti on a landmark."
"Hmph! Nonsense! More people go because of me!"
Dealing with such nonsense had become routine, so she handled it bureaucratically.
Clunk.
The city hall's main gate opened, and a man stepped inside.
His mere presence crushed the complainers' momentum.
His suit was impeccably luxurious, and the beauty of the maid beside him was stunning.
Her outfit was a bit revealing, but still.
Claren's artists, dressed in scavenged rags and starving, gaped enviously and whispered behind his back.
"Noble? Gotta be a noble."
"Definitely a tourist noble."
"Look at that woman's outfit. Bet he has fun every night."
The woman's sharp gaze swept over the whispering artists, silencing them in terror at her killing intent.
The man, exuding nobility from every pore, approached the receptionist.
"Where's the mayor?"
"Huh? P-Pardon? The m-mayor?"
His direct demand for the mayor confirmed he was no ordinary man.
"He's in his office now. C-Could you give me your name? I'll inform him."
She naturally probed his identity, and he answered without hesitation.
"Deus Verdi."
"Ah, De-Deus Ve... rdi?"
The receptionist's head slowly lifted as she wrote the name. Locking eyes with Deus, she sprang from her chair in a fluster.
"N-N-Necromancer!"
Many still refused to acknowledge necromancers.
But this was a city hall in Griffin Kingdom territory.
King Orpheus had elevated necromancers to the saintess's level, and the saintess had affirmed it.
One of the kingdom's top five dignitaries had arrived.
The receptionist imagined light bursting from behind Deus.
Her lips trembled, her hands shook.
Normally, she'd be too flustered to speak, but Deus's piercing gaze forced her to pull herself together.
"I'll fetch the mayor right away!"