The Capital of Gallia (3)
People are born deficient, and they grow only more deficient as they live. At least, that was what Jina believed. Her entire life had been nothing but a string of losses.
The world was like that. Tragedy always lurked close by. The person you spoke with yesterday, the person who seemed like they would never die—everyone dropped dead without warning. It was a cold, heartless world where everything you grew attached to eventually crumbled away.
In that kind of world, I met you.
‘Won’t you become mine?’ you had said. If I became yours, you would make me happy. You would teach me joy. What a ridiculous con artist you were.
Even now, I belong to you from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. Yet I feel neither joy nor happiness.
“Haa.”
Jina let out a sigh and quietly sipped her tea in the reception room. Even with two burly men standing guard at the entrance, she showed no sign of intimidation. If anything, the men looked more nervous than she did.
They didn’t know exactly who this petite nun was, but their superior had given strict orders to treat her with the utmost respect. It was obvious that if she found even the slightest fault with them, their heads would not remain attached to their shoulders.
An awkward standoff continued.
The purple-haired nun scanned the interior of the reception room with an appraising gaze. Many of the items were made from the pelts of northern beasts. A large frame hung on the wall, displaying a painting whose meaning she couldn’t decipher. When she first saw it, Jina had assumed it was some kind of magical formula. According to the burly men, it was a work that captured the anguish of a renowned artist. From her aesthetic perspective, she couldn’t understand what was so anguished about a canvas slathered with paint at random. Even if there was anguish, wasn’t it the anguish of the well-fed? How much value could something like this possibly have? At best, it would be superficial.
It was a terribly rude thought, but someone who had lived as long as she had was unlikely to change her stubborn, narrow-minded way of thinking.
…Setting aside her pointless critique of the painting, the reception room itself was rather nice. After all, this was the space where the leader of the underworld received guests. It couldn’t be filled with cheap junk. Even during her active years, she had always decorated her own reception rooms with expensive items.
Click.
The door opened, and a man entered wearing a neat black suit with his hair slicked back. Blood-red hair, sunken eyes, and a face far from handsome—rough and intimidating. Features perfectly suited to someone who operated in the shadows of the underworld.
As he stepped into the room, the two burly men offered crisp, disciplined bows. Though they were by no means short, they looked almost small next to him. He was a man of imposing build. The word “giant” suited him well.
The man raised a hand to acknowledge their greeting and looked at Jina.
“Leave us. I wish to speak with her alone.”
At his command, the men exited the room. Only the massive man and the tiny girl remained.
Clink.
Jina set down her teacup.
“The tea has a fine aroma, Daipol.”
The man—Daipol—lowered his heavy frame onto the plush sofa.
“It’s one of your favorite indulgences, isn’t it?”
“For someone who looks like you, your memory is surprisingly good.”
“……Didn’t the person who told me not to judge by appearances just say that?”
“Hmm. It reminds me of that snot-nosed brat who used to say he’d live up to his looks.”
It was a verbal battle Daipol could not win. Their accumulated years were simply too different.
“Damn old hag.”
Of course, in any era, there was no more fatal blow than commenting on a woman’s age. A red flush crept across Jina’s pale face.
“……Do you want to die?”
“Seeing that healthy color in your cheeks, I suppose you’re not wearing a human skin suit after all.”
Jina’s expression soured. She had no disgusting hobby of wearing other people’s skin. Naturally, her reply came out sharp.
“Are you doubting me?”
Daipol waved his hand.
“The situation has taken a strange turn. I thought those bastards had hired skilled skin-changers to cause trouble.”
“The kingdom? What would they gain by impersonating me?”
“Not the kingdom.”
“Then who?”
“It’s an internal matter, so it’s difficult to say. More importantly……”
Daipol trailed off and glared at Jina. His eyes held both reproach and accusation.
“It would have been nice if you had contacted me in advance. Why is it that you never consider our schedule?”
Jina lowered her head. Even if she had ten faces, she would still be too ashamed to show any of them.
“………I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. It’s not as if you acting however you please is new. So, has your little game ended?”
A game. That was indeed what she had called it when she spoke to Daipol back then. But could the feelings she harbored now really be dismissed as nothing more than a game? No. This heart could not be reduced to something so trivial.
Daipol pressed on.
“Or is this visit also part of that game?”
Jina let out a sigh.
“There’s something I need to correct. It wasn’t a game. I was sincere.”
“That’s embarrassingly saccharine talk—something only girls who’ve soaked their brains in sugar water would say.”
“Is it strange?”
“If it weren’t for the wavering shadows, I would have thought you were an impostor.”
Sharp shadows like an animal’s fangs had sprouted around Daipol. To threaten her so openly—Jina, as always, was confident in her own strength. The man frowned and asked,
“So what is your point?”
“I want to take back the items I gave you.”
“In short, you intend to break the taboo again?”
Jina nodded with a gloomy expression.
“………Yes.”
“I’m worried that you’ve grown foolish.”
“Your tongue is sharp. I’m not asking for them for free, so state your own purpose. I’ll throw in a reasonable discount.”
“Is there anyone worse than someone who gives something only to snatch it back?”
“That’s why I’m offering proper compensation, isn’t it? Stop sneering and let’s make a deal.”
“Please come back to us.”
“……”
“The situation is not good.”
“……I already have someone I follow. I must obtain that person’s permission.”
Daipol’s eyes widened. It was the first time he had shown genuine shock since entering the room.
“Someone you follow? You? Is this being a dragon or something?”
“A human.”
“An ordinary human?”
“Not ordinary. To me, he is special.”
Daipol groaned and pressed his forehead.
“This isn’t like you.”
“Perhaps it’s time for me to die.”
“You, an immortal?”
“There is no such thing as eternal immortality.”
He stared at Jina. Without saying a word, he simply gazed at her. Even in the face of that silent protest, Jina remained unshaken. Deciding there was nothing to gain from their tiresome staring contest, Daipol changed his request.
“Then, could you eliminate one person for me?”
“Who?”
“The Second Prince.”
“Aria.”
“Yes?”
“Your hair has gotten a bit longer.”
At Ashtain’s words, Aria tugged on her own hair with her fingers to check. Just as he said, it had grown. What had once barely reached her shoulders now brushed against her collarbone.
“Should I cut it?”
“Do whatever is comfortable for you.”
“What does Ain prefer?”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
Ashtain pressed his lips to the back of his hand and fell into thought. It seemed he hadn’t expected the question. He thought of his deceased sister, Amelia, and answered.
“I like it moderately long.”
“Then I’ll leave it.”
At Aria’s reply, Ashtain recalled what Azazel had said earlier. Long hair made one’s head feel heavy and was inconvenient, and maintaining it was a hassle. So he asked,
“Isn’t your hair heavy?”
Azazel, who had been listening, narrowed her eyes and interjected.
“Of course it’s heavy, you idiot. Can’t you tell just by looking? Sis just wants to look pretty for you.”
He rested his chin on his hand with a serious expression.
“………Hmm. Have I not shown enough that I like you, Aria?”
“N-no, that’s not it! Y-you cherish me plenty! I-I just… wanted to match your preferences……”
Ashtain pulled the Saintess into his arms and gently bit her earlobe.
“You already are my preference.”
“……Hauuu.”
Azazel closed her eyes. Her tolerance was far too low to endure the cheap melodrama unfolding right in front of her. By the way, when the hell is this damn carriage going to arrive? I want to get there quickly so I don’t have to watch this anymore.
Perhaps her wish had reached the heavens. The carriage came to a stop. The driver opened the rectangular window and announced their arrival. In other words, their long, long carriage journey had finally ended.
“I’m getting off first!”
Azazel shot up from her seat. When she opened the carriage door, a magnificent medieval cityscape unfolded before them. A bright sky and densely packed buildings created a breathtaking view.
Aria stepped onto the ground of the royal capital, Gallia, with a gasp of admiration. She staggered slightly, but it wasn’t as bad as before. It was proof that she had grown somewhat accustomed to riding in the carriage. Still, she wasn’t completely fine, and Azazel expressed concern.
“Sister Aria. You look pale.”
“……Uuuu. Are you okay, Azazel?”
“I can fly, you know. Motion sickness is nothing to me.”
“I need to get used to it soon too…… ugh.”
A small hand gently stroked Aria’s back. Azazel grinned like a mischievous child.
“You’ll get used to it eventually.”
As always, Ashtain spoke with an unchanging expression.
“I’ll pay the driver and have a quick word. Wait here.”
Aria and Azazel answered at the same time.
“Yes.”
“Go ahead.”
While Ashtain paid the driver and exchanged a few words, Azazel gave Aria a brief explanation about Gallia. She spoke of the mages’ tower, the mercenaries’ guild, the nobles’ residential district, and more. Thanks to Azazel’s excellent storytelling, it didn’t feel boring at all.
A short while later, when Ashtain returned, Azazel stopped talking and grumbled.
“What were you talking about for so long with that guy?”
“There was something suspicious.”
“Oh my, is that so?”
Azazel shook her head, then noticed a strange gaze fixed on her. The source was Aria.
“……Azazel, what about the rest of the story?”
“Uh, Ashtain’s back now. Shouldn’t we get moving……”
Aria’s obsidian eyes sparkled brightly.
“No, I want to hear it all the way through.”
Azazel looked at Ashtain. Her eyes said, Do something about this sister of yours, but he simply shook his head. He was more interested in seeing Aria later become embarrassed about her stubborn behavior than in seeing her disappointed.
Azazel offered a compromise.
“……Then let’s hear Ashtain’s plans for what we do next first, and I’ll continue the story after. Okay?”
Aria accepted immediately.
“Yes, that sounds good!”
Azazel turned her gaze to Ashtain. He cleared his throat and spoke to both Aria and Azazel.
“First, it would be best to look around and find an inn.”
At Ashtain’s plan, Azazel asked again in surprise.
“Really? With your personality, I thought you’d head straight to the Gallia Royal Palace.”
Aria nodded in considerable agreement. Ashtain’s thinking was extremely efficiency-oriented, which often led to somewhat eccentric plans.
“If I were alone, it wouldn’t matter. But since you two are with me, I’ll follow the standard procedure.”
Aria tilted her head.
“Standard procedure?”
“To meet the king directly, you usually have to wait a few weeks.”
The king? Suddenly? Aria’s mind went completely blank. She couldn’t even remember the interesting story Azazel had been telling her moments ago.
Azazel glanced at Ashtain as if she had expected this.
“Y-you’re going to meet His Majesty the King?”
At Aria’s question, Ashtain nodded.
“You have to get the owner’s permission before you can tour the house, right?”
That was right. The Hero never avoided anything. He always charged straight ahead. Even if the method wasn’t exactly polite.