Gloomy and Damp, Yet Pure and Innocent (1)
The expressions spat out by gray are undoubtedly sinister. The atmosphere they exude is dark and chilling, sending shivers down people's spines.
The emotions harbored by gray are surely damp and humid ones—sticky, cloying, viscous enough to make people recoil in horror and flee.
No matter how you look at it, they're utterly unlike the ordinary. They drag out all those cautious inner feelings people keep hidden away.
Of course, even among those who aren't gray, some harbor similar emotions. But theirs lack the intense power of gray.
There are no ash particles dancing along the ripples of emotion, snuffing out life.
Thus, gray has always been sinister and damp.
However.
The emotions cradled by gray are purer than anything else. That straight, devoted heart is something even untainted children can't possess—it's that precious.
The words offered by gray are surely innocent. They hold a purity unmingled with anything else, neither petty nor contrived.
No matter how you look at it, it's distinctly unlike the ordinary. Cherishing and treasuring just one person, drawn and drawn again until it becomes longing and adoration.
Yearning wistfully, painfully retracing and savoring memories until one's gaze fixes solely on them—a supreme, unwavering devotion that lasts a lifetime, sticky and tenacious.
A monstrous, desperate tangle of emotions that nothing but death can sever.
Thus, gray has always been pure and innocent.
In other words, the love that gray harbors for one person is like that. Ordinary folk could never bear it; they'd have to run far away just to survive. It's a massive wave.
It is surely an innocent, pure, pristine, and heartrendingly beautiful emotion.
It is a damp, sinister madness—squirming, grotesque, spine-chilling.
No matter how you try to hide it, it inevitably drags itself out and spills forth.
So.
If you approached the abandoned, rejected, reviled gray first and made them love you.
If you extended your hand, clasped theirs, scooped them up, embraced them in return.
If you spoke to them, stroked their hair, smiled at them.
If you told the gray stifling their urges and worries that it was okay to do as they wished.
That is undoubtedly your fault.
Your fault for kicking away the chances handed to you time and again out of sheer luck.
The carriage had pulled over to the roadside. With fat snowflakes beginning to fall and the sun setting as night approached, I stopped the carriage and prepared to camp.
I shook the snow from the wood with mana, dried it, then kindled a fire with mana again to build a roaring bonfire.
Eileen was grunting as she hauled out a pot from the carriage, so with a sigh of ahh, I floated the pot up with mana and set it over the flames.
Even after seeing this every time, Eileen let out a gasp of admiration.
"Whoa, magic really is amazing.... I wanna be a mage too."
She gazed at me and the rippling mana with eyes full of longing, murmuring dreamily like that.
But no way in hell.
"Impossible."
"Hey, don't be so blunt.... Hmm, so there's really no way to become a mage without innate talent, huh?"
"As far as I know."
Mana is an intangible power you can only gain through innate talent; those without it from the start have no way to acquire it.
"What a shame.... Well, if I just stick by Asha all the time, won't I be half a mage? When I beg you to save me, magic flies in, and when I ask for a scolding, it comes too!"
"…."
"Hehe, I'm basically a mage now! Ahh, so warm~"
As I stared at her in disbelief at her optimistic nonsense, she giggled and kept peeking around beside me.
It was a bit annoying.
"Don't slack off. Go grab the tracking device from the carriage. I'll stew this up."
"Oh, right! I'll get it!"
She'd grunted hauling the pot, so I helped, and now she was trying to lounge around—it was kinda infuriating.
So while camping, I told her to fetch the item we'd gotten from Tebris, and she dashed to the back of the carriage, returning with the box containing the device.
As the bonfire crackled and I dumped ingredients into the pot,
Eileen sat by the fire, opened the box, and pulled out the device and manual.
Gazing at the bubbling stew, her voice drifted over slyly.
"Hmm, user manual.... 'If tracking a person, insert hair or fur, nails or flesh, or failing that, bodily fluids or blood.'"
"…."
Person's hair or fur, nails or flesh, or bodily fluids or blood.
"'If tracking an object instead of a person, insert a piece of that object...?' That's what it says."
"Seems ancient artifacts need some primitive materials."
Tech that pinpoints a person's location was impressive, but the required materials were bizarre and primitive.
Eileen seemed to think the same, tilting her head and glancing at me.
"Guess so. Uh..., and after putting it in, infuse mana for about five minutes and the location info appears. But what if you don't have hair, nails, or flesh to begin with?"
"…."
I hadn't seen him in over three years; no way I'd have bits of his body.
Ordinary people wouldn't collect someone else's body parts regardless of time passed.
"Argh, what a letdown! Feels like we brought this for nothing, Asha."
"…."
Eileen was that sort of sensible person.
She tossed the now-useless manual down with a thud and flopped beside the bonfire.
But.
"..., I have them."
"Huh? What do you have?"
"Hair, nails..., flesh and such. I have them."
Truth be told, there was a pouch in the carriage with Ain's hair and nails.
I wasn't exactly ordinary, so I'd kept those precious mementos.
"…."
"No..., I mean. Just in case something like this came up."
"Lies have to be believable, Asha. That's straight-up creepy pervert stuff."
"…."
Well... yeah.
Even those shed bits felt like parts of Ain, endearing and ticklish in a weird way, so I'd treasured them.
I vaguely knew it wasn't normal or sensible, so I'd hidden them from Rendo and Rain, sneaking them along when I left on this trip.
As I flapped my mouth uselessly, unable to defend myself to the grossed-out Eileen, she asked cautiously.
"You didn't, like, pull them out and grin at them when I wasn't around, right?"
"No, well. Not every time...."
"..., Eugh."
"…."
Really, fewer than four times.
Maybe three or four at most.
Even that was far from normal by standard eyes, so Eileen—uncharacteristically—put two steps' distance between us and said,
"Every time like this, a bit more of my respect and admiration for you crumbles, Asha...."
"Hm. Yeah, whatever. What would a flat-chested girl like you know."
"Hey! This has nothing to do with my chest!"
Three years had passed; when longing for my beloved grew too aching, it was bound to happen.
Grinning creepily alone while gazing at and stroking them didn't hurt anyone.
"Eileen. You can't understand 'cause your tiny chest means you've never known real love."
"Gaaah..., resorting to ad hominem 'cause you can't win logically— that's just vicious...!"
I thought that as I verbally shredded Eileen's invisible chest, then fetched the hidden pouch from the carriage and added bits of Ain's hair and nails to the device.
No reaction yet, so I kept infusing mana.
About five minutes later.
Tick—
"Ah, Asha! Asha!! Letters are appearing...!"
Tick—
"..., Ah."
Tick—
"Nooo...."
"…."
Letters engraved themselves on the blank device.
Ancient script, of course.
"Umm..., the manual came with an ancient dictionary too...."
"..., Then we'll translate it overnight."
"Ahaha..., yeah.... Wow, I'm so excited...."
And so, in the snowy forest, we sat by the bonfire listening to the bubbles, unexpectedly studying.
"Asha, this seems like a region name..., but it's an ancient place name, so I dunno...."
"..., Next word then."
"Yeees...."
We ladled stew into bowls, slipping spoonfuls between flipping through the thick dictionary.
"Eileen, what's this word mean?"
"W-Wait. Lemme have a spoonful of stew first. Nom. Hmm, time...? Space...? Something like that...? No? Uh, no clue!"
"...Eileen, we'll never finish translating."
It's fine. We have plenty of time.